“Alas! coz, my heart already aches for those unhappy damsels who will be sueing for admittance at that impregnable castle of yours,” continued the young girl, with mock gravity.
“Have mercy, do—you have overheard my nonsense, now pray spare me; for, after all, Kate, if I should ever fall off from my allegiance, here is the face would tempt me,” pointing as he spoke to the easel.
“Indeed! what a vain fellow you are, Harry. I suppose you think I should make a humble courtesy for this concession in my favor. It is well you leave the city to-morrow, or I should be tempted to set my cap at you, and boldly revenge the sex. I don’t think,” she added, archly, “I should find the castle invincible.”
“You are a dear girl, Kate, I know that,” answered Auburn; “but come, take your seat at once—you have just the expression now I have so often tried to catch, to make your picture perfect. There—don’t move—no more raillery for at least five minutes—so shut your mouth.”
For five minutes, then, the work went rapidly on, when, springing triumphantly from his chair, Auburn exclaimed,
“There, coz, it is done! not a feature but is perfect. Come, judge for yourself, if it is not to the life.”
Kate admitted the correctness of her cousin’s pencil, and then added,
“You had best unsay that rash oath of yours, however; for I have come to summon you to tea this evening, where you will meet one whose slightest glance will subdue at once your boasted intrepidity.”
“I have no fears, Kate, yet must decline; as I have already several engagements on hand for the evening.”
“Better own that, coward-like, you shun the encounter—and well you may; for, ah, Harry, such a charming girl!”