Ravenshoe. By Henry Kingsley.

RANFORD AGAIN. 121
"Of course I will, you gaby. Did you think I was going to
show fight in your house? "
When Marston came down to dinner, there was Lord Welter
sitting beside old Densil, and kindly amusing him with all sorts
of gossip, — stable and other.
"How do, Marston?" said he, rising and coming forward.
"How d' ye do, Lord Welter?" said Marston.
"I am very glad to meet you here," said Lord Welter, with a
good-humored smile, " although I am ashamed to look you in the
face. Marston, my dear Mr. Ravenshoe, is Charles's good genius,
and I am his evil one; I am always getting Charles into mischief,
and he is always trying to keep him out of it. Hitherto, however, I have been completely successful, and he has made a dead
failure."
Old Densil laughed. "You are doing yourself injustice,
Welter," he said. "Is he not doing himself an injustice, Mr.
Marston? "
" Not in the least, sir," said Marston. And the two young men
shook hands more cordially than they had ever done before.
That evening Lord Welter fulfilled Mary's prophecy, that he
would smoke in his bedroom, and not only smoke there himself,
but induced Charles to come and do so also. Marston was not in
the humor for the style of conversation he knew he should have
there, and so he retired to bed, and left the other two to themselves.
"Well, Charles," said Welter. " O, by the by, I have got a
letter for you from that mysterious madcap, Adelaide. She
couldn't send it by post; that would not have been mysterious
and underhand enough for her. Catch hold."
Charles caught hold, and read his letter. Welter watched him
curiously from under the heavy eyebrows, and, when he had
finished, said," Come put that away, and talk. That sort of thing is pretty
much the same in all cases, I take it. As far as my own experience goes, it is always the same. Scold and whine and whimper;
whimper, whine, and scold. How's that old keeper of yours?"
"He has lost his wife."
"Poor fellow! I remember his wife, — a handsome Irish
woman."
"My nurse?"
"Ay, ay. And the pretty girl, Ellen; how is she?"
"Poor Ellen! She has run away, Welter; gone to the bad, I
fear."
Lord Welter sat in just the same position, gazing on the fire.
He then said, in a very deliberate voice," The deuce she is! I am very sorry to hear that. I was in
hopes of renewing our acquaintance."
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