‘As having found his way to the young lady’s good graces?’ asked Dangerfield.

‘Yes; and I conjecture you know whom I mean,’ said Aunt Rebecca.

‘Who—­pray, Madam?’ he demanded.

‘Why, Lieutenant Puddock,’ said Aunt Becky, again adjusting the china on the chimneypiece.

‘Eh?—­truly?—­that did not strike me,’ replied Dangerfield.

He had a disconcerting way of saying the most ordinary things, and there was a sort of latent meaning, like a half-heard echo, underrunning the surface of his talk, which sometimes made people undefinably uncomfortable; and Aunt Becky looked a little stately and flushed; but in a minute more the conversation proceeded.

’I have many regrets, Miss Chattesworth, in leaving this place.  The loss of your society—­don’t mistake me, I never flatter—­is a chief one.  Some of your views and plans interested me much.  I shall see my Lord Castlemallard sooner than I should had my wishes prospered; and I will do all in my power to engage him to give the site for the building, and stones from the quarry free; and I hope, though no longer a resident here, you will permit me to contribute fifty pounds towards the undertaking.’

’Sir, I wish there were more gentlemen of your public spirit and Christian benevolence,’ cried Aunt Becky, very cordially; ’and I have heard of all your goodness to that unhappy family of Doctor Sturk’s—­poor wretched man!’

‘A bagatelle, Madam,’ said Dangerfield, shaking his head and waving his hand slightly; ’but I hope to do them, or at least the public, a service of some importance, by bringing conviction home to the assassin who struck him down, and that in terms so clear and authentic, as will leave no room for doubt in the minds of any; and to this end I’m resolved to stick at no trifling sacrifice, and, rather than fail, I’ll drain my purse.’

‘Mon petit coquin!’ prattled the parrot in the bow-window.

‘And, Madam,’ said he, after he had risen to take his leave, ’as I before said, I’m a plain man.  I mean, so soon as I can wind my business up, to leave this place and country—­I would to-night, if I could; but less, I fear, than some days—­perhaps a week will not suffice.  When I’m gone, Madam, I beg you’ll exercise no reserve respecting the cause of my somewhat abrupt departure; I could easily make a pretext of something else; but the truth, Madam, is easiest as well as best to be told; I protracted my stay so long as hope continued.  Now my suit is ended.  I can no longer endure the place.  The remembrance of your kindness only, sweetens the bitterness of my regret, and that I shall bear with me so long, Madam, as life remains.’

And saying this, as Mr. Richardson writes, ’he bowed upon her passive hand,’ and Miss Rebecca made him a grand and gracious courtesy.

As he retreated, whom should Dominick announce but Captain Cluffe and Lieutenant Puddock.  And there was an odd smile on Mr. Dangerfield’s visage, as he slightly acknowledged them in passing, which Aunt Rebecca somehow did not like.