profession?--or the son of a
gallant Captain Winnington? If a gallant Captain Winnington could do
nothing more than gallant, he did not deserve the name; it was a piece
of fudge to cheat foolish women with. Yes; he would have the law of the
fellow if he buzzed about his niece; he would have the law of Clary if
she encouraged him.

What could Clary do? she had been taught to look up to Uncle Barnet;
she had seen polite society under his wife's wing; she had obeyed him at
once as her Mentor and her Maecenas--as her father and prime-minister.
She cried and kissed his hand, and promised not to forget her position,
and to be a good girl; and as she was not engaged to Sam Winnington, and
did not know for certain that he would return to Redwater for the
grass-mowing or the hop-gathering, she thought she might be free to
promise also that she would not see him again with her will. Of course,
she meant to keep her word if she might; but there are two at a
bargain-making: and observe, she said "with her will;" she made no
reference to Sam Winnington's pleasure. And yet, arrogant as Clary could
be on her worst side, she had found her own intentions and purposes
knocked down by Sam Winnington's determinations before now.

When Sam Winnington did come down next, Clary had such honour and
spirit, that she ordered the door to be shut in his face; but then she
cried far more bitterly than she had done to Uncle Barnet, in the same
hall where Sam had painted her and jested with her; and somehow her
affliction reached Sam's ears, living in a little place like Redwater at
the "Rod and Fly" for several days on end.

At last another spice entered into the dish; another puppet appeared on
the boards, and increased the disorder of the former puppets. The county
member did turn up. Clary was a prophet: he came on a visit to his
cousin the Justice, and was struck with tall, red and white, and
large-eyed Clary; he furbished up an introduction, and offered her the
most marked attention.

Mistress Clarissa was in ecstasy, so her gossips declared, and so she
almost persuaded herself, even after she had certain drawbacks to her
pleasure, and certain cares intruding upon her exultation; after she was
again harassed and pestered with the inconvenient resuscitation of that
incorrigible little plain, vain portrait painter, Sam Winnington. He was
plain--he had not the county member's Roman nose; and he was vain--Clary
had already mimicked the fling o