Page:Sylvester Sound the Somnambulist (1844).djvu/464

"But, of course, having dined there, I must make a call, as a matter of mere etiquette!"

"Oh, well, if that's it: ah, I didn't think of that. Then we'll both go together: we'll both go together. Now, just let me see. I have to send to my friend, Mr. Dixon, to beg of him to officiate for me to-morrow."

"Are you sure that he is not engaged?"

"A good thought: a very good thought, that. He may be."

"Shall I ride over now, and ascertain? I shall not be gone more than an hour."

"Well, now; really—now that's very kind of you. If you would, I should, indeed, esteem it a favour."

"Oh, I'll go at once!" returned Sylvester, who immediately had the horse saddled, and was off, much to the gratification of the reverend gentleman, not only because he should know whether his friend, Mr. Dixon, was or was not engaged, but because it enabled him to have an hour's private conversation with his Eleanor before he started.

Of this hour, he, of course, made the most, and, when Sylvester returned with the information that Mr. Dixon would officiate for him with pleasure, he sent for his phaeton, and, having reiterated "Good bye! God bless you!" at least twenty times, they left the cottage and drove to the Hall.

On their arrival, Howard received them with the utmost cordiality, and they sat down to lunch. Henriette—who, in Sylvester's view, looked even more lovely than she did the previous evening—presided; and at half-past eleven, Howard—having taken leave of Henriette most affectionately—entered the carriage with his friend, and they were off.

Sylvester now scarcely knew what to do. Love prompted him to linger, but propriety urged him to leave. While, however, the influences of love and propriety were struggling for the mastery, Miss Duprez gracefully expressed her belief that he had not seen the garden!

He could have blessed her—and so could Henriette—who endeavoured to conceal the tears which the departure of her father had occasioned—and, when Sylvester had acknowledged the politeness of Miss Duprez, he elegantly drew the arm of Henriette in his, while her governess opened the garden gate.

This was indeed delightful. But Sylvester was not eloquent at all! nor was Henriette eloquent! Miss Duprez ran about gaily, and gathered an infinite variety of flowers, and went into the arbour, and made a bouquet; but Sylvester and Henriette were almost silent although in a state of rapture.

"Now," said Miss Duprez, archly, having completed her task, "this is for you to take home: and, after all the pains that I have taken, I really must beg of you not to spoil it."

Sylvester smiled, and received the bouquet: and turning to Henriette, said, "This is kind; but will you not add one flower?"

The face and neck of Henriette were, in an instant, crimson!—but as Miss Duprez ran to the arbour again—she added one flower—one little flower—it was the Forget-me-not.

That Sylvester prized this above all the rest, is a fact which need not