“No!” answered Gadsby. “Say what you please for me to Miss Laurence; if she chooses to take offense, it matters but little to me. The frowns of one whose smiles are so general, are easily borne. I hope you will have a pleasant ride.”
“But what new freak is this? Last night you were in fine spirits for the excursion, and I am sure you received the invitation of Miss Laurence with undisguised pleasure.”
“Think so? Well, I have altered my mind—that’s all,” said Gadsby, carelessly.
“Ah-ha! Are your wings scorched, that you thus shun the presence of the irresistible Lucia?”
“Cannot a man of business absent himself from the society of a flirt, without giving a reason, Walton?” said Gadsby, tartly.
“A man of business! Good—excellent! I will report that weighty concerns of the law interfere with your engagements. You wont go, then?”
“No!” and saying this, Gadsby took up a book and sat down, with a dogged, resolute air.
“Well, I must be off. Au revoir.”
No sooner did the door close after his friend, than, throwing away the book, Gadsby started up, exclaiming:
“No! this syren—this coquette—this all fascinating woman, as she is called, shall find I am not so easily made her dupe! She is a perfect mistress of art, that is certain; for who that did not know her would think the light of her beautiful eyes shone only to deceive—they are heavenly! Who would think that sweet, gentle smile which she sometimes wears, and the soft, witching tones of her voice were but superficial. In outward appearance she is a type of all that is most perfect in woman; and if this beauty of mind and person but extended to the heart—ah, I dare not think of it! I am told she considers me a vain, conceited fellow—ha! ha! she shall find yet that I am not what I have appeared, and that this vain, conceited fellow, has at least wit enough to see through and despise her arts. What a beautiful morning for the ride. I was foolish not to go; besides, she may think—no matter what she thinks. But then I would not be uncivil; as I accepted the invitation, I should have gone. I wish I had. Let me see, it is now ten o’clock; perhaps I may yet be in time. Yes, I will show her that I can meet her fascinations unmoved, and leave her without one sigh of regret—heigh, ho!” And Mr. Gadsby ended his soliloquy by catching up the broom-brush and rapidly applying it to his shoulders and arms, and then with a glance at the small looking-glass, he seized his hat, and rushing down stairs, swiftly thridded his way through the crowd until he reached the residence of Miss Laurence, whence the party were to set forth. Running up the steps, he rang the bell.