“I gave it him at the stile! Let us be serious, if you please; I have a confidence to make you, Ipsden. Frankly, I owe you some apology for my conduct of late; I meant to be reserved--I have been rude--but you shall judge me. A year ago you made me some proposals; I rejected them because, though I like you--” “You like me?” “I detest your character. Since then, my West India estate has been turned into specie; that specie, the bulk of my fortune, placed on board a vessel; that vessel lost, at least we think so--she has not been heard of.” “My dear cousin.” “Do you comprehend that now I am cooler than ever to all young gentlemen who have large incomes, and” (holding out her hand like an angel) “I must trouble you to forgive me.” He kissed her lovely hand. “I esteem you more and more,” said he. “You ought, for it has been a hard struggle to me not to adore you, because you are so improved, _mon cousin.”_ “Is it possible? In what respect?” “You are browner and charitabler; and I should have been very kind to you--mawkishly kind, I fear, my sweet cousin, if this wretched money had not gone down in the _Tisbe.”_ “Hallo!” cried the viscount. “Ah!” squeaked Lady Barbara, unused to such interjections. “Gone down in what?” said Ipsden, in a loud voice. “Don't bellow in people's ears. The _Tisbe,_ stupid,” cried she, screaming at the top of her voice. “Ri tum, ti turn, ti tum, tum, tum, tiddy, iddy,” went Lord Ipsden--he whistled a polka. _Lady Barbara (inspecting him gravely)._ “I have heard it at a distance, but I never saw how it was done before. _It is very, very pretty!!!!”_ _Ipsden. “Polkez-vous, madame?”_ _Lady Barb. “Si, je polke, Monsieur le Vicomte.”_ They polked for a second or two. “Well, I dare say I am wrong,” cried Lady Barbara, “but I like you better now you are a downright--ahem!--than when you were only an insipid non-intellectual--you are greatly improved.” _Ips._ “In what respects?” _Lady Barb._ “Did I not tell you? browner and more impudent; but tell me,” said she, resuming her sly, satirical tone, “how is it that you, who used to be the pink of courtesy, dance and sing over the wreck of my fortunes?” “Because they are not wrecked.” “I thought I told you my specie is gone down in the _Tisbe.”_ _Ipsden._ “But the _Tisbe_ has not gone down.” _Lady Barb._ “I tell you it is.” _Ipsden._ “I assure you it is not.” _Lady Barb._ “It is not?” _Ipsden._ “Barbara! I am too happy, I begin to nourish such sweet hopes once more. Oh, I could fall on my knees and bless you for something you said just now.” Lady Barbara blushed to the temples. “Then why don't you?” said she. “All you want is a little enthusiasm.” Then recovering herself, she said: “You kneel on wet sand, with black trousers on; that will never be!!!” These two were so occupied that they did not observe the approach of a stranger until he broke in upon their dialogue.