It chanced that Flora had met Mr. Robbie in the course of the
afternoon. 'Now, Miss Flora,' he had said, 'come early, for I have
a Phoenix to show you--one Mr. Ducie, a new client of mine that, I
vow, I have fallen in love with'; and he was so good as to add a
word or two on my appearance, from which Flora conceived a
suspicion of the truth. She had come to the party, in consequence,
on the knife-edge of anticipation and alarm; had chosen a place by
the door, where I found her, on my arrival, surrounded by a posse
of vapid youths; and, when I drew near, sprang up to meet me in the
most natural manner in the world, and, obviously, with a prepared
form of words.
'How do you do, Mr. Ducie?' she said. 'It is quite an age since I
have seen you!'
'I have much to tell you, Miss Gilchrist,' I replied. 'May I sit
down?'
For the artful girl, by sitting near the door, and the judicious
use of her shawl, had contrived to keep a chair empty by her side.
She made room for me, as a matter of course, and the youths had the
discretion to melt before us. As soon as I was once seated her fan
flew out, and she whispered behind it:
'Are you mad?'
'Madly in love,' I replied; 'but in no other sense.'
'I have no patience! You cannot understand what I am suffering!'
she said. 'What are you to say to Ronald, to Major Chevenix, to my
aunt?'
Your aunt?' I cried, with a start.
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