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"Loneliness, sir!"
"D'ye think so, Tom?"
"Aye, you've always been a lonely man, I mind."
"Perhaps I have--except for the Sergeant."
"You are still, sir."
"Belike I am--though I have Sergeant Zeb."
"But we'll change all that in a month---aye, less! You shall grow two or three hundred years younger and enjoy at last the youth you've never known."
"Faith, you'd give me much, Tom!"
The Viscount took out his snuff-box, tapped it, opened it, and forgot his affectations.
"Sir," said he, "there was, on a time, a little, wretched boy, who, hating and fearing his father, grieving in his sweet mother's griefs until she died, found thereafter a friend, very tender and strong, in a big, red-coated uncle----"
"By adoption, nephew."
"Aye sir, but I found him more truly satisfying to my youthful needs than any uncle by blood, Lord love me! At whose all too infrequent visits my boyish griefs and fears fled away--O Gad, sir, in those days I made of you a something betwixt Ajax defying the lightning and a--wet-nurse, and plague take it, sir, d'ye wonder if I----" Here the Viscount took a pinch of snuff and sneezed violently. "Rat me!" he gasped, "'tis the hatefullest stuff!" Followed a volley of sneezing and thereafter a feeble voice--"The which reminds me sir we must drink tea----"
"But I abominate tea, Tom."
"So do I, sir, so do I--curst stuff! You know the song:
'Let Mahometan fools Live by heathenish rules And be d.a.m.ned over tea-cups and coffee--'
But the women dote on it, dear creatures! 'Tis to the s.e.x what water is to the pig (poor, fat, ignorant brute!) ale to the yeoman (l.u.s.ty fellow) Nantzy to your n.o.bby-nosed parson (roguish old boy) and wine to your man of true taste. So, let there be tea, sir."
"By all means, Tom!"
"And sir--if I may venture a suggestion--?"
"Take courage, nephew, and try!"
"Why then, wear your blue and silver, nunky, 'tis the least obnaxious and by the way, have you such a thing as a lackey or so about the place to get in one's way and to be tumbled over as is the polite custom, sir?"
"Hum!" said the Major thoughtfully, "I fancy the Sergeant has drafted 'em all into his gardening squad--ask Mrs. Agatha, she'll know."
CHAPTER X
INTRODUCING DIVERS FINE GENTLEMEN
"Gentlemen!" said the Viscount, "you have, I believe, had the honour to meet my uncle, Major d'Arcy, for a moment, 'tis now my privilege to make you better acquainted, for to know him is to honour him. Uncle, I present our Ben, our blooming Benjamin--Sir Benjamin Tripp."
"Ods body, sir!" cried Sir Benjamin, plump, rubicund and jovial. "'Tis a joy--a joy, I vow! Od, sir,'tis I protest an infinite joy to----"
"Ha' done with your joys, Ben," said the Viscount, "here's Tony all set for his bow! Nunky--Mr. Anthony Marchdale!" Mr. Marchdale, a man of the world of some nineteen summers bent languidly and lisped:
"Kiss your hands, sir!"
"I present Lord Alvaston!" His lordship, making the utmost of his slender legs aided by a pair of clocked silk stockings bowed exuberantly.
"Very devoted humble, sir! As regards your poacher, sir, ma humble 'pinion's precisely your 'pinion sir--poacher's a dam rogue but rogue's a man 'n' rabbit's only rabbit--if 'sequently if dam rogue kills rabbit an' rabbit's your rabbit----"
"Stint your plaguy rabbits a while, Bob. Nunky, Captain West."
"Yours to command, sir!" said the Captain, a trifle mature, a trifle grim, but shooting his ruffles with a youthful ease.
"The Marquis of Alton!"
"I agree with Ben, sir, 'tis a real joy, strike me dumb if 'tisn't!"
"Sir Jasper Denholm!"
Sir Jasper, chiefly remarkable for an interesting pallor, and handsome eyes which had earned for themselves the epithet of "soulful," bowed in turn:
"Sir," he sighed, "your dutiful humble! If you be one of this sighful, amorous fellowship that worships peerless Betty from afar, 'tis an added bond, sir, a----" Speech was extinguished by a gusty sigh.
"Od so!" exclaimed Sir Benjamin, hilariously, "do we then greet another rival for the smiles of our Admirable Lady Betty--begad!"
The Major started slightly then smiled and shook his head in denial.
"Nay sir, such presumption is not in me----"
"But, indeed, sir," sighed Sir Jasper, "you must have marked how Cupid lieth basking in the dimple of her able chin, lieth ambushed in her night-soft hair, playeth (naughty young wanton) in her snowy bosom, lurketh (rosy elf) 'neath----"
"Sir!" said the Major, rather hastily, "I have eyes!"
"Enough, sir--whoso hath eyes must worship! So do we salute you as a fellow-sufferer deep-smit of Eros his blissful, barbed dart."
"Od rabbit me, 'tis so!" cried Sir Benjamin. "Here's wine, come, a toast, let us fill to Love's latest bleeding victim--let us solemnly----"
The door opened, a rehabilitated footman announced: 'Lady Belinda Damain, Lady Elizabeth Carlyon,' and in the ladies swept, whereupon the Major instinctively felt to see if his peruke were straight.
"O dear heart!" exclaimed the Lady Belinda, halting with slim foot daintily poised. "So many gentlemen--I vow 'tis pure! And discussing a toast, too! O Gemini! Dear sirs, what is't--relate!"
"I' faith, madam," cried Sir Benjamin, "we greet and commiserate another victim to your glorious niece's glowing charms, we salute our fellow-sufferer Major d'Arcy!"
The Major laughed a little uncertainly as he hastened to welcome his guests.
"Indeed," said he, "what man having eyes can fail to admire though from afar, and in all humility!"
At this, Lady Betty laughed also and meeting her roguish look he flushed and bent very low above the Lady Belinda's hand but conscious only of her who stood so near and who in turn sank down before him in gracious curtsey, down and down, looking up at him the while with smile a little malicious and eyes of laughing mockery ere she rose, all supple, joyous ease despite her frills and furbelows.