He then seemed to make up his mind to conceal
nothing. He told us of your artful delays, your slow-paced coach
crawling up-hill; of your efforts to entertain Mrs. Shortridge's
company, and keep him employed as interpreter; your songs and your
care to prolong the amusements of the evening; your affected fears at
riding home in your old coach with your new postillion. He described
your supper-party, and repeated your entertaining conversation, your
libel on Moodie, gone drunk to bed, and your satire on Sir Rowland and
the rest of us; your well-acted terror of robbers, and your triumph
over him when you thought the game was won. If you had not been
over-confident and too hasty, Mabel, we would have had L'Isle on the
hip."
"Was that _all_ he told you?" asked Lady Mabel.
"Why? Was there any thing more to tell?" inquired her father.
Lady Mabel drew a deep, long breath. "Then he said nothing about
my--my singing--'Constant my heart' to him?"
"How!" exclaimed Lord Strathern. "Did you sing 'Constant my heart'
_at_ him?"
"How could I help it, papa, it came in so pat to the purpose?"
"The devil it did! It seems you did not mean to fail, by under acting
your part.
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