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"This is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy," said Ebba. "Oh, I have been so wretched!"
"I grieve to hear it," he rejoined. "I hoped you had forgotten me."
"I am sure you did not think so," she cried.
As she spoke, she felt a shudder pa.s.s through Auriol's frame.
"What ails you?" she anxiously inquired.
"I would have shunned you, if I could, Ebba," he replied; "but a fate, against which it is vain to contend, has brought us together again."
"I am glad of it," she replied; "because, ever since our last interview, I have been reflecting on what you then said to me, and am persuaded you are labouring under some strange delusion, occasioned by your recent accident."
"Be not deceived, Ebba," cried Auriol. "I am under a terrible influence.
I need not remind you of the mysterious individual who tapped at your window last night."
"What of him?" demanded Ebba, with a thrill of apprehension.
"He it is who controls my destiny," replied Auriol.
"But what has he to do with me?" asked Ebba.
"Much, much," he replied, with a perceptible shudder.
"You terrify me, Auriol," she rejoined. "Tell me what you mean--in pity, tell me?"
Before Auriol could reply, Mr. Thorneycroft stepped forward, and turned the conversation into another channel.
Soon after this, they reached the Quadrant, and were pa.s.sing beneath the eastern colonnade, when Ebba's attention was attracted towards a man who was leading a couple of dogs by a string, while he had others under his arm, others again in his pocket, and another in his breast. It was Mr.
Ginger.
"What a pretty little dog!" cried Ebba, remarking the Charles the Second spaniel.
"Allow me to present you with it?" said Auriol.
"You know I should value it, as coming from you," she replied, blus.h.i.+ng deeply; "but I cannot accept it; so I will not look at it again, for fear I should be tempted."
The dog-fancier, however, noticing Ebba's admiration, held forward the spaniel, and said, "Do jist look at the pretty little creater, miss. It han't its equil for beauty. Don't be afeerd on it, miss. It's as gentle as a lamb."
"Oh you little darling!" Ebba said, patting its sleek head and long silken ears, while it fixed its large black eyes upon her, as if entreating her to become its purchaser.
"Fairy seems to have taken quite a fancy to you, miss," observed Ginger; "and she ain't i' the habit o' fallin' i' love at first sight. I don't wonder at it, though, for my part. I should do jist the same, if I wos in her place. Vell, now, miss, as she seems to like you, and you seem to like her, I won't copy the manners o' them 'ere fathers as has stony 'arts, and part two true lovyers. You shall have her a bargin."
"What do you call a bargain, my good man?" inquired Ebba, smiling.
"I wish I could afford to give her to you, miss," replied Ginger; "you should have her, and welcome. But I must airn a livelihood, and Fairy is the most wallerable part o' my stock. I'll tell you wot I give for her myself, and you shall have her at a trifle beyond it. I'd scorn to take adwantage o' the likes o' you."
"I hope you didn't give too much, then, friend," replied Ebba.
"I didn't give hayf her wally--not hayf," said Ginger; "and if so be you don't like her in a month's time, I'll buy her back again from you.
You'll alvays find me here--alvays. Everybody knows Mr. Ginger--that's my name, miss. I'm the only honest man in the dog-fancyin' line. Ask Mr.
Bishop, the great gunmaker o' Bond Street, about me--him as the n.o.bs calls the Bishop o' Bond Street--an' he'll tell you."
"But you haven't answered the lady's question," said Auriol. "What do you ask for the dog?"
"Do you want it for yourself, sir, or for her?" inquired Ginger.
"What does it matter?" cried Auriol angrily.
"A great deal, sir," replied Ginger; "it'll make a mater'al difference in the price. To you she'll be five-an'-twenty guineas. To the young lady, twenty."
"But suppose I buy her for the young lady?" said Auriol.
"Oh, then, in coorse, you'll get her at the lower figure!" replied Ginger.
"I hope you don't mean to buy the dog?" interposed Mr. Thorneycroft.
"The price is monstrous--preposterous."
"It may appear so to you, sir," said Ginger, "because you're ignorant o'
the wally of sich a hanimal; but I can tell you, it's cheap--dirt cheap.
Vy, his Excellency the Prooshan Amba.s.sador bought a Charley from me, t'other week, to present to a certain d.u.c.h.ess of his acquaintance, and wot d'ye think he give for it?"
"I don't know, and I don't want to know," replied Mr. Thorneycroft gruffly.
"Eighty guineas," said Ginger. "Eighty guineas, as I'm a livin' man, and made no bones about it neither. The dog I sold him warn't to be compared wi' Fairy."
"Stuff--stuff!" cried Mr. Thorneycroft; "I ain't to be gammoned in that way."
"It's no gammon," said Ginger. "Look at them ears, miss--vy, they're as long as your own ringlets--and them pads--an' I'm sure you von't say she's dear at twenty pound."
"She's a lovely little creature, indeed," returned Ebba, again patting the animal's head.
While this was pa.s.sing, two men of very suspicious mien, ensconced behind a pillar adjoining the group, were reconnoitring Auriol.
"It's him!" whispered the taller and darker of the two to his companion--"it's the young man ve've been lookin' for--Auriol Darcy."
"It seems like him," said the other, edging round the pillar as far as he could without exposure. "I vish he'd turn his face a leetle more this vay."
"It's him, I tell you, Sandman," said the Tinker. "Ve must give the signal to our comrade."
"Vell, I'll tell you wot it is, miss," said Ginger coaxingly, "your sveet'art--I'm sure he's your sveet'art--I can tell these things in a minnit--your sveet'art, I say, shall give me fifteen pound, and the dog's yourn. I shall lose five pound by the transaction; but I don't mind it for sich a customer as you. Fairy desarves a kind missus."
Auriol, who had fallen into a fit of abstraction, here remarked:
"What's that you are saying, fellow?"
"I vos a-sayin', sir, the young lady shall have the dog for fifteen pound, and a precious bargin it is," replied Ginger.