Doctor Belper said, 'My dear Lady Walham' (it was
before my grandpapa's death), 'has Miss Anne a genius for sewing buttons
and making puddens?'--puddens he pronounced it. Goodnight, my own love.
Blessings, blessings, on my Ethel!"

The Colonel from his balcony saw the slim figure of the retreating girl,
and looked fondly after her: and as the smoke of his cigar floated in
the air, he formed a fine castle in it, whereof Clive was lord, and that
pretty Ethel, lady. "What a frank, generous, bright young creature
is yonder!" thought he. "How cheery and gay she is; how good to Miss
Honeyman, to whom she behaved with just the respect that was the old
lady's due--how affectionate with her brothers and sisters! What a sweet
voice she has! What a pretty little white hand it is! When she gave
it me, it looked like a little white bird lying in mine. I must wear
gloves, by Jove I must, and my coat is old-fashioned, as Binnie says;
what a fine match might be made between that child and Clive! She
reminds me of a pair of eyes I haven't seen these forty years. I would
like to have Clive married to her; to see him out of the scrapes and
dangers that young fellows encounter, and safe with such a sweet girl as
that. If God had so willed it, I might have been happy myself, and could
have made a woman happy. But the Fates were against me. I should like to
see Clive happy, and then say Nunc dimittis. I shan't want anything more
to-night, Kean, and you can go to bed."

"Thank you, Colonel," says Kean, who enters, having prepared his
master's bedchamber, and is retiring when the Colonel calls after him:

"I say, Kean, is that blue coat of mine very old?"

"Uncommon white about the seams, Colonel," says the man.

"Is it older than other people's coats?"--Kean is obliged gravely to
confess that the Colonel's coat is very queer.

"Get me another coat, then--see that I don't do anything or wear
anything unusual. I have been so long out of Europe, that I don't know
the customs here, and am not above learning."

Kean retires, vowing that his master is an old trump; which opinion
he had already expressed to Mr. Kuhn, Lady Hanne's man, over a long
potation which those two gentlemen had taken together. And, as all of
us, in one way or another, are subject to this domestic criticism, from
which not the most exalted can escape, I say, lucky is the man whose
servants speak well of him.

CHAPTER XVI. In which Mr. Sherrick lets his House in