There's not much merit in that. Pray, don't cite me. Women are born
cowards, you know."

"But I love the women who are not cowards."

"The little thing--your wife has not refused to go?"

"No--but tears! Who can stand tears?"

Lucy had come to drop them. Unaccustomed to have his will thwarted, and
urgent where he saw the thing to do so clearly, the young husband had
spoken strong words: and she, who knew that she would have given her life
by inches for him; who knew that she was playing a part for his
happiness, and hiding for his sake the nature that was worthy his esteem;
the poor little martyr had been weak a moment.

She had Adrian's support. The wise youth was very comfortable. He liked
the air of the Island, and he liked being petted. "A nice little woman! a
very nice little woman!" Tom Bakewell heard him murmur to himself
according to a habit he had; and his air of rather succulent patronage as
he walked or sat beside the innocent Beauty, with his head thrown back
and a smile that seemed always to be in secret communion with his marked
abdominal prominence, showed that she was gaining part of what she played
for. Wise youths who buy their loves, are not unwilling, when opportunity
offers, to try and obtain the commodity for nothing. Examinations of her
hand, as for some occult purpose, and unctuous pattings of the same, were
not infrequent. Adrian waxed now and then Anacreontic in his compliments.
Lucy would say: "That's worse than Lord Mountfalcon."

"Better English than the noble lord deigns to employ--allow that?" quoth
Adrian.

"He is very kind," said Lucy.

"To all, save to our noble vernacular," added Adrian. "He seems to scent
a rival to his dignity there."

It may be that Adrian scented a rival to his lymphatic emotions.

"We are at our ease here in excellent society," he wrote to Lady
Blandish. "I am bound to confess that the Huron has a happy fortune, or a
superlative instinct. Blindfold he has seized upon a suitable mate. She
can look at a lord, and cook for an epicure. Besides Dr. Kitchener, she
reads and comments on The Pilgrim's Scrip. The `Love' chapter, of course,
takes her fancy. That picture of Woman, `Drawn by Reverence and coloured
by Love,' she thinks beautiful, and repeats it, tossing up pretty eyes.
Also the lover's petition: 'Give me purity to be worthy the good in her,
and grant her patience to reach the good in me.' 'Tis quite taking to
hear her lisp it. Be sure that I am repe