ed to make us feel
it. The next morning a polite message came, requesting our presence in
the library, to see the grooms. My aunt (always ready with her smile,
but rarely tempted into laughing outright) did for once laugh heartily.
"It is really too ridiculous!" she said. However, she pursued her policy
of always yielding, in the first instance. We went together to the
library.

The three grooms were received in the order in which they presented
themselves for approval. Two of them bore the ineffaceable mark of the
public-house so plainly written on their villainous faces, that even
I could see it. My uncle ironically asked us to favor him with our
opinions. Lady Claudia answered with her sweetest smile: "Pardon me,
General--we are here to learn." The words were nothing; but the manner
in which they were spoken was perfect. Few men could have resisted that
gentle influence--and the General was not one of the few. He stroked his
mustache, and returned to his petticoat government. The two grooms were
dismissed.

The entry of the third and last man took me completely by surprise.

If the stranger's short coat and light trousers had not proclaimed his
vocation in life, I should have taken it for granted that there had been
some mistake, and that we were favored with a visit from a gentleman
unknown. He was between dark and light in complexion, with frank clear
blue eyes; quiet and intelligent, if appearances were to be trusted;
easy in his movements; respectful in his manner, but perfectly free
from servility. "I say!" the General blurted out, addressing my aunt
confidentially, "_he_ looks as if he would do, doesn't he?"

The appearance of the new man seemed to have had the same effect on Lady
Claudia which it had produced on me. But she got over her first feeling
of surprise sooner than I did. "You know best," she answered, with the
air of a woman who declined to trouble herself by giving an opinion.

"Step forward, my man," said the General. The groom advanced from the
door, bowed, and stopped at the foot of the table--my uncle sitting at
the head, with my aunt and myself on either side of him. The inevitable
questions began.

"What is your name?"

"Michael Bloomfield."

"Your age?"

"Twenty-six."

My aunt's want of interest in the proceedings expressed itself by a
little weary sigh. She leaned back resignedly in her chair.

The General went on with his questions: "What experience have you had as
a groom?"