If such exists, think, I beseech you, O virgins—pretty, but penniless—apt for the yoke, how many chances of subjection may turn up without rushing to put your necks under it. Is the aspiring race of H.E.I.C.S. cadets extinct? Are Erin’s sons so good or so cold as not to be tempted by woman, even without the gold? Are there not soldiers still to the fore too inflammable to be trusted near an ammunition wagon? Are there not—the bonne bouche comes at last—priests and deacons? The instant a man takes orders, celibacy becomes intolerable to him. I firmly believe that half the offers made in the year throughout broad England emanate from those energetic ecclesiastics.
After all, what specimens you do pick up sometimes in your haste! If you are to lead apes, is it not better to defer the evil day as long as possible, instead of parading the animals about by your sides here on this upper earth?
My sermon is too long for the occasion—too short for the text. I close a discourse not much wiser, perhaps, than poor Wamba’s, with his “Pax vobiscum!”
Flora and Guy met with perfect composure on both sides. She did not appear to think that she had any claim upon him arising from what had passed, but it was evident that he was still the favorite, and that all others were complete “outsiders.” No betting man would have backed the field for a shilling. She waltzed with him whenever he asked her, to the utter oblivion and annihilation of previous engagements, whereat the Frenchmen chafed inexpressibly, cursing and gnashing their teeth when, after the ball was over, they went forth into the outer darkness. Nothing but Livingstone’s extraordinary reputation in the shooting-galleries, added to a certain ferocity of demeanor which had become habitual to him of late, saved him from more than one serious quarrel.
He took it all as a matter of course. Flora amused him certainly; she sympathized with his tastes, and perhaps flattered his vanity. For instance, she always took an interest in his fortunes at play, watching and sometimes backing him at ecarte, and often inquiring the next morning how the battle had gone in her absence at the Board of Green Cloth.
Once when an unfortunate adorer—in bitterness of spirit at being thrown over twice in one evening—hinted at some of the intrigues which had made Guy’s name unenviably notorious (play was not the guiltiest of his distractions to thoughts that would come back), Miss Bellasys only smiled haughtily, and did not even deign to betray any curiosity on the subject. Those ephemeral passions were not the rivals she feared.
Her mother all this time was very uncomfortable. Though herself perfectly innocent of any connivance in Flora’s schemes, she was afflicted with a perpetual indistinct sort of remorse. Once or twice, I believe, she did venture on a remonstrance, but she was put down decisively, and did not try it again.