"Aunt Belinda," said Betty, turning her back and staring out through the open lattice, "there are times when I wonder I don't--bite you!"

"He's so much your elder, Betty!"

"And so much my younger, aunt--in some ways, he's a very child! But suppose I do marry him, what then, aunt?"

"Marry him! Heaven above--marry Major d'Arcy? Betty, are you mad?

You so young and giddy, he so--so mature and grave----"

"You never saw him climb a wall, aunt!"

"Old enough to be your father, girl! So very sober and reserved! So very serious and quiet----"

"You haven't seen him in his plum-coloured velvet, aunt!"

"But you--O Bet, you never really--love him!"

"Of--course--not! What has love to do with marriage, dear aunt?

Love-marriages are so unmodish--'tis like plough-boy and dairy-wench--hugging and kissing--faugh, so vulgar and nauseous! Nay, aunt, I desire a marriage _a la mode_: 'Good-morrow to your ladyship, I trust your ladyship slept well?' A solemn bow, a kiss upon one extreme finger-tip!' O, excellently, sir, I hope you the same.' A smile and gracious curtsey--and so to breakfast. Now Major d'Arcy is a gentleman, rich, sufficiently handsome, and once a husband would be fairly easy to manage! Indeed I might do worse, aunt!"

"But so much--ah, so very much better, girl. There is the Duke of Nairn----"

"A drunken old reprobate! Charles told me that once, being more tipsy than usual he----"

"Hush, miss! He worshipped you. Then there is His Grace of Hawcastle----"

"An addle-pated popinjay!"

"Fie, Betty! Then there is Lord Alvaston, the Marquis, Viscount Merivale and the rest----"

"Aye, but I can't wed 'em all, aunt, so will I wed none!"

"Lud child, here's scandalous talk! But O Betty, what--what of love?"

"True, dear aunt--what?"

"Ah, child, 'tis fair woman's crowning joy and strong man's consolation sweet----

"'Tis a disease and megrim o' the mind, aunt, the which, I do thank heaven, hath ne'er yet come anigh me----"

"Aye but it will, Betty, it will!"

"Then with pill and purge and bolus I will drive it hence again."

"Nay child," sighed the Lady Belinda, as her niece arose, "talk how you will, but when love comes to thee, as come he will, why then, Ah me!

what with thy ardent temperament, thy headstrong spirits, thy bustling health then--O then shall I tremble for thee!"

"Nay, prithee spare yourself, dear aunt, I can tremble for myself when needful." Saying which my lady went out into the garden.

Very slowly she went, her head bowed, her bright eyes grave and troubled; once she stopped to frown at a hollyhock and once to cull a rose only to drop it all unnoticed ere she had gone a dozen yards.

Thus thoughtful and preoccupied she came to that secluded corner of her garden where, against a certain wall a ladder stood invitingly: mounting forthwith, she perched herself upon the broad coping and glanced down into the Major's orchard. The hutch-like sentry-box showed deserted but at the foot of the wall and almost immediately below her, Sergeant Zebedee stooped above a new-turned border of earth, busily engaged with a foot-rule. Lady Betty reached softly over and plucking an apricot, dropped it with remarkable accuracy into the very middle of the Sergeant's trim wig.

"_Sacre nom!_" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, and starting erect, glanced up into my lady's serene blue eyes.

"'Tis Sergeant Zebedee, I think?" she enquired gravely.

The Sergeant saluted and stood at attention:

"I was so baptised, my lady, and an uncommon awk'ard name I've found it."

"Nay, 'tis a quaint name and suits you. If you have any children----"

"Chil----!" The Sergeant gasped.

"They should be called James and John, of course! So the poor Major pa.s.sed a sleepless night, did he, Sergeant?"

"O!" said the Sergeant, staring, "Did he, mam?"

"Well, hasn't he?"

"Not as I know of, my lady."

"And when will he come home?"

"Home?" repeated the Sergeant, scratching his wig, "Why, mam, he has, I mean he hasn't, him not having been out, d'ye see."

"He must be a great trial and worry to live with, Sergeant?"

"No, my lady, no--except when he don't take his rations reg'lar--food and drink, d'ye see."

"Ah, doth his appet.i.te languish of late?"

"Never was better, mam! He do seem to grow younger and brisker every day."

"Indeed, 'tis pity he's so wild!"

"Wild, mam? The Major----?"

"So gay, so bold and audacious." The Sergeant could only stare. "His wife will lead a sorry life I fear, poor soul!"

The Sergeant fell back a step opening eyes and mouth together:

"Zooks!" he muttered, "axing your ladyship's pardon but--does your ladyship mean--Zounds! Axing your pardon again, my lady, but--wife!

Does your ladyship mean to say----? Is't true, madam?"

"So 'tis said!" nodded her unblushing ladyship.

"But who, my lady, and--when?"