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world, that no one woman can monopolize it. It is a tolerably fair
handicap, on the whole; and even the second horse may land a very
satisfactory stake. Never was night when the moon shone so dazzlingly as
to blind us to the brilliancy of a star or two beside. Bothwell, and
Chatelet, and Rizzio were not the only lovestricken ones in Holyrood.
Had the Queen of Scots been thrice as charming, glances, and sighs, and
words enough would still have been found to satisfy the most exacting of
her Maries.
Fanny Molyneux was a capital specimen of the thoroughpaced partisan.
She was terribly indignant at dinner on that first day of their meeting,
when Major Keene would not endorse _all_ her raptures about her
favorite. He assented to every thing, certainly; but though his
approbation was decided it was perfectly calm. He intrenched himself
behind his natural and acquired _sangfroid_, and the fair assailant
could not force those lines.
Don't be unreasonable, Royston said at last. As Macdonough always
says when he has lost the first two rubbers, 'the night is young and
drink is plenty.' Admiration will develop itself if you only give it
time. I have serious thoughts already of adding another to the many
little poems that must have been written about Miss Tresilyan. Shall I
send it to the 'United Service Gazette?' It would be a great credit to
our branch of the profession. No dragoon has published a rhyme since
Lovelace, I believe. I've got as far as the first line:
Ah, Cecil! hide those eyes of blue.
I think I've heard something very like that before, Fanny answered,
laughing. She deserves a prettier compliment than a _rechauffe_.
Have you heard it before? Well, I shouldn't wonder. You don't expect
one to be original and enthusiastic at the same moment, when both are
out of one's line? I own it, though. Your princess merits all the
vassalage she has foundbetter than she will meet with hereif only
for the perfection of her costume. That _is_ a triumph. Honor to the
artist who built her hat. I drink to him now, and I wish the Burgundy
were worthier of the toast. (Hal, this Corton does not improve.) I
should advise you to secure the address of her _bottier_. You know her
well enough to ask for it, perhaps? It must be a secret.
Then you have not found out how very clever she is?
Pardon me, was the reply; I can imagine Miss Tresilyan perfectly well
educated; so well, that she might dispense with carrying about a living
voucher in the shape of that dreadful _exinstitutrice_. I never knew
what makes very nice women cling so to very disagreeable governesses.
Perhaps there is a satisfaction in patronizing where you have been
ruled, and in conferring favors where you have only received
'impositions'a pleasant consciousness of returning good for evil.

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