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ite a letter proposing marriage. Then he calculated she would accept him for love of his office; then they would be married; then he should be master of Fieldhead; and he should live very comfortably, have servants at his command, eat and drink of the best, and be a great man. You would not have suspected his intentions when he addressed his intended bride in an impertinent, injured tone--"A very dangerous dog that, Miss Keeldar. I wonder you should keep such an animal." "Do you, Mr. Donne? Perhaps you will wonder more when I tell you I am very fond of him." "I should say you are not serious in the assertion. Can't fancy a lady fond of that brute--'tis so ugly--a mere carter's dog. Pray hang him." "Hang what I am fond of!" "And purchase in his stead some sweetly pooty pug or poodle--something appropriate to the fair sex. Ladies generally like lap-dogs." "Perhaps I am an exception." "Oh, you can't be, you know. All ladies are alike in those matters. That is universally allowed." "Tartar frightened you terribly, Mr. Donne. I hope you won't take any harm." "That I shall, no doubt. He gave me a turn I shall not soon forget. When I _sor_ him" (such was Mr. Donne's pronunciation) "about to spring, I thought I should have fainted." "Perhaps you did faint in the bedroom; you were a long time there." "No; I bore up that I might hold the door fast. I was determined not to let any one enter. I thought I would keep a barrier between me and the enemy." "But what if your friend Mr. Malone had been worried?" "Malone must take care of himself. Your man persuaded me to come out at last by saying the dog was chained up in his kennel. If I had not been assured of this, I would have remained all day in the chamber. But what is that? I declare the man has told a falsehood! The dog is there!" And indeed Tartar walked past the glass door opening to the garden, stiff, tawny, and black-muzzled as ever. He still seemed in bad humour. He was growling again, and whistling a half-strangled whistle, being an inheritance from the bulldog side of his ancestry. "There are other visitors coming," observed Shirley, with that provoking coolness which the owners of formidable-looking dogs are apt to show while their animals are all bristle and bay. Tartar sprang down the pavement towards the gate, bellowing _avec explosion_. His mistress quietly opened the glass door, and stepped out chirruping to him. His bellow was already
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