denying the devil had put me in a tweak—but who the devil are you, sir?”
On the verge of introducing himself, Neal recalled the innkeeper’s fascinated presence, and thought he had better not. Rustics were incurable gossips. It would benefit neither of them to have this day’s business noised around the countryside. “A friend,” he sad repressively. “Sent on your behalf by, er, a representative of the gentleman to whom your circumstances must be of the utmost import.”
“Ah!” Delilah beamed. “I had begun to despair of his interest, which was a very melancholy thought. Still, I would have somehow made a recover, even though I was in a sad fix. Have you come to take me away? It is very good of you to trouble yourself.”
The innkeeper, at this point, was prompted by his outraged conscience to try and prevent so very young a lass from gleefully embarking upon a depraved career. He begged her to reconsider; he reminded her that she had applied to him for the post of chambermaid. During this interval Johann recovered his senses, observed himself outnumbered, and slunk away.
“That is very kind,” responded Delilah, as Neal stared. “But you must see that this gentleman’s offer will suit me much better. With my fa—or this gentleman’s friend— I shall at least have money for common necessaries, and I shall probably manage to enjoy myself. Who knows, I may even be able to form an eligible connection, and I have decided that I should like that of all things, for then perfect blocks like Johann could not behave scaly to me.” She regarded Neal. “Well, sir, shall be depart?”
The innkeeper was utterly aghast at this proof of how very wrongheaded young women could be; and he was very much shocked that so very young a lady should be so deadened to virtue. He said so, most censoriously.
“What the deuce,” inquired Delilah, “has prompted you to fuss? Why should you find my longing for a comfortable existence—which isn’t at all surprising considering the extreme discomfort of my existence for the past five years—much too dreadful to contemplate?”
The innkeeper gaped at Delilah, who looked—especially in her current rumpled condition—a great deal younger than her age. “Five years!” he echoed, faintly.
Neal, at last made aware of the innkeeper’s misapprehensions, desperately strove to restrain an inclination to laugh out loud. He lost the struggle. Both the innkeeper and Delilah looked startled when he dissolved into mirth. Miss Mannering did not seem offended by so ungainly an exhibition, though the innkeeper patently considered it the ultimate demonstration of villainy.
“Come along, puss!” said Neal, when he had regained his breath. “My carriage is waiting. Have you anything that you wish to bring with you?”
Delilah anticipated battle. “Only Caliban,” she retorted, a martial gleam in her eye.
Neal regarded the dog, who on hearing his name mentioned had opened both eyes, and contemplated Sandor’s probable reaction to this misbegotten beast. Then he contemplated Sandor’s probable reaction to his newly acquired ward. “Very well!” he said, with the utmost good cheer.
Edwina had grown very weary of waiting in the cabriolet—so weary, in fact, that she uncharitably suspected her young cousin had ignobly taken advantage of an opportunity to indulge in the gentlemanly pastime known as shooting the cat. Therefore, it was with some relief that she espied a small procession making its way toward the cabriolet.
That relief was not long-lived. Neal looked so much unlike himself—that merry expression had not been glimpsed on Neal’s handsome features, now that Edwina considered it, for the past several weeks—that she thought he was in truth cast-away; but her attention was primarily for the ragamuffin who trailed along behind him, clutching to her by means of a rope a very hideous hound. Surely this could not be the Mannering heiress! “Merciful powers!” uttered
On the verge of introducing himself, Neal recalled the innkeeper’s fascinated presence, and thought he had better not. Rustics were incurable gossips. It would benefit neither of them to have this day’s business noised around the countryside. “A friend,” he sad repressively. “Sent on your behalf by, er, a representative of the gentleman to whom your circumstances must be of the utmost import.”
“Ah!” Delilah beamed. “I had begun to despair of his interest, which was a very melancholy thought. Still, I would have somehow made a recover, even though I was in a sad fix. Have you come to take me away? It is very good of you to trouble yourself.”
The innkeeper, at this point, was prompted by his outraged conscience to try and prevent so very young a lass from gleefully embarking upon a depraved career. He begged her to reconsider; he reminded her that she had applied to him for the post of chambermaid. During this interval Johann recovered his senses, observed himself outnumbered, and slunk away.
“That is very kind,” responded Delilah, as Neal stared. “But you must see that this gentleman’s offer will suit me much better. With my fa—or this gentleman’s friend— I shall at least have money for common necessaries, and I shall probably manage to enjoy myself. Who knows, I may even be able to form an eligible connection, and I have decided that I should like that of all things, for then perfect blocks like Johann could not behave scaly to me.” She regarded Neal. “Well, sir, shall be depart?”
The innkeeper was utterly aghast at this proof of how very wrongheaded young women could be; and he was very much shocked that so very young a lady should be so deadened to virtue. He said so, most censoriously.
“What the deuce,” inquired Delilah, “has prompted you to fuss? Why should you find my longing for a comfortable existence—which isn’t at all surprising considering the extreme discomfort of my existence for the past five years—much too dreadful to contemplate?”
The innkeeper gaped at Delilah, who looked—especially in her current rumpled condition—a great deal younger than her age. “Five years!” he echoed, faintly.
Neal, at last made aware of the innkeeper’s misapprehensions, desperately strove to restrain an inclination to laugh out loud. He lost the struggle. Both the innkeeper and Delilah looked startled when he dissolved into mirth. Miss Mannering did not seem offended by so ungainly an exhibition, though the innkeeper patently considered it the ultimate demonstration of villainy.
“Come along, puss!” said Neal, when he had regained his breath. “My carriage is waiting. Have you anything that you wish to bring with you?”
Delilah anticipated battle. “Only Caliban,” she retorted, a martial gleam in her eye.
Neal regarded the dog, who on hearing his name mentioned had opened both eyes, and contemplated Sandor’s probable reaction to this misbegotten beast. Then he contemplated Sandor’s probable reaction to his newly acquired ward. “Very well!” he said, with the utmost good cheer.
Edwina had grown very weary of waiting in the cabriolet—so weary, in fact, that she uncharitably suspected her young cousin had ignobly taken advantage of an opportunity to indulge in the gentlemanly pastime known as shooting the cat. Therefore, it was with some relief that she espied a small procession making its way toward the cabriolet.
That relief was not long-lived. Neal looked so much unlike himself—that merry expression had not been glimpsed on Neal’s handsome features, now that Edwina considered it, for the past several weeks—that she thought he was in truth cast-away; but her attention was primarily for the ragamuffin who trailed along behind him, clutching to her by means of a rope a very hideous hound. Surely this could not be the Mannering heiress! “Merciful powers!” uttered
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