old fellow, did you?"

"Don't make a lark of me, hang it, Poyntz," said Foker, turning red,
and with tears almost in his eyes, "you know what I mean: it's those
what's-his-names--in Homer, you know. I never said I was a good
scholar."

"And nobody ever said it of you, my boy," Mr. Poyntz remarked, and Foker
striking spurs into his pony, cantered away down Rotten Row, his mind
agitated with various emotions, ambitions, mortifications. He was sorry
that he had not been good at his books in early life--that he might
have cut out all those chaps who were about her, and who talked the
languages, and wrote poetry, and painted pictures in her album, and--and
that--"What am I," thought little Foker, "compared to her? She's all
soul, she is, and can write poetry or compose music, as easy as I could
drink a glass of beer. Beer?--damme, that's all I'm fit for, is beer. I
am a poor, ignorant little beggar, good for nothing but Foker's Entire.
I misspent my youth, and used to get the chaps to do my exercises. And
what's the consequences now? Oh, Harry Foker, what a confounded little
fool you have been!"

As he made this dreary soliloquy, he had cantered out of Rotten Row into
the Park, and there was on the point of riding down a large old roomy
family carriage, of which he took no heed, when a cheery voice cried
out, "Harry, Harry!" and looking up, he beheld his aunt, the Lady
Rosherville, and two of her daughters, of whom the one who spoke was
Harry's betrothed, the Lady Ann.

He started back with a pale, scared look, as a truth about which he had
not thought during the whole day, came across him. There was his fate,
there, in the back seat of that carriage.

"What is the matter, Harry? why are you so pale? You have been raking
and smoking too much, you wicked boy," said Lady Ann.

Foker said, "How do, aunt," "How do, Ann," in a perturbed
manner--muttered something about a pressing engagement,--indeed he saw
by the Park clock that he must have been keeping his party in the drag
waiting for nearly an hour--and waved a good-bye. The little man and the
little pony were out of sight in an instant--the great carriage rolled
away. Nobody inside was very much interested about his coming or going;
the Countess being occupied with her spaniel, the Lady Lucy's thoughts
and eyes being turned upon a volume of sermons, and those of the Lady
Ann upon a new novel, which the sisters had just procured from the
library.

CHAPTER XLI.