The Highwayman. H. C. Bailey
Mr. Hadley. Sure, my father (in the general resurrection) will have your blood. I leave you to your conscience, sir," which she did, making for Harry.
Mr. Hadley, remaining by the harpsichord, contemplated them, and with his one hand caressed his chin. "It's a fascinating family, the family of Boyce," said he to himself.
Miss Lambourne sat herself down beside Harry before he chose to be aware of her coming. He started up and obsequiously drew away.
"You are very coy, Mr. Boyce," said the lady.
Harry replied, with the servile laughter of a dependent, "Oh, ma'am, you are mocking me."
"Tit for tat"—Alison's eyes had some fire in them.
"Tat, ma'am?"
"Lud, now, don't be tedious. Sir, the house of Waverton is entranced by your splendid father: and Charles Hadley (as usual) is entranced by himself. You have no audience Mr. Boyce. Stop acting, and tell me—what is wrong with me?"
Harry considered her with calm criticism. "It's not for me to tell Miss
Lambourne that she is too beautiful."
"Indeed, I thought you had more sense."
"Too beautiful," Harry persisted deliberately; "too beautiful to be good company."
"That will not serve, sir. You are not so inflammable. Being more in the nature of a tortoise."
"If you had a flaw or so: if your nose had a twist; if your cheeks had felt the weather; if—I fear, ma'am, I grow intimate. In fine, if you were less fine, you would be a comfort to a man. But as it is—permit the tortoise to keep in his shell."
"I advise you, Mr. Boyce—I resent this."
Harry bowed. "I dare to remind you, ma'am—I did not demand the conversation."
"The conversation!" Her eyes flashed. "What do I care if a lad's impudent? Perhaps I like it well enough, Mr. Boyce. There is more than that between you and me. You have done me something of a service, and you'll not let me avow it nor pay you. Well?"
"Well, ma'am, you're telling the truth," said Harry placidly.
The lady made an exclamation. "I shall bear you a grudge for this, sir."
"I am vastly obliged, ma'am."
The lady drew back a little and looked at him full, which he bore calmly. "I suppose I am beneath Mr. Boyce's concernment."
"Not beneath, ma'am. Above. Above. Do you admire the Italian medals? They are of a delicate restraint," He turned to the cabinet and began to lecture.
Miss Lambourne was not repulsed. He maintained a steady flow of instruction. She waited, watching him.
By this time Colonel Boyce was growing tired of his Duke of Marlborough and his State secrets, and seeking diversion. "Odds fish, it's a hard road that leads to fortune. You are happy, Mr. Waverton. You were born with yours."
"I conceive, sir, that every man of high spirit must needs take the road to fame."
"A dream of a shadow, Mr. Waverton," said the Colonel, with melancholy grandeur. "'Take the goods the gods provide you,'" he waved his hand at the crowded opulence of the room and then, smiling paternally, at Miss Lambourne.
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