Fanny Molyneux was a capital specimen of the thorough-paced partisan. She was terribly indignant at dinner on that first day of their meeting, when Major Keene would not endorse _all_ her raptures about her favorite. He assented to every thing, certainly; but though his approbation was decided it was perfectly calm. He intrenched himself behind his natural and acquired _sang-froid_, and the fair assailant could not force those lines. "Don't be unreasonable," Royston said at last. "As Macdonough always says when he has lost the first two rubbers, 'the night is young and drink is plenty.' Admiration will develop itself if you only give it time. I have serious thoughts already of adding another to the many little poems that must have been written about Miss Tresilyan. Shall I send it to the 'United Service Gazette?' It would be a great credit to our branch of the profession. No dragoon has published a rhyme since Lovelace, I believe. I've got as far as the first line: Ah, Cecil! hide those eyes of blue." "I think I've heard something very like that before," Fanny answered, laughing. "She deserves a prettier compliment than a _rechauffe_." "Have you heard it before? Well, I shouldn't wonder. You don't expect one to be original and enthusiastic at the same moment, when both are out of one's line? I own it, though. Your princess merits all the vassalage she has found--better than she will meet with here--if only for the perfection of her costume. That _is_ a triumph. Honor to the artist who built her hat. I drink to him now, and I wish the Burgundy were worthier of the toast. (Hal, this Corton does not improve.) I should advise you to secure the address of her _bottier_. You know her well enough to ask for it, perhaps? It must be a secret." "Then you have not found out how very clever she is?" "Pardon me," was the reply; "I can imagine Miss Tresilyan perfectly well educated; so well, that she might dispense with carrying about a living voucher in the shape of that dreadful _ex-institutrice_. I never knew what makes very nice women cling so to very disagreeable governesses. Perhaps there is a satisfaction in patronizing where you have been ruled, and in conferring favors where you have only received 'impositions'--a pleasant consciousness of returning good for evil. There is no other rational way of accounting for it." _La mignonne_ was not indignant now, as might have been expected; but she gazed at the speaker long and more searchingly than was her wont, with something very like pity in her kind, earnest eyes. "I suppose you would not sneer so at every thing if you could help it," she said. "I am not wise enough to do so; but I don't envy you." Royston's hard cold face changed for an instant, and the faintest flush lingered there, about as long as your breath would upon polished steel. It was not the first time that one of her random shafts had struck him home. All the sarcasm had died out of his voice as he answered slowly--