"In a way peculiar to himself," said Forrester; "he is always strictly courteous, but decidedly sarcastic. Poor things, they are easily imposed upon; he very soon has them well in hand, and they can never get their heads up afterward. I suppose they like it, for it seems to answer admirably. Last season he divided himself pretty equally between Constance Brandon and Flora Bellasys--quite the two best things out, though as opposite to each other in every way as the poles. To do Miss Brandon justice, I don't think she knew much of the other flirtation; she always went away early, and he used to take up her rival for the rest of the evening." "But the said rival--how did she like the divided homage?" "Not at all at first; at least, she used to look revolvers at Guy from time to time--(ah! you should see the Bellasys' eyes when they begin to lighten)--but he always brought her back to the lure, and at last she seemed to take it quite as a matter of course, keeping all her after-supper waltzes for him religiously, though half the men in town were trying to cut in. I can't make out how he does it. Do you think his size and sinews can have any thing to do with it?" He said this gravely and reflectively. "Not unlikely," I replied; "the _fortiter in re_ goes a long way with women apparently, even where there is not a tongue like his to back it. Don't you remember Juvenal's strong-minded heroine, who left husband and home to follow the scarred, maimed gladiator? I doubt if the Mirmillo was a pleasant or intellectual companion. Now I want you to tell me something about Guy's cousin and her father; they are coming here to-day, and I have never met them." "Mr. Raymond is very like most calm, comfortable old men with a life interest in L2000 a year," Charley said; "rather more cold and impassible than the generality, perhaps. He _must_ be clever, for he plays whist better than any one I know; but not brilliant, certainly. His daughter is"--the color deepened on his cheek perceptibly--"very charming, most people think; but I hate describing people. I always caricature the likeness. You'll form your own judgment at dinner. Shall we go in? We shoot an outlying cover after luncheon, and the blackthorns involve gaiters." We had very fair sport, and were returning across the park, picking up a stray rabbit every now and then in the tufts of long grass and patches of brake. One had just started before Forrester, and he was in the act of pulling the trigger, when Livingstone said suddenly, "There's my uncle's carriage coming down the north avenue." It was an easy shot in the open, but Charley missed it clean. "What eyes you have, Guy," he said, pettishly; "but I wish you wouldn't speak to a man on his shot." Guy's great Lancaster rang out with the roar of a small field-piece, and the rabbit was rolling over, riddled through the head, before he answered,