ill at the remembrance of his voice--drone, drone, drone, in my
ear--while he sat beside me, prosing away by the half-hour together, and
beguiling himself with the notion that he was improving my mind by useful
information, or impressing his dogmas upon me and reforming my errors of
judgment, or perhaps that he was talking down to my level, and amusing me
with entertaining discourse. Yet he was a decent man enough in the main,
I daresay; and if he had kept his distance, I never would have hated him.
As it was, it was almost impossible to help it, for he not only bothered
me with the infliction of his own presence, but he kept me from the
enjoyment of more agreeable society.

One night, however, at a ball, he had been more than usually tormenting,
and my patience was quite exhausted. It appeared as if the whole evening
was fated to be insupportable: I had just had one dance with an
empty-headed coxcomb, and then Mr. Boarham had come upon me and seemed
determined to cling to me for the rest of the night. He never danced
himself, and there he sat, poking his head in my face, and impressing all
beholders with the idea that he was a confirmed, acknowledged lover; my
aunt looking complacently on all the time, and wishing him God-speed. In
vain I attempted to drive him away by giving a loose to my exasperated
feelings, even to positive rudeness: nothing could convince him that his
presence was disagreeable. Sullen silence was taken for rapt attention,
and gave him greater room to talk; sharp answers were received as smart
sallies of girlish vivacity, that only required an indulgent rebuke; and
flat contradictions were but as oil to the flames, calling forth new
strains of argument to support his dogmas, and bringing down upon me
endless floods of reasoning to overwhelm me with conviction.

But there was one present who seemed to have a better appreciation of my
frame of mind. A gentleman stood by, who had been watching our
conference for some time, evidently much amused at my companion's
remorseless pertinacity and my manifest annoyance, and laughing to
himself at the asperity and uncompromising spirit of my replies. At
length, however, he withdrew, and went to the lady of the house,
apparently for the purpose of asking an introduction to me, for, shortly
after, they both came up, and she introduced him as Mr. Huntingdon, the
son of a late friend of my uncle's. He asked me to dance. I gladly
consented, of course; and