He took up one of Helen’s pencils and began to cut it--he looked vexed, and low to her observed, “Lady Davenant did not do me the honour to let me finish my sentence.” “Then,” said Helen, “if Lady Davenant misunderstood you, why do not you explain?” “No, no it is not worth while, if she could so mistake me.” “But any body may be mistaken; do explain.” “No, no,” said he, very diligently cutting the pencil to pieces; “she is engaged, you see, with somebody--something else.” “But now she has done listening.” “No, no, not now; there are too many people, and it’s of no consequence.” By this time the company were all eagerly talking of every remarkable person they had seen, or that they regretted not having seen. Lady Cecilia now called upon each to name the man among the celebrated of modern days, whom they should most liked to have seen. By acclamation they all named Sir Walter Scott, ‘The Ariosto of the North!’ All but Beauclerc; he did not join the general voice; he said low to Helen with an air of disgust--“How tired I am of hearing him called ‘The Ariosto of the North!’” “But by whatever name,” said Helen, “surely you join in that general wish to have seen him?” “Yes, yes, I am sure of your vote,” cried Lady Cecilia, coming up to them, “You, Granville, would rather have seen Sir Walter Scott than any author since Shakespeare--would not you?” “Pardon me, on the contrary, I am glad that I have never seen him.” “Glad not to have seen him!--_not_?” The word _not_ was repeated with astonished incredulous emphasis by all voices. “Glad not to have seen Sir Walter Scott! How extraordinary! What can Mr. Beauclerc mean?” “To make us all stare,” said Lady Davenant, “so do not gratify him. Do not wonder at him; we cannot believe what is impossible, you know, only because it is impossible. But,” continued she, laughing, “I know how it is. The spirit of contradiction--the spirit of singularity--two of your familiars, Granville, have got possession of you again, and we must have patience while the fit is on.” “But I have not, and will not have patience,” said Lord Davenant, whose good-nature seldom failed, but who was now quite indignant. “I wonder you are surprised, my dear Lord,” said Lady Davenant, “for Mr. Beauclerc likes so much better to go wrong by himself than to go right with all the world, that you could not expect that he would join the loud voice of universal praise.” “I hear the loud voice of universal execration,” said Beauclerc; “you have all abused me, but whom have I abused? What have I said?” “Nothing.” replied Lady Cecilia; “that is what we complain of. I could have better borne any abuse than indifference to Sir Walter Scott.”