"Half-past four, madam. I am really shocked at the length of my visit."
"Well, I must go away. Perhaps you 'll come and see my sister--she's charming, I assure you, and she 'd like to know you?"
"If you will vouchsafe to present me on any other day, I shall be but too grateful; but Sir Marcus Cluff gave me a rendezvous for four o'clock."
"And you 'll be with him at five," cried she, laughing. "Don't say it was I that made you break your appointment, for he hates me, and would never forgive you. By-by. Tell your mother I 'll call on her to-morrow, and hope you 'll both dine with me." And without waiting for a word in reply, she tripped out of the summer-house, and hastened away to the villa.
L'Estrange had little time to think over this somewhat strange interview when he reached the entrance-gate to the grounds of Sir Marcus Cluff, and was scarcely admitted within the precincts when a phaeton and a pair of very diminutive ponies drove up, and a thin, emaciated man, carefully swathed in shawls and wrappers, who held the reins, called out, "Is that Mr. L'Estrange?"
The young parson came forward with his excuses for being late, and begged that he might not interrupt Sir Marcus in his intended drive.
"Will you take a turn with me?" said Sir Marcus, in a whining voice, that sounded like habitual complaint. "I 'm obliged to do this every day; it 's the doctor's order. He says, 'Take the air and distract yourself;' and I do so." L'Estrange had now seated himself, and they drove away.
"I'm glad you've come," said Sir Marcus. "It will stop all this plotting and intriguing. If you had delayed much longer, I think they 'd have had a dozen here--one of them a converted Jew, a very dirty fellow. Oh, dear, how fatiguing it is! that little crop-eared pony pulls so he can't be held, and we call him John Bright; but don't mention it. I hope you have no family, sir?"
"A sister isn't so bad. A sister may marry, or she may--" What was the other alternative did not appear, for John Bright bolted at this moment, and it was full five minutes ere he could be pulled up again. "This is the distraction I 'm promised," said the sick man. "If it was n't for Mr. Needham--I call the near-sider Mr. Needham, as I bought him of that gentleman--I 'd have too much distraction; but Needham never runs away--he falls; he comes down as if he was shot!" cried he, with a joyous twinkle of the eye, "and I bought him for that. There's no drag ever was invented like a horse on his belly--the most inveterate runaway can't escape against that." If the little cackle that followed this speech did not sound exactly like a laugh, it was all of that emotion that Sir Marcus ever permitted himself.