A Woman-Hater [138]
"What, going already?" and having paid that tax to politeness, returned to the house with alacrity.
But the doctress would not go without her Wolf's-bane, Aconite ycleped.
The irrelevant zealot being gone, the true business of the mind was resumed; and that is love-making, or novelists give us false pictures of life, and that is impossible.
As the doctress drove from the front door, Lord Uxmoor emerged from the library--a coincidence that made both girls smile; he hoped Miss Vizard was not too tired to take another turn.
"Oh no!" said Zoe: "are you, Fanny?"
At the first step they took, Severne came round an angle of the building and joined them. He had watched from the balcony of his bedroom.
Both men looked black at each other, and made up to Zoe. She felt uncomfortable, and hardly knew what to do. However, she would not seem to observe, and was polite, but a little stiff, to both.
However, at last, Severne, having asserted his rights, as he thought, gave way, but not without a sufficient motive, as may be gathered from his first word to Fanny.
"My dear friend, for Heaven's sake, what is the matter? She is angry with me about something. What is it? has she told you?"
"Not a word. But I see she is in a fury with you; and really it is too ridiculous. You told a fib; that is the mighty matter, I do believe. No, it isn't; for you have told her a hundred, no doubt, and she liked you all the better; but this time you have been naughty enough to be found out, and she is romantic, and thinks her lover ought to be the soul of truth."
"Well, and so he ought," said Ned.
"He isn't, then;" and Fanny burst out laughing so loud that Zoe turned round and enveloped them both in one haughty glance, as the exaggerating Gaul would say.
"La! there was a look for you!" said Fanny, pertly: "as if I cared for her black brows."
"I do, though: pray remember that."
"Then tell no more fibs. Such a fuss about nothing! What is a fib?" and she turned up her little nose very contemptuously at all such trivial souls as minded a little mendacity.
Indeed, she disclaimed the importance of veracity so imperiously that Severne was betrayed into saying, "Well, not much, between you and me; and I'll be bound I can explain it."
"Explain it to me, then."
"Well, but I don't know--"
"Which of your fibs it was."
Another silver burst of laughter. But Zoe only vouchsafed a slightly contemptuous movement of her shoulders.
"Well, no," said Severne, half laughing himself at the sprightly jade's smartness.
"Well, then, that friend of yours that called at luncheon."
Severne turned grave directly. "Yes," said he.
"You said he was your lawyer, and came about a lease."
"So he did."
"And his name was Jackson.
"So it was."
"This won't do. You mustn't fib to _me!_ It was Poikilus, a Secret Inquiry; and they all know it; now tell me, without a fib-- if you can--what ever did you want with Poikilus?"
Severne looked aghast. He faltered out, "Why, how could they know?"
"Why, he advertises, stupid! and Lord Uxmoor and Harrington had seen it. Gentlemen _read_ advertisements. That is one of their peculiarities."
"Of course he advertises: that is not what I mean. I did not drop his card, did I? No; I am sure I pocketed it directly. What mischief-making villain told them it was Poikilus?"
Fanny colored a little, but said, hastily, "Ah, that I could not tell you."
"The footman, perhaps?"
"I should not wonder." (What is a fib?)
"Curse him!"
"Oh, don't swear at the servants; that is bad taste."
"Not when he has ruined me?"
"Ruined you?--nonsense! Make up some other fib, and excuse the first."
"I can't. I don't know what to do; and before my rival, too! This accounts for the air of triumph he has worn ever since, and her glances of scorn and pity. She is an angel, and I have lost her."
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Fanny Dover. "Be a man, and tell me the truth."
"Well, I will," said he; "for I am in despair. It is all that cursed money at Homburg. I could not clear my estate
But the doctress would not go without her Wolf's-bane, Aconite ycleped.
The irrelevant zealot being gone, the true business of the mind was resumed; and that is love-making, or novelists give us false pictures of life, and that is impossible.
As the doctress drove from the front door, Lord Uxmoor emerged from the library--a coincidence that made both girls smile; he hoped Miss Vizard was not too tired to take another turn.
"Oh no!" said Zoe: "are you, Fanny?"
At the first step they took, Severne came round an angle of the building and joined them. He had watched from the balcony of his bedroom.
Both men looked black at each other, and made up to Zoe. She felt uncomfortable, and hardly knew what to do. However, she would not seem to observe, and was polite, but a little stiff, to both.
However, at last, Severne, having asserted his rights, as he thought, gave way, but not without a sufficient motive, as may be gathered from his first word to Fanny.
"My dear friend, for Heaven's sake, what is the matter? She is angry with me about something. What is it? has she told you?"
"Not a word. But I see she is in a fury with you; and really it is too ridiculous. You told a fib; that is the mighty matter, I do believe. No, it isn't; for you have told her a hundred, no doubt, and she liked you all the better; but this time you have been naughty enough to be found out, and she is romantic, and thinks her lover ought to be the soul of truth."
"Well, and so he ought," said Ned.
"He isn't, then;" and Fanny burst out laughing so loud that Zoe turned round and enveloped them both in one haughty glance, as the exaggerating Gaul would say.
"La! there was a look for you!" said Fanny, pertly: "as if I cared for her black brows."
"I do, though: pray remember that."
"Then tell no more fibs. Such a fuss about nothing! What is a fib?" and she turned up her little nose very contemptuously at all such trivial souls as minded a little mendacity.
Indeed, she disclaimed the importance of veracity so imperiously that Severne was betrayed into saying, "Well, not much, between you and me; and I'll be bound I can explain it."
"Explain it to me, then."
"Well, but I don't know--"
"Which of your fibs it was."
Another silver burst of laughter. But Zoe only vouchsafed a slightly contemptuous movement of her shoulders.
"Well, no," said Severne, half laughing himself at the sprightly jade's smartness.
"Well, then, that friend of yours that called at luncheon."
Severne turned grave directly. "Yes," said he.
"You said he was your lawyer, and came about a lease."
"So he did."
"And his name was Jackson.
"So it was."
"This won't do. You mustn't fib to _me!_ It was Poikilus, a Secret Inquiry; and they all know it; now tell me, without a fib-- if you can--what ever did you want with Poikilus?"
Severne looked aghast. He faltered out, "Why, how could they know?"
"Why, he advertises, stupid! and Lord Uxmoor and Harrington had seen it. Gentlemen _read_ advertisements. That is one of their peculiarities."
"Of course he advertises: that is not what I mean. I did not drop his card, did I? No; I am sure I pocketed it directly. What mischief-making villain told them it was Poikilus?"
Fanny colored a little, but said, hastily, "Ah, that I could not tell you."
"The footman, perhaps?"
"I should not wonder." (What is a fib?)
"Curse him!"
"Oh, don't swear at the servants; that is bad taste."
"Not when he has ruined me?"
"Ruined you?--nonsense! Make up some other fib, and excuse the first."
"I can't. I don't know what to do; and before my rival, too! This accounts for the air of triumph he has worn ever since, and her glances of scorn and pity. She is an angel, and I have lost her."
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Fanny Dover. "Be a man, and tell me the truth."
"Well, I will," said he; "for I am in despair. It is all that cursed money at Homburg. I could not clear my estate