"Not a bad move on her part," said Coventry in reply. "She must be an
observing as well as an energetic young person, to discover your chief
weakness and attack it so soon. First tame the horse, and then the
master. It will be amusing to watch the game, only I shall be under the
painful necessity of checkmating you both, if it gets serious."
"You needn't exert yourself, old fellow, on my account. If I was not
above thinking ill of an inoffensive girl, I should say you were the
prize best worth winning, and advise you to take care of your own heart,
if you've got one, which I rather doubt."
"I often doubt it, myself; but I fancy the little Scotchwoman will not
be able to satisfy either of us upon that point. How does your highness
like her?" asked Coventry of his cousin, who sat near him.
"Better than I thought I should. She is well-bred, unassuming, and very
entertaining when she likes. She has told us some of the wittiest
stories I've heard for a long time. Didn't our laughter wake you?"
replied Lucia.
"Yes. Now atone for it by amusing me with a repetition of these
witty tales."
"That is impossible; her accent and manner are half the charm," said
Ned. "I wish you had kept away ten minutes longer, for your appearance
spoilt the best story of all."
"Why didn't she go on?" asked Coventry, with a ray of curiosity.
"You forget that she overheard us last night, and must feel that you
consider her a bore. She has pride, and no woman forgets speeches like
those you made," answered Lucia.
"Or forgives them, either, I believe. Well, I must be resigned to
languish under her displeasure then. On Sydney's account I take a slight
interest in her; not that I expect to learn anything from her, for a
woman with a mouth like that never confides or confesses anything. But I
have a fancy to see what captivated him; for captivated he was, beyond a
doubt, and by no lady whom he met in society. Did you ever hear anything
of it, Ned?" asked Gerald.
"I'm not fond of scandal or gossip, and never listen to either." With
which remark Edward left the room.
Lucia was called out by the housekeeper a moment after, and Coventry
left to the society most wearisome to him, namely his own. As he
entered, he had caught a part of the story which Miss Muir had been
telling, and it had excited his curiosity so much that he found himself
wondering what the end could be and wishing that he might hear it.
What the deuce did she run away for, when I came in? he thought. If she
is amusing, she must make herself useful; for it's intensely dull, I
own, here, in spite of Lucia. Hey, what's that?