“If you’re in the confidence of the person at whom you hint, sir, allow me to say that you’ll do him no service by these free remarks. Will you be so good as to hand me back to the ballroom?”
“Nay, then,” said this strange man, with great warmth, placing himself in my path as he spoke, “is the report true that has reached me, that this pretended Lovelace is but Solmes in disguise? Is it true that his suit, while favoured by her mamma, is distasteful to the amiable Clarissa herself? Speak, madam, and enrol Lewis as your defender until death.”
By this time I was heartily frightened, as you may suppose, and anxious only to rid myself of my new tormentor. “Sure you forget yourself, sir, in thus intruding into family matters. I thank Heaven that I have already friends sufficient to protect me, as well as a will that has served me tolerably hitherto.”
“Nay, madam,” he cried again, seizing my gown as I sought to slip past him, “you’re in a trap, believe me. Your mamma is leagued with this Solmes or Lovelace—whichever he be—and resolved on handing you over to him. You’ll perceive before long the truth of my words. If you should then be moved to accept of my assistance, a billet addressed to me in character, and sent to the house of a respectable female in the Great Buzar, whom all the Indian servants know by the name of the Mother of Cosmetiques, will find me without loss of time.”
I was incensed against the man for his bare-faced proposition, and tore my gown from his hold. “Sure, sir,” I said angrily, “you forget the character I have assumed in thus acting up to your own. Be assured there’s no help I would not accept sooner than that offered in such a fashion,” and I pushed past him, and ran along the varanda towards the door. Here I came upon two gentlemen, who had been watching the dancing, and had stepped out to breathe the air, and to my delight I recognised them as my papa and Captain Colquhoun. I seized Mr Freyne’s arm. “Oh, sir——!” I gasped, and burst into tears, and so clung to him, looking like a fool, I make no doubt.
“Can I be of any service to you, madam?” asked my papa.
“Is it possible, sir, that you don’t recognise Miss Freyne?” said Captain Colquhoun, with the stiffest air in the world.
“How could a man know any one in that masque?” cried Mr Freyne. “Take the absurd thing off, miss, and tell me what’s the matter.”
“The—the person with whom I was dancing, sir,” I sobbed.
“Well, and what of him, miss? Who is he?”