Baptisto quickly shook his head, with the least suspicion of a smile upon his swarthy face.
“I am not impressionable, senor, and I do not admire your English women; but I wish to remain all the same.”
“Nonsense!”
“Nonsense! In serious lament, senor, I beseech you to allow me to remain.”
But Haldane was not to be persuaded at what he conceived to be a mere whim of his servant. He still believed that Baptisto had fallen a captive to the charms of Mrs. Feme, a little plump, dark-eyed woman, with a large family. He had frequently of late seen the Spaniard hanging about the lodge—on one occasion nursing and dandling the youngest child—and he had smiled to himself, thinking that the poor fellow’s misanthropy, or rather his misogynism, was in a fair way of coming to an end.
Finding his master indisposed to take his request seriously, Baptisto retired; and presently Haldane strolled into the drawing-room, where he found his wife.
“Have you heard of the last freak of Baptisto? He actually wants to remain at ease, instead of accompanying me in my journey.”
Ellen looked up from some embroidery, in which she was busily engaged.
“On no account!” she exclaimed. “If you don’t take him with you, I. shall not stay in the place.”
“Dear me! said the philosopher. Surely you are not afraid of poor Baptisto!”