t was now Lady Mary's turn to show confusion at the old termagant's
talk, and she coloured as red as a sunset on the coast of Kerry. I
forgave the old hag her discourteous appellation of "baboon" because
of the joyful intimation she gave me through the door that Lady Mary
was not to be trusted when I was near by. My father used to say that
if you are present when an embarrassment comes to a lady it is well
not to notice it, else the embarrassment will be transferred to
yourself. Remembering this, I pretended not to see Lady Mary's flaming
cheeks, and, begging her pardon, walked up the room and picked from
the corner the bundle of papers which had, somehow or other come
there, whether kicked or not. I came back to where she was standing
and offered them to her most respectfully, as if they, and not
herself, were the subject of discussion.

"Hush," said Lady Mary in a whisper; "sit down yonder and see how long
you can keep quiet."

She pointed to a chair that stood beside a beautifully polished table
of foreign wood, the like of which I had never seen before, and I,
wishing very much to please her, sat down where she told me and placed
the bundle of papers on the table. Lady Mary tiptoed over, as
light-footed as a canary-bird, and sat down on the opposite side of
the table, resting her elbows on the polished wood, and, with her chin
in her hands, gazed across at me, and a most bewildering scrutiny I
found it, rendering it difficult for me to keep quiet and seated, as
she had requested. In a minute or two we heard the crunch of wheels on
the gravel in front, then the carriage drove off, and the big gates
clanked together.

Still Lady Mary poured the sunshine of her eyes upon me, and I hope
and trust she found me a presentable young man, for under the warmth
of her look my heart began to bubble up like a pot of potatoes on a
strong fire.

"You make me a present of the papers, then?" said Lady Mary at last.

"Indeed and I do, and of myself as well, if you'll have me. And this
latter is a thing I've been trying to say to you every time I met you,
Mary acushla, and no sooner do the words come to my lips than some
doddering fool interrupts us; but now, my darling, we are alone
together, in that lover's paradise which is always typified by a
locked door, and at last I can say the things--"

Just here, as I mentioned the word "door," there came a rap at it, and
Lady Mary started as if some one had fired a gun.

"Your lad