“Am I to take this as a refusal,” said he, stiffly; “am I to tell Colonel Hunter that your brother does not accept his offer?” “If it depended on me,--yes; but it does not. I 'll write to-night and tell Tom the generous project that awaits him; he shall decide for himself.” “I know Hunter will be annoyed; he'll think it was through some bungling mismanagement of mine his plan has failed; he 'll be certain to say, If it was I myself bad spoken toner--” “Well, there's no harm in letting him think so,” said she, laughing. “Tell him I think him charming, that I hope he 'll have a delightful voyage and a most prosperous career after it, that I intend to read the Indian columns in the newspaper from this day out, and will always picture him to my mind as seated in the grandest of howdabs on the very tallest of elephants, humming 'Rule Britannia' up the slopes of the Himalaya, and as the penny-a-liners say, extending the blessings of the English rule in India.” She gave her hand to him, made a little salutation,--half bow, half courtesy,--and, saying “Good-bye,” turned back into the shrubbery and left him. He hesitated,--almost turned to follow her; waited a second or two more, and then, with an impatient toss of his head, walked briskly to the river-side and jumped into his boat. It was a sulky face that he wore, and a sulky spirit was at work within him. There is no greater discontent than that of him who cannot define the chagrin that consumes him. In reality, he was angry with himself, but he turned the whole force of his displeasure upon her. “I suppose she is clever. I 'm no judge of that sort of thing; but, for my own part, I'd rather see her more womanly, more delicate. She has not a bit of heart, that's quite clear; nor, with all her affectations, does she pretend it.” These were his first meditations, and after them he lit a cigar and smoked it. The weed was a good one; the evening was beautifully calm and soft, and the river scenery looked its very best. He tried to think of a dozen things: he imagined, for instance, what a picturesque thing a boat-race would be in such a spot; he fancied he saw a swift gig sweep round the point and head up the stream; he caught sight of a little open in the trees with a background of dark rock, and he thought what a place for a cottage. But whether it was the “match” or the “chalet” that occupied him, Polly Dill was a figure in the picture; and he muttered unconsciously, “How pretty she is, what a deal of expression those gray-blue eyes possess! She's as active as a fawn, and to the full as graceful. Fancy her an Earl's daughter; give her station and all the advantages station will bring with it,--what a girl it would be! Not that she'd ever have a heart; I'm certain of that. She's as worldly--as worldly as--” The exact similitude did not occur; but he flung the end of his cigar into the river instead, and sat brooding mournfully for the rest of the way. CHAPTER XXV. DUBLIN REVISITED