the words, 'Send
her away'; to which Richard replied angrily, 'It shall not be; I'll
shilly-shally no longer,--it must be done at once, I tell you, or I give
the whole thing up altogether'. They then went into the library, and I
heard no more; but the wery next day come this here hidentical chap--he
arrived in style too--britzska and post-horses. Oh! he's a reg'lar
swell, you may depend; he looks something like a Spaniard, a
foreigneering style of physiography, only he ain't so swarthy."

~393~~ "Don't you know his name?" inquired I.

"They call him Mr. Fleming, but I don't believe that's his right name;
leastways he had a letter come directed different, but I can't remember
what it was: it was either--let me see--either a hess or a W; I think it
was a hess, but I can't say for certain."

"But what has all this to do with Miss Saville?" asked I impatiently.

"Fair and easy; fair and easy; I'm a-coming to her direc'ly--the world
was not made in a day; you'll know sooner than you likes, I expects, now
sir. Well, I didn't fancy him from the first; he looks more like Saytin
himself than any Christian as ever I set eyes on, except Boneypart,
which, being a Frenchman and a henemy, was not so much to be wondered
at: however, he was wery quiet and civil, and purlite to Miss Clara, and
said wery little to her, while Muster Richard and the old un was by, and
she seemed rather to choose to talk to him, as I thought, innocent-like,
to avoid the t'other one; but afore long they got quite friends
together, and I soon see that he meant business, and no mistake. He's as
hartful and deep as Garrick; and there ain't no means of inweigling and
coming over a woman as he don't try on her: ay, and he's a clever chap,
too; he don't attempt to hurry the thing; he's wery respectful and
attentive, and seems to want to show her the difference between his
manners and Muster Richard's--not worreting her like; and he says sharp
things to make Muster Richard look like a fool before her. I can't help
larfing to mysolf sometimes to hear him,--Muster Dickey's met his match
at last."

"And how does Cumberland brook such interference?"

"Why, that's what I can't make out; he don't like it, that's clear, for
I have seen him turn pale with rage; but he seems afraid to quarrel
with him, somehow. If ever he says a sharp word, Mr. Fleming gives him
a scowling look with his wicked eyes, and Muster Richard shuts up
direc'ly."

"And you fancy Miss Saville