Newspaper Page Text
for the coming set. Now, sir, answer me honestly, was not this
vour trick, sir, on this occasion.”
u A practice deemed honourable in your day, cannot surely be
regarded as discreditable; and I have now only to plead your own
example, sir, if I desired to escape your anger. But, in truth, sir,
I did not, on any occasion, know that Miss Mazyck was engaged
to another partner when I asked.”
“ But you conjectured it, sir, —you kept off untill the last mo
ment, sir. You well know that Beatrice Mazyck is not likely to
bang as a wall-flower, and you gave everybody the desired oppor
tunity, sir. Edward Bulmer, it was a mere mockery of Miss Ma
zvck, to solicit her hand when you did.”
“ She, I fancy, was very well pleased with that sort of mockery.”
“ Sir, did you ever , on any one occasion , offer yourself to her
for the second or third dance, when she pleaded previous engage
ment. That, sir, is a common custom with young gentlemen—is
it not.”
“ Yes, sir, —and one more honoured in the breach than the ob
servance. I don’t approve of it myself, and don’t encourage it in
others.”
“You don’t, eh ! Well, sir, I made you a special request that
you would see Miss Mazyck to the supper-table. Why did you
not ?”
“ Dick Cooper was before me, sir.”
‘• Dick Cooper before you ! Yes, indeed, he will go before you
all your life; That man will be somebody yet. Not a mere Jehu
or Jockey, sir. lie will not waste his life among the pumpkins. I
would to God he could drive into your empty noddle some of that
good sense and proper veneration which distinguish himself.”
“ Well, sir, you will admit that if I’m unworthy of Miss Mazyck,
be is not.”
u Who says you are unworthy, sir f ’
“ My humility, sir.”
“I) n your humility. I wish you knew how to exercise it in
the right place. You are a puppy and a scrub, and fit only for
such a petty little French popinjay as that —”
“ Stop now, father, or I’ll be sure to upset you! If you speak
disrespectfully of Paula Bonneau, you will certainly so outrage my
nervous sensibility, that I shall turn the buggy over into the first
bramble bush that I see; and then, sir, you’ll be in the condition of
the man who lost both his eyes in a similar situation. You re
member the pathetic ditty —j
“ And when he saw his eyes were out,
With all his might and main,
He jump’d into another bush,
And scratch’d ’em in again.’’
But that feat’s not to be performed every day. Tou might try
b'om bush to bush between here and home, and fail to scratch back
your pupils.”
*’ Pshaw— you blockhead! But where the deuce are you driv
ing, sir ? You are out of the road.”
U No, sir, —I am in the road far enough. I confess Im on the
look-out for the briar patch; and should I see one, —’
Zounds, man, you are out of the road. I see the track to the
left.” J
K °sir, it runs to the right. I see it well enough. Don t
tom b the reins, sir, —you’ll do mischief.”
H Do mischief! You would teach your grandmother how to
THE GOLDEN CHRISTMAS.
eat her eggs, would you ? Teach me to drive ! You would pro
voke a saint, Ned Bulmer! Give me the reins, or you will have
us in the woods.”
“ Fear nothing, sir; I see exactly where lam going. I see the
road perfectly, every step of it!”
Tou see nothing, sir, I tell you, but your own perverse dispo
sition to foil me in every thing. If I did not know, sir, that you
are a temperate man, I should suspect you of taking quite too
much champagne to-night ”
Ned Bulmer could not resist the disposition to chuckle.
u Y hat do you mean by that laugh, sir ? There, again,—you
will have us in the woods. It is either your hands that are un
steady, or it is your horse that shies.”
“ Isn’t it barely possible, sir, that it is the stars that shv was
the response of Ned, conveying thus what was designed to be a
very sly insinuation. But the Major’s faculties had not been so
much bedevilled as his eye sight. He caught the equivocal im
port of the suggestion in a moment.
“ Really, sir, this is most insolent. You are drunk, sir, posi
tively drunk, and will break both our necks, in this atrocious
buggy. Give me the reins, I tell you.”
“ Hold off, father,” cried the son earnestly; “we are going right.
There is no danger, but the road here is narrow and the fence on
the left is pretty close.”
u Fence on the left ! Where the d—l do you see any fence on
the left ? Where do you think we are, sir ?”
This was the first time that Ned suspected that his father’s sight
was becoming bad. He knew not whether to ascribe it to his own
age, or that of the wine.
“ At Gervais’s corner.”
“ Pshaw! we have passed it long ago. You are in no condition
to drive. That’s plain enough.”
With the words he grasped one of the reins furiously, whirled
the tender-mouthed bay round before Ned could guard against the
proceeding, and in a moment, striking the corner of the rail fence,
the buggy was turned over, and the horse off with it. The Major
made a sudden evolution in the air and came down heavily against
the fence. Ned was pitched in among the pines, on the opposite
side of the road, and both lay for a time insensible.
CHAPTER XII.
A GROUP ON THE HIGHWAY. A NEW STUDY FOR THE PAINTER.
It is not yet known how long the father and son lay in this con
dition before they received assistance. They were first discovered
by the coachman of Madame Agnes-Therese Girardin, as he drove
that lady and her grand-daughter slowly home from the ball.
“ Wha’ dis yer ?” quoth Antony, the coachman. “ I see some
t’ing in de road.”
“ What do you see, Antony ?” demanded the lady.
X yer somebody da grunt,” quoth Tony. “ He’s a pusson —
(person) —he’s a man for certain.”
u a man in the road, groaning!” said the old lady. u Peter !
Peter!” —to the boy riding behind. Antony drew up his horses at
a full stop. Peter jumped down and came forward.
25