"Her back is very large; she seems to have sat for that," said

Rosamond, not meaning any satire, but thinking how red young Plymdale's

hands were, and wondering why Lydgate did not come. She went on with

her tatting all the while.

"I did not say she was as beautiful as you are," said Mr. Ned,

venturing to look from the portrait to its rival.

"I suspect you of being an adroit flatterer," said Rosamond, feeling

sure that she should have to reject this young gentleman a second time.

But now Lydgate came in; the book was closed before he reached

Rosamond's corner, and as he took his seat with easy confidence on the

other side of her, young Plymdale's jaw fell like a barometer towards

the cheerless side of change. Rosamond enjoyed not only Lydgate's

presence but its effect: she liked to excite jealousy.

"What a late comer you are!" she said, as they shook hands. "Mamma had

given you up a little while ago. How do you find Fred?"

"As usual; going on well, but slowly. I want him to go away--to Stone

Court, for example. But your mamma seems to have some objection."

"Poor fellow!" said Rosamond, prettily. "You will see Fred so

changed," she added, turning to the other suitor; "we have looked to

Mr. Lydgate as our guardian angel during this illness."

Mr. Ned smiled nervously, while Lydgate, drawing the "Keepsake" towards

him and opening it, gave a short scornful laugh and tossed up his

chin, as if in wonderment at human folly.

"What are you laughing at so profanely?" said Rosamond, with bland

neutrality.

"I wonder which would turn out to be the silliest--the engravings or

the writing here," said Lydgate, in his most convinced tone, while he

turned over the pages quickly, seeming to see all through the book in

no time, and showing his large white hands to much advantage, as

Rosamond thought. "Do look at this bridegroom coming out of church:

did you ever see such a 'sugared invention'--as the Elizabethans used

to say? Did any haberdasher ever look so smirking? Yet I will answer

for it the story makes him one of the first gentlemen in the land."

"You are so severe, I am frightened at you," said Rosamond, keeping her

amusement duly moderate. Poor young Plymdale had lingered with

admiration over this very engraving, and his spirit was stirred.

"There are a great many celebrated people writing in the 'Keepsake,' at

all events," he said, in a tone at once piqued and timid. "This is the

first time I have heard it called silly."

"I think I shall turn round on you and accuse you of being a Goth,"

said Rosamond, looking at Lydgate with a smile. "I suspect you know

nothing about Lady Blessington and L. E. L." Rosamond herself was not

without relish for these writers, but she did not readily commit

herself by admiration, and was alive to the slightest hint that

anything was not, according to Lydgate, in the very highest taste.




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