“By whom?”

“By some one who has influence with Lucy—­her nearest relation, Mr. Fountain.”

“What! is he nearer to her than you are?”

“Certainly; and she is fond of him to infatuation.  One day I did but hint that selfishness entered into his character (he is eaten up with it), and that he told fibs; Mr. Hardie, she turned round on me like a tigress—­Oh, how she made me cry!”

The keen hand, Hardie, smiled satirically, and after a pause answered with consummate coolness:  “I believe thus much, that she loves her uncle, and that his influence, exerted unscrupulously—­”

“Which it will be.  He may be strong enough to spoil us, even though he should not be able to carry his own point; now trust me, my dear friend, Lucy’s preference is clearly for you, but I know the weakness of my own sex, and, above all, I know Lucy Fountain.  A mouse can help a lion in a matter of small threads, too small for his nobler and grander wisdom to see.  Let me be your mouse for once.”  The little woman caught the great man with the everlasting hook, and the discussion ended in “claw me and I will claw thee,” and in the mutual self-complacency that follows that arrangement. Vide “Blackwood,” passim.

Mr. H.  “I really think she would accept me if I offered to-day; but I have so high an opinion of your sagacity and friendship for me, madam, that I will defer my judgment to yours.  I must, however, make one condition, that you will not displace my plan without suggesting a distinct course of action for me to adopt in its place.”

This smooth proposal, made quietly but with twinkling eye, would have shut the mouth of nine advisers in ten, but it found the Bazalgette prepared.

“Oh, the pleasure of having a man of ability to deal with!” cried she, with enthusiasm.  “This is my advice, then:  stay Mr. Fountain out.  He must go in a day or two.  His time is up, and I will drop a hint of fresh visitors expected.  When he is gone, warm by degrees, and offer yourself either in person, or through Bazalgette, or me.”

“In person, then, certainly.  Of all foibles, employing another pair of eyes, another tongue, another person to make love for one is surely the silliest.”

“I am quite of your opinion,” cried the lady, with a hearty laugh.

Mr. Fountain.  “So you are satisfied with the state of things?”

Mr. Talboys.  “Yes, I think I have beaten the sailor out of the field.”

“Well, but—­this Hardie?”

“Hardie! a shopkeeper.  I don’t fear him.”

“In that case, why not propose?  I have been doing the preliminaries—­sounding your praises.”

Mr. Talboys (tyrannically).  “I propose next Saturday.”

Mr. Fountain.  “Very well.”

Talboys.  “In the boat.”

“In the boat?  What boat?  There’s no boat.”

“I have asked her to sail with me from ——­ in a boat; there is a very nice little lugger-rigged one.  I am having the seats padded and stuffed and lined, and an awning put up, and the boat painted white and gold.”