“Ay, well, that’s not bad; a proper distinction.  I tell you what, Woodward, you are a clever fellow; and I’m not sure but I’ll advocate your cause with Tom there.  Tom, he tells me he is coming to court you, and he says he doesn’t care a fig about either of us, provided he could secure your fortune.  Ay, and, what’s more, he says that if you and he are married, he hopes it will be in the dark.  What do you think of that now?”

Miss Riddle did not blush, nor affect a burst of indignation, but she said what pleased both Woodward and his mother far better.

“Well, uncle,” she replied, calmly, “even if he did say so, I believe he only expressed in words what most, if not all, of my former lovers actually felt, but were too cautious to acknowledge.”

“I trust, Miss Eiddle,” said Harry, smiling graciously, “that I am neither so silly nor so stupid as to defend a jest by anything like a serious apology.  You will also be pleased to recollect that, as an argument for my success, I admitted two murders, half a dozen intrigues, and the lively prospect of being hanged.  The deuce is in it, if these are not strong qualifications in a lover, especially in a lover of yours, Miss Riddle.”

The reader sees that the peer was anything but a match for Woodward, who contrived, and with perfect success, to turn all his jocular attacks to his own account.

Miss Riddle smiled, for the truth was that Harry began to rise rapidly in her good opinion.  His sprightliness was gentlemanly and agreeable, and he contrived, besides, to assume the look and air of a man who only indulged in it in compliment to her uncle, and, of course, indirectly to herself, with whom, it was but natural, he should hope to make him an advocate.  Still the expression of his countenance, as he managed it, appeared to her to be that of a profound and serious thinker—­one whose feelings, when engaged, were likely to retain a strong hold of his heart.  That he should model his features into such an expression is by no means strange, when we reflect with what success hypocrisy can stamp upon them all those traits of character for which she wishes to get credit from the world.

“Come, Tom,” said his lordship, “it’s time for luncheon; we can’t allow our friends to go without refreshments.  I say, Woodward, I’m a hospitable old fellow; did you ever know that before?”

“I have often heard it, my lord,” replied the other, “and I hope to have still better proof of it.”  This was uttered with a significant, but respectful glance, at the niece, who was by no means displeased at it.

“Ay! ay!” said his lordship, laughing, “the proof of the pudding is in the eating.  Well, you shall have an opportunity, and soon, too; you appear to be a blunt, honest fellow; and hang me but I like you.”

Miss Riddle now went out to order in the refreshments, but not without feeling it strange how her uncle and herself should each contemplate Woodward’s character in so different a light—­the uncle looking upon him as a blunt, honest fellow, whilst to her he appeared as a man of sense, and a perfect gentleman Such, however, was the depth of his hypocrisy, that he succeeded at once in pleasing both, and in deceiving both.