“Gentlemen, you hear!  Now which of you most resembles Bothwell?” cried Mr. Rochester.

“I should say the preference lies with you,” responded Colonel Dent.

“On my honour, I am much obliged to you,” was the reply.

Miss Ingram, who had now seated herself with proud grace at the piano, spreading out her snowy robes in queenly amplitude, commenced a brilliant prelude; talking meantime.  She appeared to be on her high horse to-night; both her words and her air seemed intended to excite not only the admiration, but the amazement of her auditors:  she was evidently bent on striking them as something very dashing and daring indeed.

“Oh, I am so sick of the young men of the present day!” exclaimed she, rattling away at the instrument.  “Poor, puny things, not fit to stir a step beyond papa’s park gates:  nor to go even so far without mama’s permission and guardianship!  Creatures so absorbed in care about their pretty faces, and their white hands, and their small feet; as if a man had anything to do with beauty!  As if loveliness were not the special prerogative of woman —­ her legitimate appanage and heritage!  I grant an ugly woman is a blot on the fair face of creation; but as to the gentlemen, let them be solicitous to possess only strength and valour:  let their motto be:- Hunt, shoot, and fight:  the rest is not worth a fillip.  Such should be my device, were I a man.”

“Whenever I marry,” she continued after a pause which none interrupted, “I am resolved my husband shall not be a rival, but a foil to me.  I will suffer no competitor near the throne; I shall exact an undivided homage:  his devotions shall not be shared between me and the shape he sees in his mirror.  Mr. Rochester, now sing, and I will play for you.”

“I am all obedience,” was the response.

“Here then is a Corsair-song.  Know that I doat on Corsairs; and for that reason, sing it con spirito.”

“Commands from Miss Ingram’s lips would put spirit into a mug of milk and water.”

“Take care, then:  if you don’t please me, I will shame you by showing how such things should be done.”

“That is offering a premium on incapacity:  I shall now endeavour to fail.”

“Gardez-vous en bien!  If you err wilfully, I shall devise a proportionate punishment.”

“Miss Ingram ought to be clement, for she has it in her power to inflict a chastisement beyond mortal endurance.”

“Ha! explain!” commanded the lady.

“Pardon me, madam:  no need of explanation; your own fine sense must inform you that one of your frowns would be a sufficient substitute for capital punishment.”

“Sing!” said she, and again touching the piano, she commenced an accompaniment in spirited style.