“Goodness gracious, Mr M’Whirter!” said a voice which I instantly recognised to be that of Edith Bogle, “is it possible that can be you? Is it the custom, sir, of the Scottish yeomen to break in upon the privacy of two young defenceless females, and even to raise their weapons against the place which contains them? Fie, sir! is this your boasted chivalry?”
“O George—go away, do! I am really quite ashamed of you!” said the voice of my cousin, Mary Muggerland.
I thought I should have dropped from my saddle.
“Friends of yours, eh, M’Whirter?” said Randolph. “Rather an awkward fix, I confess. What’s to be done?”
“Would the regulars have behaved thus?” cried Edith, with increased animation. “Would they have insulted a woman? Never. Begone, sir—I am afraid I have been mistaken in you”——
“By my honour, Edith!—Miss Bogle, I mean—you do me gross injustice! I did not know—I could not conceive that you, or Mary, or any other lady, were in the machine, and then—consider my orders”——
“Orders, sir! There are some orders which never ought to be obeyed. But enough of this. If you have delicacy enough to feel for our situation, you will not protract this interview. Drive on, boy! and you, Mr M’Whirter, if you venture to interrupt us further, never expect my pardon.”
“Nor mine!” added Mary Muggerland.
“Who the mischief cares for yours, you monkey!” muttered I sotto voce. “But Edith—one other word”——
“Don’t call me Edith, sir! This continued importunity is insufferable! If you have any explanation to make, you must select a fitter time,” and the sliding-panel was instantly closed.