o
her, but restlessly, and, as it seemed, with a wandering mind; and
afterwards he conversed, with an affectation of interest--it was only
that--Aunt Becky, who observed him with some curiosity, thought--for a
few minutes with Lilias Walsingham; and afterwards he talked with an
effort, and so much animation and such good acceptance [though it was
plain, Aunt Becky said, that he did not listen to one word she said,] to
the fair Magnolia, that O'Flaherty had serious thoughts of
horse-whipping him when the festivities were over--for, as he purposed
informing him, his 'ungentlemanlike intherfarence.'

'He has got his quietus,' thought Aunt Becky, with triumph; 'this brisk,
laughing carriage, and heightened colour, a woman of experience can see
through at a glance.'

Yes, all this frisking and skipping is but the hypocrisy of bleeding
vanity--_haeret lateri_--they are just the flush, wriggle, and hysterics
of suppressed torture.

Then came her niece, cold and stately, with steady eye and a slight
flush, and altogether the air of the conscientious young matron who has
returned from the nursery, having there administered the discipline; and
so she sat down beside her aunt, serene and silent, and, the little glow
passed away, pale and still.

'Well, he _has_ spoken?' said her aunt to her, in a sharp aside.

'Yes,' answered the young lady, icily.

'And has had his answer?'

'Yes--and I beg, Aunt Rebecca, the subject may be allowed to drop.' The
young lady's eyes encountered her aunt's so directly and were so fully
charged with the genuine Chattesworth lightning, that Miss Rebecca,
unused to such demonstrations, averted hers, and with a slight sarcastic
inclination, and, 'Oh! your servant, young lady,' beckoning with her fan
grandly to little Puddock, who was hovering with other designs in the
vicinity, and taking his arm, though he was not forgiven, but only
employed--a distinction often made by good Queen Elizabeth--marched to
the marquee, where, it was soon evident, the plump lieutenant was busy
in commending, according to their merits, the best bits of the best
_plats_ on the table.

'So dear Aunt Becky has forgiven Puddock,' said Devereux, who was
sauntering up to the tent between O'Flaherty and Cluffe, and little
suspecting that he was descanting upon the intended Mrs. Cluffe--'and
they are celebrating the reconciliation over a jelly and a pupton. I
love Aunt Rebecca, I tell you--I don't know what we should do wit