"I'll risk it now," said he; and he rode
back to Fountain and imparted his intention, and the senior nearly
bounded off his seat. He sounded the charge in a stage whisper,
because of the coachman, "At her at once!"
"Secret conference? hum!" said Lucy, twisting her pony, and looking
slyly back.
Mr. Talboys rejoined her, and, after a while, began in strange,
melodious accents, "You will leave a blank--"
"Shall we canter?" said Lucy, gayly, and off went the pony. Talboys
followed, and at the next hill resumed the sentimental cadence.
"You will leave a sad blank here, Miss Fountain."
"No greater than I found," replied the lady, innocently (?). "Oh,
dear!" she cried, with sudden interest, "I am afraid I have dropped my
comb." She felt under her hat. [No, viper, you have not dropped your
comb, but you are feeling for a large black pin with a head to it.
There, you have found it, and taken it out of your hair, and got it
hid in your hand. What is that for?]
"Ten times greater," moaned the honeyed Talboys; "for then we had not
seen you. Ah! my dear Miss Fountain-- The devil! wo-ho, Goliah!"
For the pony spilled the treacle. He lashed out both heels with a
squeak of amazement within an inch of Mr. Talboys' horse, which
instantly began to rear, and plunge, and snort. While Talboys, an
excellent horseman, was calming his steed, Lucy was condoling with
hers. "Dear little naughty fellow!" said she, patting him ["I did it
too hard"].
"As I was saying, the blessing we have never enjoyed we do not miss;
but, now that you have shone upon us, what can reconcile us to lose
you, unless it be the hope that-- Hallo!"
Lucy.
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