m this house. She has cross-examined Mrs.
Inchbare; she has written to your steward for the date of your arrival
at your estate; she has done every thing, calculated every thing, and
foreseen every thing--except my excellent temper. The one mistake she
has made, is in thinking she could get the better of _that._ No, my dear
boy! My trump card is my temper. I keep it in my hand, Arnold--I keep it
in my hand!"
The next course came in--and there was an end of the subject again.
Sir Patrick enjoyed his mutton, and entered on a long and interesting
narrative of the history of some rare white Burgundy on the table
imported by himself. Arnold resolutely resumed the discussion with the
departure of the mutton.
"It seems to be a dead lock," he said.
"No slang!" retorted Sir Patrick.
"For Heaven's sake, Sir, consider my anxiety, and tell me what you
propose to do!"
"I propose to take you to London with me to-morrow, on this
condition--that you promise me, on your word of honor, not to attempt to
see your wife before Saturday next."
"I shall see her then?"
"If you give me your promise."
"I do! I do!"
The next course came in. Sir Patrick entered on the question of the
merits of the partridge, viewed as an eatable bird, "By himself,
Arnold--plainly roasted, and tested on his own merits--an overrated
bird. Being too fond of shooting him in this country, we become too fond
of eating him next. Properly understood, he is a vehicle for sauce and
truffles--nothing more. Or no--that is hardly doing him justice. I am
bound to add that he is honorably associated with the famous French
receipt for cooking an olive. Do you know it?"
There was an end of the bird; there was an end of the jelly. Arnold got
his next chance--and took it.
"What is to be done in London to-morrow?" he asked.
"To-morrow," answered Sir Patrick, "is a memorable day in our calendar.
To-morrow is Tuesday--the day on which I am to see Miss Silvester."
Arnold set down the glass of wine which he was just raising to his lips.
"After what has happened," he said, "I can hardly bear to hear her name
mentioned. Miss Silvester has parted me from my wife."
"Miss Silvester may atone for that, Arnold, by uniting you again."
"She has been the ruin of me so far."
"She may be the salvation of you yet."
The cheese came in; and Sir Patrick returned to the Art of Cookery.
"Do you know the receipt for cooking an olive, Arnold?"
"No."
"What _do
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