258 THE MASTER OF THE HOUNDS. 



thing for a Scotchwoman to do. No, no, Charlie dear; X 

 prefer being my old man's darling, to any gay young man's 

 slave." 



" Quite right, my prudent little cousin ; and a precious 

 darling you will be, no doubt, in his opinion. But now let 

 us have dinner," ringing the bell ; " Aunty and Con are 

 uncommonly late, and I can wait no longer." 



The dinner-hour passed heavily away, Lord Malcolm making 

 ineffectual efforts to enliven the party ; but nothing could 

 rouse Beauchamp from his abstraction, and his sorrowful looks, 

 fixed alternately on Blanche and Mrs. Gordon, infected them 

 all. 



"Confound your sour-crout visage," exclaimed Malcolm. 

 "Why, Beauchamp, you are like a wet blanket in a frosty 

 night— enough to congeal one's blood. House, rouse yourself, 

 my dear fellow ; and here, Blanche, fill his glass, to our next 

 merry meeting at the Priory." 



" May that meeting find us all unchanged in hearts and 

 feelings," exclaimed Beauchamp, impressively, as he placed his 

 empty glass on the table. 



" And Will Beauchamp," added Malcolm, gaily, " in a more 

 lively humour. And now, aunty, with your leave, I will ring 

 for another bottle of wine ; or, by Jove ! we shall find him 

 suspended by the neck from the old chestnut tree on the lawn 

 to-morrow morning — or stay — his razors — egad ! aunt, you and 

 Blanche had better take them away and hide them — no saying 

 what he may do, now this blue fit is upon him." 



" Do leave William alone, Charles," replied Mrs. Gordon. 



" I dare not, aunty dear, until he has swallowed a bottle of 

 wine, which may keep him from committing felo-de-se until 

 to-morrow evening, when Miss Honoria Winterbottom will 

 perhaps enliven him with her innocent prattle and sweet 

 musical strains, or her ma' and the old squire may, all four, get 

 comfortably merry together." 



" Charles," exclaimed Mrs. Gordon, rising to leave the room, 

 "you are incorrigible — but remember, we must retire early 

 to-night." 



We will draw a veil over the parting scene between Blanche 

 and Beauchamp the following morning, after which he handed 

 her to the carriage in silence, not daring to trust his voice in a 

 last farewell ; and Blanche sunk back on the cushion to conceal 

 her fast falling tears. When shaking hands with Mrs. Gordon, 

 Constance, and Malcolm, the firm grasping of their hands in his 



