CHAPTER XV.
MR. DONNE'S EXODUS.
The next day Shirley expressed to Caroline how delighted she felt thatthe little party had gone off so well.
"I rather like to entertain a circle of gentlemen," said she. "It isamusing to observe how they enjoy a judiciously concocted repast. Forourselves, you see, these choice wines and these scientific dishes areof no importance to us; but gentlemen seem to retain something of the_naivete_ of children about food, and one likes to please them--that is,when they show the becoming, decent self-government of our admirablerectors. I watch Moore sometimes, to try and discover how he can bepleased; but he has not that child's simplicity about him. Did you everfind out his accessible point, Caroline? you have seen more of him thanI."
"It is not, at any rate, that of my uncle and Dr. Boultby," returnedCaroline, smiling. She always felt a sort of shy pleasure in followingMiss Keeldar's lead respecting the discussion of her cousin's character.Left to herself, she would never have touched on the subject; but wheninvited, the temptation of talking about him of whom she was everthinking was irresistible. "But," she added, "I really don't know whatit is, for I never watched Robert in my life but my scrutiny waspresently baffled by finding he was watching me."
"There it is!" exclaimed Shirley. "You can't fix your eyes on him buthis presently flash on you. He is never off his guard. He won't give youan advantage. Even when he does not look at you, his thoughts seem to bebusy amongst your own thoughts, tracing your words and actions to theirsource, contemplating your motives at his ease. Oh! I know that sort ofcharacter, or something in the same style. It is one that piques mesingularly. How does it affect you?"
This question was a specimen of one of Shirley's sharp, sudden turns.Caroline used to be fluttered by them at first, but she had now got intothe way of parrying these home-thrusts like a little Quakeress.
"Pique you? In what way does it pique you?" she said.
"Here he comes!" suddenly exclaimed Shirley, breaking off, starting upand running to the window. "Here comes a diversion. I never told you ofa superb conquest I have made lately--made at those parties to which Ican never persuade you to accompany me; and the thing has been donewithout effort or intention on my part--that I aver. There is thebell--and, by all that's delicious! there are two of them. Do they neverhunt, then, except in couples? You may have one, Lina, and you may takeyour choice. I hope I am generous enough. Listen to Tartar!"
The black-muzzled, tawny dog, a glimpse of which was seen in the chapterwhich first introduced its mistress to the reader, here gave tongue inthe hall, amidst whose hollow space the deep bark resounded formidably.A growl more terrible than the bark, menacing as muttered thunder,succeeded.
"Listen!" again cried Shirley, laughing. "You would think that theprelude to a bloody onslaught. They will be frightened. They don't knowold Tartar as I do. They are not aware his uproars are all sound andfury, signifying nothing!"
Some bustle was heard. "Down, sir, down!" exclaimed a high-toned,imperious voice, and then came a crack of a cane or whip. Immediatelythere was a yell--a scutter--a run--a positive tumult.
"O Malone, Malone!"
"Down! down! down!" cried the high voice.
"He really is worrying them!" exclaimed Shirley. "They have struck him.A blow is what he is not used to, and will not take."
Out she ran. A gentleman was fleeing up the oak staircase, making forrefuge in the gallery or chambers in hot haste; another was backing fastto the stairfoot, wildly flourishing a knotty stick, at the same timereiterating, "Down! down! down!" while the tawny dog bayed, bellowed,howled at him, and a group of servants came bundling from the kitchen.The dog made a spring; the second gentleman turned tail and rushed afterhis comrade. The first was already safe in a bedroom; he held the dooragainst his fellow--nothing so merciless as terror. But the otherfugitive struggled hard; the door was about to yield to his strength.
"Gentlemen," was uttered in Miss Keeldar's silvery but vibrating tones,"spare my locks, if you please. Calm yourselves! Come down! Look atTartar; he won't harm a cat."
She was caressing the said Tartar. He lay crouched at her feet, his forepaws stretched out, his tail still in threatening agitation, hisnostrils snorting, his bulldog eyes conscious of a dull fire. He was anhonest, phlegmatic, stupid, but stubborn canine character. He loved hismistress and John--the man who fed him--but was mostly indifferent tothe rest of the world. Quiet enough he was, unless struck or threatenedwith a stick, and that put a demon into him at once.
"Mr. Malone, how do you do?" continued Shirley, lifting up her mirth-litface to the gallery. "That is not the way to the oak parlour; that isMrs. Pryor's apartment. Request your friend Mr. Donne to evacuate. Ishall have the greatest pleasure in receiving him in a lower room."
"Ha! ha!" cried Malone, in hollow laughter, quitting the door, andleaning over the massive balustrade. "Really that animal alarmed Donne.He is a little timid," he proceeded, stiffening himself, and walkingtrimly to the stairhead. "I thought it better to follow, in order toreassure him."
"It appears you did. Well, come down, if you please.--John" (turning toher manservant), "go upstairs and liberate Mr. Donne.--Take care, Mr.Malone; the stairs are slippery."
In truth they were, being of polished oak. The caution came a littlelate for Malone. He had slipped already in his stately descent, and wasonly saved from falling by a clutch at the banisters, which made thewhole structure creak again.
Tartar seemed to think the visitor's descent effected with unwarranted_eclat_, and accordingly he growled once more. Malone, however, was nocoward. The spring of the dog had taken him by surprise, but he passedhim now in suppressed fury rather than fear. If a look could havestrangled Tartar, he would have breathed no more. Forgetting politenessin his sullen rage, Malone pushed into the parlour before Miss Keeldar.He glanced at Miss Helstone; he could scarcely bring himself to bend toher. He glared on both the ladies. He looked as if, had either of thembeen his wife, he would have made a glorious husband at the moment. Ineach hand he seemed as if he would have liked to clutch one and gripeher to death.
However, Shirley took pity. She ceased to laugh; and Caroline was tootrue a lady to smile even at any one under mortification. Tartar wasdismissed; Peter Augustus was soothed--for Shirley had looks and tonesthat might soothe a very bull. He had sense to feel that, since he couldnot challenge the owner of the dog, he had better be civil. And civil hetried to be; and his attempts being well received, he grew presently_very_ civil and quite himself again. He had come, indeed, for theexpress purpose of making himself charming and fascinating. Roughportents had met him on his first admission to Fieldhead; but thatpassage got over, charming and fascinating he resolved to be. LikeMarch, having come in like a lion, he purposed to go out like a lamb.
For the sake of air, as it appeared, or perhaps for that of ready exitin case of some new emergency arising, he took his seat,--not on thesofa, where Miss Keeldar offered him enthronization, nor yet near thefireside, to which Caroline, by a friendly sign, gently invited him, buton a chair close to the door. Being no longer sullen or furious, hegrew, after his fashion, constrained and embarrassed. He talked to theladies by fits and starts, choosing for topics whatever was mostintensely commonplace. He sighed deeply, significantly, at the close ofevery sentence; he sighed in each pause; he sighed ere he opened hismouth. At last, finding it desirable to add ease to his other charms, hedrew forth to aid him an ample silk pocket-handkerchief. This was to bethe graceful toy with which his unoccupied hands were to trifle. He wentto work with a certain energy. He folded the red-and-yellow squarecornerwise; he whipped it open with a waft; again he folded it innarrower compass; he made of it a handsome band. To what purpose wouldhe proceed to apply the ligature? Would he wrap it about his throat--hishead? Should it be a comforter or a turban? Neither. Peter Augustus hadan inventive, an original genius. He was about to show the ladies gracesof action possessing at least the charm of novelty. He sat on the chairwith his athletic Irish legs crossed,
and these legs, in that attitude,he circled with the bandana and bound firmly together. It was evidenthe felt this device to be worth an encore; he repeated it more thanonce. The second performance sent Shirley to the window, to laugh hersilent but irrepressible laugh unseen; it turned Caroline's head aside,that her long curls might screen the smile mantling on her features.Miss Helstone, indeed, was amused by more than one point in Peter'sdemeanour. She was edified at the complete though abrupt diversion ofhis homage from herself to the heiress. The L5,000 he supposed herlikely one day to inherit were not to be weighed in the balance againstMiss Keeldar's estate and hall. He took no pains to conceal hiscalculations and tactics. He pretended to no gradual change of views; hewheeled about at once. The pursuit of the lesser fortune was openlyrelinquished for that of the greater. On what grounds he expected tosucceed in his chase himself best knew; certainly not by skilfulmanagement.
From the length of time that elapsed, it appeared that John had somedifficulty in persuading Mr. Donne to descend. At length, however, thatgentleman appeared; nor, as he presented himself at the oak-parlourdoor, did he seem in the slightest degree ashamed or confused--not awhit. Donne, indeed, was of that coldly phlegmatic, immovablycomplacent, densely self-satisfied nature which is insensible to shame.He had never blushed in his life; no humiliation could abash him; hisnerves were not capable of sensation enough to stir his life and makecolour mount to his cheek; he had no fire in his blood and no modesty inhis soul; he was a frontless, arrogant, decorous slip of thecommonplace--conceited, inane, insipid; and this gentleman had a notionof wooing Miss Keeldar! He knew no more, however, how to set about thebusiness than if he had been an image carved in wood. He had no idea ofa taste to be pleased, a heart to be reached in courtship. His notionwas, when he should have formally visited her a few times, to write aletter proposing marriage. Then he calculated she would accept him forlove of his office; then they would be married; then he should be masterof Fieldhead; and he should live very comfortably, have servants at hiscommand, eat and drink of the best, and be a great man. You would nothave suspected his intentions when he addressed his intended bride in animpertinent, injured tone--"A very dangerous dog that, Miss Keeldar. Iwonder you should keep such an animal."
"Do you, Mr. Donne? Perhaps you will wonder more when I tell you I amvery fond of him."
"I should say you are not serious in the assertion. Can't fancy a ladyfond of that brute--'tis so ugly--a mere carter's dog. Pray hang him."
"Hang what I am fond of!"
"And purchase in his stead some sweetly pooty pug or poodle--somethingappropriate to the fair sex. Ladies generally like lap-dogs."
"Perhaps I am an exception."
"Oh, you can't be, you know. All ladies are alike in those matters. Thatis universally allowed."
"Tartar frightened you terribly, Mr. Donne. I hope you won't take anyharm."
"That I shall, no doubt. He gave me a turn I shall not soon forget. WhenI _sor_ him" (such was Mr. Donne's pronunciation) "about to spring, Ithought I should have fainted."
"Perhaps you did faint in the bedroom; you were a long time there."
"No; I bore up that I might hold the door fast. I was determined not tolet any one enter. I thought I would keep a barrier between me and theenemy."
"But what if your friend Mr. Malone had been worried?"
"Malone must take care of himself. Your man persuaded me to come out atlast by saying the dog was chained up in his kennel. If I had not beenassured of this, I would have remained all day in the chamber. But whatis that? I declare the man has told a falsehood! The dog is there!"
And indeed Tartar walked past the glass door opening to the garden,stiff, tawny, and black-muzzled as ever. He still seemed in bad humour.He was growling again, and whistling a half-strangled whistle, being aninheritance from the bulldog side of his ancestry.
"There are other visitors coming," observed Shirley, with that provokingcoolness which the owners of formidable-looking dogs are apt to showwhile their animals are all bristle and bay. Tartar sprang down thepavement towards the gate, bellowing _avec explosion_. His mistressquietly opened the glass door, and stepped out chirruping to him. Hisbellow was already silenced, and he was lifting up his huge, blunt,stupid head to the new callers to be patted.
"What! Tartar, Tartar!" said a cheery, rather boyish voice, "don't youknow us? Good-morning, old boy!"
And little Mr. Sweeting, whose conscious good nature made himcomparatively fearless of man, woman, child, or brute, came through thegate, caressing the guardian. His vicar, Mr. Hall, followed. He had nofear of Tartar either, and Tartar had no ill-will to him. He snuffedboth the gentlemen round, and then, as if concluding that they wereharmless, and might be allowed to pass, he withdrew to the sunny frontof the hall, leaving the archway free. Mr. Sweeting followed, and wouldhave played with him; but Tartar took no notice of his caresses. It wasonly his mistress's hand whose touch gave him pleasure; to all others heshowed himself obstinately insensible.
Shirley advanced to meet Messrs. Hall and Sweeting, shaking hands withthem cordially. They were come to tell her of certain successes they hadachieved that morning in applications for subscriptions to the fund. Mr.Hall's eyes beamed benignantly through his spectacles, his plain facelooked positively handsome with goodness; and when Caroline, seeing whowas come, ran out to meet him, and put both her hands into his, he gazeddown on her with a gentle, serene, affectionate expression that gave himthe aspect of a smiling Melanchthon.
Instead of re-entering the house, they strayed through the garden, theladies walking one on each side of Mr. Hall. It was a breezy sunny day;the air freshened the girls' cheeks and gracefully dishevelled theirringlets. Both of them looked pretty--one gay. Mr. Hall spoke oftenestto his brilliant companion, looked most frequently at the quiet one.Miss Keeldar gathered handfuls of the profusely blooming flowers whoseperfume filled the enclosure. She gave some to Caroline, telling her tochoose a nosegay for Mr. Hall; and with her lap filled with delicate andsplendid blossoms, Caroline sat down on the steps of a summer-house. Thevicar stood near her, leaning on his cane.
Shirley, who could not be inhospitable, now called out the neglectedpair in the oak parlour. She convoyed Donne past his dread enemy Tartar,who, with his nose on his fore paws, lay snoring under the meridian sun.Donne was not grateful--he never _was_ grateful for kindness andattention--but he was glad of the safeguard. Miss Keeldar, desirous ofbeing impartial, offered the curates flowers. They accepted them withnative awkwardness. Malone seemed specially at a loss, when a bouquetfilled one hand, while his shillelah occupied the other. Donne's "Thankyou!" was rich to hear. It was the most fatuous and arrogant of sounds,implying that he considered this offering a homage to his merits, and anattempt on the part of the heiress to ingratiate herself into hispriceless affections. Sweeting alone received the posy like a smart,sensible little man, as he was, putting it gallantly and nattily intohis buttonhole.
As a reward for his good manners, Miss Keeldar, beckoning him apart,gave him some commission, which made his eyes sparkle with glee. Away heflew, round by the courtyard to the kitchen. No need to give himdirections; he was always at home everywhere. Ere long he reappeared,carrying a round table, which he placed under the cedar; then hecollected six garden-chairs from various nooks and bowers in thegrounds, and placed them in a circle. The parlour-maid--Miss Keeldarkept no footman--came out, bearing a napkin-covered tray. Sweeting'snimble fingers aided in disposing glasses, plates, knives, and forks; heassisted her too in setting forth a neat luncheon, consisting of coldchicken, ham, and tarts.
This sort of impromptu regale it was Shirley's delight to offer anychance guests; and nothing pleased her better than to have an alert,obliging little friend, like Sweeting, to run about her hand, cheerilyreceive and briskly execute her hospitable hints. David and she were onthe best terms in the world; and his devotion to the heiress was quitedisinterested, since it prejudiced in nothing his faithful allegiance tothe magnificent Dora Sykes.
The repast
turned out a very merry one. Donne and Malone, indeed,contributed but little to its vivacity, the chief part they played in itbeing what concerned the knife, fork, and wine-glass; but where foursuch natures as Mr. Hall, David Sweeting, Shirley, and Caroline wereassembled in health and amity, on a green lawn, under a sunny sky,amidst a wilderness of flowers, there could not be ungenial dullness.
In the course of conversation Mr. Hall reminded the ladies thatWhitsuntide was approaching, when the grand united Sunday-schooltea-drinking and procession of the three parishes of Briarfield,Whinbury, and Nunnely were to take place. Caroline, he knew, would be ather post as teacher, he said, and he hoped Miss Keeldar would not bewanting. He hoped she would make her first public appearance amongstthem at that time. Shirley was not the person to miss an occasion ofthis sort. She liked festive excitement, a gathering of happiness, aconcentration and combination of pleasant details, a throng of gladfaces, a muster of elated hearts. She told Mr. Hall they might count onher with security. She did not know what she would have to do, but theymight dispose of her as they pleased.
"And," said Caroline, "you will promise to come to my table, and to sitnear me, Mr. Hall?"
"I shall not fail, _Deo volente_," said he.--"I have occupied the placeon her right hand at these monster tea-drinkings for the last sixyears," he proceeded, turning to Miss Keeldar. "They made her aSunday-school teacher when she was a little girl of twelve. She is notparticularly self-confident by nature, as you may have observed; and thefirst time she had to 'take a tray,' as the phrase is, and make tea inpublic, there was some piteous trembling and flushing. I observed thespeechless panic, the cups shaking in the little hand, and theoverflowing teapot filled too full from the urn. I came to her aid, tooka seat near her, managed the urn and the slop-basin, and in fact madethe tea for her like any old woman."
"I was very grateful to you," interposed Caroline.
"You were. You told me so with an earnest sincerity that repaid me well,inasmuch as it was not like the majority of little ladies of twelve,whom you may help and caress for ever without their evincing any quickersense of the kindness done and meant than if they were made of wax andwood instead of flesh and nerves.--She kept close to me, Miss Keeldar,the rest of the evening, walking with me over the grounds where thechildren were playing; she followed me into the vestry when all weresummoned into church; she would, I believe, have mounted with me to thepulpit, had I not taken the previous precaution of conducting her to therectory pew."
"And he has been my friend ever since," said Caroline.
"And always sat at her table, near her tray, and handed the cups--thatis the extent of my services. The next thing I do for her will be tomarry her some day to some curate or mill-owner.--But mind, Caroline, Ishall inquire about the bridegroom's character; and if he is not agentleman likely to render happy the little girl who walked with mehand in hand over Nunnely Common, I will not officiate. So take care."
"The caution is useless. I am not going to be married. I shall livesingle, like your sister Margaret, Mr. Hall."
"Very well. You might do worse. Margaret is not unhappy. She has herbooks for a pleasure, and her brother for a care, and is content. Ifever you want a home, if the day should come when Briarfield rectory isyours no longer, come to Nunnely vicarage. Should the old maid andbachelor be still living, they will make you tenderly welcome."
"There are your flowers. Now," said Caroline, who had kept the nosegayshe had selected for him till this moment, "_you_ don't care for abouquet, but you must give it to Margaret; only--to be sentimental foronce--keep that little forget-me-not, which is a wild flower I gatheredfrom the grass; and--to be still more sentimental--let me take two orthree of the blue blossoms and put them in my souvenir."
And she took out a small book with enamelled cover and silver clasp,wherein, having opened it, she inserted the flowers, writing round themin pencil, "To be kept for the sake of the Rev. Cyril Hall, my friend.May --, 18--."
The Rev. Cyril Hall, on his part, also placed a sprig in safety betweenthe leaves of a pocket Testament. He only wrote on the margin,"Caroline."
"Now," said he, smiling, "I trust we are romantic enough. Miss Keeldar,"he continued (the curates, by-the-bye, during this conversation, weretoo much occupied with their own jokes to notice what passed at theother end of the table), "I hope you are laughing at this trait of'_exaltation_' in the old gray-headed vicar; but the fact is, I am soused to comply with the requests of this young friend of yours, I don'tknow how to refuse her when she tells me to do anything. You would sayit is not much in my way to traffic with flowers and forget-me-nots;but, you see, when requested to be sentimental, I am obedient."
"He is naturally rather sentimental," remarked Caroline. "Margaret toldme so, and I know what pleases him."
"That you should be good and happy? Yes; that is one of my greatestpleasures. May God long preserve to you the blessings of peace andinnocence! By which phrase I mean _comparative_ innocence; for in Hissight, I am well aware, _none_ are pure. What to our human perceptionslooks spotless as we fancy angels, is to Him but frailty, needing theblood of His Son to cleanse, and the strength of His Spirit to sustain.Let us each and all cherish humility--I, as you, my young friends; andwe may well do it when we look into our own hearts, and see theretemptations, inconsistencies, propensities, even we blush to recognize.And it is not youth, nor good looks, nor grace, nor any gentle outsidecharm which makes either beauty or goodness in God's eyes.--Youngladies, when your mirror or men's tongues flatter you, remember that, inthe sight of her Maker, Mary Ann Ainley--a woman whom neither glass norlips have ever panegyrized--is fairer and better than either of you. Sheis indeed," he added, after a pause--"she is indeed. You young things,wrapt up in yourselves and in earthly hopes, scarcely live as Christlived. Perhaps you cannot do it yet, while existence is so sweet andearth so smiling to you; it would be too much to expect. She, with meekheart and due reverence, treads close in her Redeemer's steps."
Here the harsh voice of Donne broke in on the mild tones of Mr. Hall."Ahem!" he began, clearing his throat evidently for a speech of someimportance--"ahem! Miss Keeldar, your attention an instant, if youplease."
"Well," said Shirley nonchalantly, "what is it? I listen. All of me isear that is not eye."
"I hope part of you is hand also," returned Donne, in his vulgarlypresumptuous and familiar style, "and part purse. It is to the hand andpurse I propose to appeal. I came here this morning with a view to begof you----"
"You should have gone to Mrs. Gill; she is my almoner."
"To beg of you a subscription to a school. I and Dr. Boultby intend toerect one in the hamlet of Ecclefigg, which is under our vicarage ofWhinbury. The Baptists have got possession of it. They have a chapelthere, and we want to dispute the ground."
"But I have nothing to do with Ecclefigg. I possess no property there."
"What does that signify? You're a churchwoman, ain't you?"
"Admirable creature!" muttered Shirley, under her breath. "Exquisiteaddress! Fine style! What raptures he excites in me!" Then aloud, "I ama churchwoman, certainly."
"Then you can't refuse to contribute in this case. The population ofEcclefigg are a parcel of brutes; we want to civilize them."
"Who is to be the missionary?"
"Myself, probably."
"You won't fail through lack of sympathy with your flock."
"I hope not--I expect success; but we must have money. There is thepaper. Pray give a handsome sum."
When asked for money, Shirley rarely held back. She put down her namefor L5. After the L300 she had lately given, and the many smaller sumsshe was giving constantly, it was as much as she could at presentafford. Donne looked at it, declared the subscription "shabby," andclamorously demanded more. Miss Keeldar flushed up with some indignationand more astonishment.
"At present I shall give no more," said she.
"Not give more! Why, I expected you to head the list with a coolhundred. With your property, you should never put down a sign
ature forless."
She was silent.
"In the south," went on Donne, "a lady with a thousand a year would beashamed to give five pounds for a public object."
Shirley, so rarely haughty, looked so now. Her slight frame becamenerved; her distinguished face quickened with scorn.
"Strange remarks?" said she--"most inconsiderate! Reproach in return forbounty is misplaced."
"Bounty! Do you call five pounds bounty?"
"I do; and bounty which, had I not given it to Dr. Boultby's intendedschool, of the erection of which I approve, and in no sort to hiscurate, who seems ill-advised in his manner of applying for, or ratherextorting, subscriptions--bounty, I repeat, which, but for thisconsideration, I should instantly reclaim."
Donne was thick-skinned. He did not feel all or half that the tone, air,glance of the speaker expressed. He knew not on what ground he stood.
"Wretched place this Yorkshire," he went on. "I could never have formedan idea_r_ of the country had I not seen it. And the people--rich andpoor--what a set! How _corse_ and uncultivated! They would be scouted inthe south."
Shirley leaned forwards on the table, her nostrils dilating a little,her taper fingers interlaced and compressing each other hard.
"The rich," pursued the infatuated and unconscious Donne, "are a parcelof misers, never living as persons with their incomes ought to live. Youscarsley"--(you must excuse Mr. Donne's pronunciation, reader; it wasvery choice; he considered it genteel, and prided himself on hissouthern accent; northern ears received with singular sensations hisutterance of certain words)--"you scarsley ever see a fam'ly where apropa carriage or a reg'la butla is kep; and as to the poor--just lookat them when they come crowding about the church doors on the occasionof a marriage or a funeral, clattering in clogs; the men in theirshirt-sleeves and wool-combers' aprons, the women in mob-caps andbed-gowns. They positively deserve that one should turn a mad cow inamongst them to rout their rabble-ranks. He-he! what fun it would be!"
"There! you have reached the climax," said Shirley quietly. "You havereached the climax," she repeated, turning her glowing glance towardshim. "You cannot go beyond it, and," she added with emphasis, "you_shall_ not, in my house."
Up she rose--nobody could control her now, for she wasexasperated--straight she walked to her garden gates, wide she flungthem open.
"Walk through," she said austerely, "and pretty quickly, and set foot onthis pavement no more."
Donne was astounded. He had thought all the time he was showing himselfoff to high advantage, as a lofty-souled person of the first "ton;" heimagined he was producing a crushing impression. Had he not expresseddisdain of everything in Yorkshire? What more conclusive proof could begiven that he was better than anything there? And yet here was he aboutto be turned like a dog out of a Yorkshire garden! Where, under suchcircumstances, was the "concatenation accordingly"?
"Rid me of you instantly--instantly!" reiterated Shirley, as helingered.
"Madam--a clergyman! turn out a clergyman!"
"Off! Were you an archbishop you have proved yourself no gentleman, andmust go. Quick!"
She was quite resolved. There was no trifling with her. Besides, Tartarwas again rising; he perceived symptoms of a commotion; he manifested adisposition to join in. There was evidently nothing for it but to go,and Donne made his exodus, the heiress sweeping him a deep curtsy as sheclosed the gates on him.
"How dare the pompous priest abuse his flock! How dare the lispingcockney revile Yorkshire!" was her sole observation on the circumstance,as she returned to the table.
Ere long the little party broke up; Miss Keeldar's ruffled and darkenedbrow, curled lip, and incensed eye gave no invitation to further socialenjoyment.