exclaiming, ‘Now, come along,’ he caught hold of Rose as if she’d been a carpetbag, dragged her out, and pushed her by main force into the cab.” “Oh, mamma,” interrupted Rose apologetically, “you really colour the matter too highly. Mr. Frere was as kind as possible. He was a little rough, certainly, and seemed to think I must be as helpless as a child; but I dare say he’s not accustomed to act as squire to dames.” “Indeed he’s not,” resumed Mrs. Arundel. “But I was determined he shouldn’t paw me about like a bale of goods, so I rested my hand on a porter’s shoulder and sprang from the coach into the cab while he was stooping to pick up his wretched umbrella; and finely astonished he looked, too, when he discovered what I had done. Then he dragged down all the luggage, just as he had done Rose, and tried to put two trunks that did not belong to us on the cab, only I raved at him till I obliged him to relinquish them. Of course I was forced to offer him a seat in the cab, but he coolly replied, ‘No, thank ye; there are too many bandboxes--the squares of their bases occupy the entire area. I’ll sit beside cabby.’ And to my horror he scrambled up to the driving-seat, and taking the dirty book out of his pocket, was speedily absorbed in its contents; and in this state we actually drove up to Lady Lombard’s door. I could have beaten the man, I was so angry with him. And yet, with it all, the creature is a gentleman.” “Indeed he is,” returned Lewis, “a thorough gentleman in mind, though from the extent to which he is engrossed by his literary and scientific pursuits, and from the fact of living so much alone, he has not the manners of society. But Frere is a very first-rate man; his is no ordinary intellect.” “It is impossible to watch the play of his features and doubt that for a moment,” returned Rose eagerly. “Look at his speaking eye--his noble forehead.” “Oh! Rose is quite _emprise_ with the monster,” remarked Mrs. Arundel, laughing. “It’s a decided case of love at first sight. Was it the old greatcoat, or the dreadful hat, which first touched your heart, _ma chere_?” “I’m not bound to criminate myself,” was the reply, “so I shall decline to answer that question.” While she spoke a short, sharp, double knock, as of an agitated postman, awoke the echoes and the porter in Lady Lombard’s “Marble Hall.” In another minute the Brobdignagian footman, with prize calves to his legs, flung open the drawing-room door and announced, in a stentorian voice, “Mr. Frere.” “_Quand on parle du diable on en voit la queue?_” whispered Mrs. Arundel, rising quickly. “Positively, Rose, my nerves won’t stand the antics of your pet bear this morning. Let me see you again before you go, _Louis, mon cher_--you’ll find me in the boudoir.”