The Woman with One Hand, and Mr. Ely's Engagement

"Oh, no, I'm not."

"But I say you are! Hang it, sir, I never saw a more 'Came, saw, and conquered' style about a man before. If I were you, I would wait for victory to forward your despatch. As it is, I happen to know that Miss Truscott is engaged already."

So saying, Mr. Ash slipped his letter into the inner pocket of his coat.

"What!"

"For goodness' sake, Mr. Summers, don't shout the ceiling down! You will have the people coming in from the street, not to speak of the clerks outside."

"If I didn't know that you meant it for a jest, I should say it was a lie."

"You may say exactly what you please, it won't alter the fact."

"The fact! You call that a fact! I'll go down to Shanklin by the next train, and learn the truth from her own lips."

Mr. Summers made for the door, but Mr. Ash interposed; he was conscious that it would be advisable to induce this impetuous suitor to hasten slowly.

"One moment, Mr. Summers. I am sure you would be unwilling to do another an injury, even unconsciously. If you will restrain your impatience I will endeavour to explain to you exactly how the matter lies."

"How the matter lies? That's just what it does do-it lies! Or some one does, at any rate."

"Mr. Summers, you are a man of honour-we are both men of honour, I trust. Would you have me break my plighted word?"

"Break your plighted word? That depends. If you've plighted your word to break my heart, by George! I'd have you break it, then!"

"Let me remove this matter from the realms of romance into the regions of common sense."

"When you City men begin to talk about common sense you mean something very common indeed."

"Mr. Summers, this is a very solemn subject to me."

"Solemn subject to you! I wonder what sort of subject you think it is to me. Is she going to be my wife or yours?"

"Miss Truscott will be the wife of neither."

"Won't she? By George, we'll see!"

Again Mr. Summers made helter-skelter for the door. Again Mr. Ash made haste to interpose.

"If you will permit me to speak half a dozen consecutive words without interruption, I will make it plain to you that what I have at heart is the interest of all concerned."

"Except me! Never mind, I'll listen. Out with your half a dozen words."

Mr. Summers dropped into a chair in a way which must have been a severe test of its solidity, and brought his bludgeon down upon the floor with a bang. Mr. Ash started. He felt that this was a sort of suitor he had not bargained for.

"The case in a nutshell is simply this. Just before you came there was a gentleman here who made exactly the same proposal you have done. He, too, solicited the honour of Miss Truscott's hand."

Mr. Summers was up like a rocket. Again his bludgeon came down with a bang.

"The devil there was! Confound his impudence! What was the scoundrel's name?"

"The scoundrel's name is immaterial. The point is that I agreed that he should go down to Shanklin to-morrow, and, in proper form, make to the lady the offer of his hand."

"To-morrow, did you? Then I am off tonight."

"Still one moment, Mr. Summers, if you please. You appeared to be so certain of the lady's affection that I was scarcely prepared to find you so alarmed at the prospect of a rival in the field."

"Alarmed! Not I! I will back my darling's truth against the world!"

"Then supposing, instead of confining yourself to words, you prove your faith by deeds. Let this man try his luck to-morrow. If he fails, there is the next day left for you.

"Look here, Ash; when he's failed, will you consent to Lily being mine?"

"If he fails and Miss Truscott gives her consent, then I will."

"Then it's agreed! To-morrow, the beggar shall have his chance! The day after, I'll try mine."

Just then the door opened and Mr. Ely appeared. Mr. Summers rushed to him with outstretched hand.

"Hallo, Ely, haven't seen you for an age! You're looking queer! You ought to try a change of air."

"Think so? To-morrow I'm going out of town."

"Are you? That's odd! The day after I'm going too."

These remarks were exchanged while the two gentlemen shook hands.

CHAPTER III

MR. ELY ARRIVES

Miss Truscott was evidently not in the pleasantest frame of mind. It was unfortunate, for she was the kind of maid one feels instinctively ought always to be in a pleasant frame of mind. Tall, slender, with great, big eyes, sunny hair, and the sweetest smile. The latter, however, was conspicuous by its absence, as she sat at the breakfast-table with an open letter in her hand.

She was at breakfast with her aunt. Mrs. Clive was a precise old lady, who always indoors wore lace cuffs and collar, and the neatest of caps. It was a peculiarity of hers that she was never known to be anything but cool and self-possessed. Sometimes her niece was neither. Then it increased the young lady's sense of aggravation to observe how her aunt's demeanour contrasted with her own-as, for instance, it did now.

"You don't seem to be in the least surprised or annoyed or hurt. You quite take it for granted that I should be insulted."

Mrs. Clive considered for a moment before she answered. She sat bolt upright, her hands in her lap, the model of decorum.

"My dear Lily, the younger generation is impetuous."

Miss Truscott sighed. To be called impetuous under the circumstances of the case seemed almost more than she could bear.

"I write to my guardian on the whole four sides of a sheet of paper to tell him that I must get away from this dreadful place or I shall die, and this is the answer he sends."

She spread the letter out before her on the table and read it aloud, with comments by the way.

"'My dear Lily' (yes, dear at any price, I know), 'I have read your charming letter with the greatest interest.' (Did anybody ever hear the like of that? He read my charming letter with the greatest interest, when I wrote to tell him that I quite believed that I should die!) 'You are indeed a mistress of the epistolary art.' (That is a pretty compliment to pay when you write and tell a person that life is not worth living!) 'The account which you give of the doings of your neighbours is most entertaining.' (Now I never mentioned a single word about anything but the state of my mind!) 'It is with the greatest pleasure that I hear of your continuance in good health.' (When the whole letter was written to tell him that I was nearly dead!) 'I am glad to hear, too, that your aunt, Mrs. Clive, is still in the enjoyment of nature's greatest blessing.' (What nature's greatest blessing is I don't know, but I am sure I never even breathed your name.) 'Pray convey to her my compliments.' (With pleasure, aunt!) 'I envy you your sojourn amidst summer's scenic splendours.' (That is what he says, and I actually told him that I was convinced that if I stayed any longer amidst what he calls 'summer's scenic splendours' I should just go raving mad!) 'Tied as I am to the Juggernaut of commerce, I can, however, but look and long.' Now did you-did you ever hear anything like that? And yet you say the younger generation is impetuous! I should just like to have my affectionate guardian here; I'd let him know what the Juggernaut really was!"