The Quiet Gentleman

“I am sure she had never the least intention of causing unhappiness.”

“No, the mischief lay in his being too young to rate her pretty smiles at their true worth, and in her being too young to recognize that Martin was no man for her playful arts. What a stupid business it is! Are you expecting me to settle it?”

“Certainly I am. If you do not, I shall be obliged to lay an information. Should it be to a magistrate?”

He laughed. “I hope we may not have to go to quite such a length as that! Will you leave it in my hands, and trust me to do what I can?”

“Yes, willingly,” she replied, rising, and picking up the train of her dress. “Theo said that he should speak to Martin, but I should not be surprised if you were found to have more influence than he has ever had. At all events, your word must carry weight with Lord Ulverston.”

She then left him, and he returned to his task of filling his snuff-box. It was very soon accomplished, and he had just restored the jar to a cupboard when Ulverston strolled in.

The Viscount instantly picked up the gold snuff-box from the table, and inspected it. “That’s pretty!” he remarked. “Where did you find it, Ger?”

“Rue St. Honoré — Louis XV. Not really suitable for day-wear, of course.”

“Oh, at old Ducroix’s? I bought one from him — genuine Barrière, with lapis panels.”

“I know you did. He showed it to me, but I thought the marble-enamel displeasing. How did you find them all at Whissenhurst?”

“Oh, in high gig! Lady Bolderwood is full of schemes for their party next week. The devil of it is that I find I can’t stay to attend it.”

“No, so I apprehend,” replied the Earl. “You have received a letter which summons you to town, haven’t you?”

Ulverston laid the snuff-box down, and raised a rueful pair of eyes to the Earl’s face. “So you know all about it, do you? Has Martin been with you?”

“No, Miss Morville. I should warn you that she is ready to inform against you to the nearest magistrate, Lucy.”

“Meddlesome female!”

“Not at all. She is a woman of remarkable good-sense. What nonsense is this, Lucy?”

“No nonsense of my seeking.”

“But you cannot mean to meet Martin, surely!”

Ulverston shrugged. “I told him I could not, but when he chose to slap my face what would you have expected me to do?”

“I can think of several things you might do. They would all of them do Martin a world of good, but they don’t include calling him out.”

“Boot’s on the other leg: he called me out. Of course I told him not to be making such a cake of himself, but when it came to his suggesting I didn’t care to face his markmanship, it was the outside of enough!”

“Oh, here’s a high flight!” said Gervase, laughing. “My poor Lucy, you have a great need to prove your mettle! I beg your pardon! But you can’t prove it against my foolish young brother, you know.”

“Don’t be alarmed! You don’t suppose I mean to hit him, do you?”

“No, I fear he means to hit you.”

“I’ll take my chance of that.”

“Make no mistake about this, Lucy!” Gervase said quietly. “If Martin means to kill you, there will be no chance. He is a very fine shot.”

“Is he?” The Viscount looked a little startled. “As good as you?”

“Much better.”

“The devil he is! The more reason, then, for not drawing back!”

“Lucy, if you really wish to be reassured, let me tell you that you will earn nothing but praise for withdrawing a challenge to a boy with not one tenth your experience!”

“You’re quite out. Not my challenge at all: I had nothing to do but accept a quarrel he was determined to force on to me.”

The Earl, who had been twirling his quizzing-glass on the end of its ribbon, now raised it to one eye, and through it surveyed his friend. “You said Martin slapped your face!”

“He did. I gave him a leveller; he asked me for satisfaction, which I refused to give him; he then slapped my cheek, and asked if I would now meet him. I call that his challenge, not mine!”

“How very irregular!” remarked the Earl, slightly amused.

“Irregular! The whole affair is quite abominable! God knows I don’t want to quarrel with your brother — not but what it’s time someone taught him not to persecute defenceless girls with his damned attentions!”

“Forgive me, Lucy, but what is your interest in Miss Bolderwood? I have myself called Martin to book for — unmannerly conduct towards her, but it ought, I think, to be remembered that they are old playfellows, and have not been used to stand upon ceremony with each other.”

“Oh, yes! Boy and girl stuff! I know that!” Ulverston said impatiently. He took a turn about the room. “Well! I imagine you have guessed! Nothing is to be announced until after her presentation, but you may wish me happy, Ger!”

“With all my heart! She will make you a delightful wife, and you will have the felicity of knowing yourself to be the object of a general envy!”

The Viscount grinned, as he grasped his hand. “Is she not beautiful, Ger? Those speaking eyes! So much countenance!”

“Indeed she is!” Gervase responded warmly.