Do you remember Canning and the clergyman? When the latter asked him,
"How did you like my sermon? I endeavored not to be tedious;" I always
fancy the statesman's weary, wistful look, which would have been
compassionate but for a sense of personal injury, as he answered, in his
mild voice, "And yet--_you were_."

Well, the flirtation went on its way rejoicing, to the intense amusement
of all of us, especially of Forrester, till one day his cousin came into
Guy's study, who had just returned from hunting, looking rather
frightened, like a child who has let fall a valuable piece of china--it
was only an honest man's heart that she had broken. Slowly the truth
came out; Mr. Foster had proposed to her that afternoon in the park.

We, far off in the drawing-room, heard the shrill whistle with which
Livingstone greeted the intelligence.

"You accepted him, of course?" he said.

"O Guy!" Miss Raymond answered, blushing more than ever. (I'll back a
woman against the world for expressing half a chapter by a simple
interjection; Lord Burleigh's nod is nothing to it.) "But, indeed," she
went on, "I'm very sorry about it; I never saw any one look so unhappy
before. Do you know I think I saw the tears standing in his eyes; and I
only guessed at the words when he said 'God bless you!'"

"Ah bah!" replied Guy, with his most cynical smile on his lip; "he'll
recover. Who breaks his heart in these days, especially for such little
dots of things as you? But, Bella mia, how do you think Mr. Bruce would
approve of all these innocent amusements?"