have complied with her request, but Mrs. Barton forbade him. Alice, who
had understood, found herself obliged to say that she had not
understood, which little fib begot a little annoyance in her against her
mother; and Milord, as if he thought that he had been guilty of a slight
indiscretion, said, addressing himself to both girls: '_Gardez bien vos
illusions, mon enfant, car les illusions sont le miroir de l'amour.'_

'Ah! _mais il ne faut pas couvrir trop l'abîme avec des fleurs_,' said
Mrs. Barton, as a sailor from his point of vantage might cry, 'Rocks
ahead!'

Arthur only joined occasionally in the conversation; he gazed long and
ardently on his daughter, and then sketched with his thumb-nail on the
cloth, and when they arose from the table, Mrs. Barton said:

'Now, now, I am not going to allow you gentlemen to spend any more time
over your wine. This is our first evening together; come into the
drawing-room with us, and we shall have some music.'

Like most men of an unevenly balanced mind, Arthur loved an eccentric
costume, and soon after he appeared in a long-tasselled cap and a
strangely coloured smoking jacket; he wore a pair of high-heeled
brocaded slippers, and, twanging a guitar, hummed to himself
plaintively. Then, when he thought he had been sufficiently admired, he
sang _A che la morte, Il Balen_, and several other Italian airs, in
which frequent allusion was made to the inconstancy of woman's and the
truth of man's affection. At every pause in the music these sentiments
were laughingly contested by Mrs. Barton. She appealed to Milord. He
never had had anything to complain of. Was it not well known that the
poor woman had been only too true to him? Finally, it was arranged there