Then we went on a few steps without speaking.
“Simpson's a capital fellow,” I resumed, breaking the pause that was rather awkward. “I'm very fond of him, and shouldn't the least object to his coming down here at any other time; only just now it's a bore. We wanted to have my uncle and Sir Simon all to ourselves. However, I dare say you'll like Simpson too when you see him, though he is of the race of Philistines. If he's a shrewd lawyer, he's a trusty friend and as honest as the sun. No fear of my ‘doing’ my heiress wife in the settlements,” I continued laughingly, “or cheating her out of any of her lawful rights, while old Dominie Simpson has the whip-hand over me!”
“He's to be here to-day, you said?” she remarked interrogatively, as we entered the house.
“Yes. If he comes by the early train, he may be in time for dinner,” I replied.
Mr. Simpson did come by the early train, and he was in time for dinner. He was even an hour and a half beforehand with it, and spent most of the intervening time closeted with my step-mother in her private apartment.
My wife appeared in a second edition of sunset and rainbow, and flashed and sparkled with jewels as on the previous evening.
She received our old friend very graciously, drawing just the right line of demarcation between her friendly graciousness to him and the daughter-like familiarity of her manner towards Sir Simon and her uncle. Dinner passed off very merrily; but when we rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room, I was surprised to find Isabel fast asleep in the depths of a monumental arm-chair. She jumped up at the sound of my voice, and, rubbing her eyes, said she was ashamed to be caught napping, but she was so tired!
“Hollo, Simpson, this is a sorry lookout for you!” exclaimed the admiral. “We've been telling him to get ready his legal soul to be charmed and devoured by the siren.”
“Oh! I am so sorry,” said Isabel, looking at the old lawyer as if nothing in this world could give her half so much pleasure as to charm away his soul on the spot; “but these naughty gentlemen kept me up so late last night, and made me sing so much, that I have not a note in my voice to-night, and I'm just dead with sleep.”
Simpson looked wofully disappointed.