gloomy
face at her fan.

'No; but I'm so curious, I know he will, though he does not like to
speak of it; but you know, Gerty, I love a horror, and I know the
story's fearful, and I feel uncertain whether he's a man or a ghost; but
see, Aunt Rebecca and Mistress Strafford are kissing.'

'Good-night, dear Lily, and remember!' said pale Gertrude without a
smile, looking at her, for a moment, with a steadfast gaze, and then
kissing her with a hasty and earnest pressure. And Lily kissed her
again, and so they parted.

CHAPTER XXVI.

RELATING HOW THE BAND OF THE ROYAL IRISH ARTILLERY PLAYED, AND, WHILE
THE MUSIC WAS GOING ON, HOW VARIOUSLY DIFFERENT PEOPLE WERE MOVED.

Twice a week the band of the Royal Irish Artillery regaled all comers
with their music on the parade-ground by the river; and, as it was
reputed the best in Ireland, and Chapelizod was a fashionable resort,
and a very pretty village, embowered in orchards, people liked to drive
out of town on a fine autumn day like this, by way of listening, and all
the neighbours showed there, and there was quite a little fair for an
hour or two.

Mervyn, among the rest, was there, but for scarce ten minutes, and, as
usual, received little more than a distant salutation, coldly and
gravely returned, from Gertrude Chattesworth, to whom Mr. Beauchamp,
whom she remembered at the Stafford's dinner, addicted himself a good
deal. That demigod appeared in a white surtout, with a crimson cape, a
French waistcoat, his hair _en papillote_, a feather in his hat, a
_couteau de chasse_ by his side, with a small cane hanging to his
button, and a pair of Italian greyhounds at his heels; and he must have
impressed Tresham prodigiously; for I observe no other instance in which
he has noted down costume so carefully. Little Puddock, too, was
hovering near, and his wooing made uncomfortable by Aunt Becky's renewed
severity, as well as by the splendour of 'Mr. Redheels,' who was
expending his small talk and _fleuerets_ upon Gertrude. Cluffe,
moreover, who was pretty well in favour with Aunt Rebecca, and had been
happy and prosperous, had his little jealousies too to plague him, for
Dangerfield, with his fishing-rod and basket, no sooner looked in, with
his stern front and his remarkable smile, than Aunt Becky, seeming
instantaneously to forget Captain Cluffe, and all his winning ways, and
the pleasant story, to the point of which he was just arriving, in his
best manner, left him