She smiled a lively beam in answer to the earl; 'Oh yes I 'm glad. It's your doing, my lord.' Him it was that she thanked, and for the moment prized most. The female riddle is hard to read, because it is compounded of sensations, and they rouse and appeal to the similar cockatrices in us, which either hiss back or coil upon themselves. She admired Kit Ines for his valour: she hated that ruinous and besotting drink. It flung skeletons of a married couple on the wall of the future. Nevertheless her love had been all maternal to him when he lay chastised and disgraced on account of his vice. Pity had done it. Pity not being stirred, her admiration of the hero declared victorious, whose fortunes in uncertainty had stopped the beating of her heart, was eclipsed by gratitude toward his preserver, and a sentiment eclipsed becomes temporarily coldish, against our wish and our efforts, in a way to astonish; making her think that she cannot hold two sentiments at a time; when it is but the fact that she is unable to keep the two equally warm. Carinthia said to her: 'He is brave.' 'Oh yes, he's brave,' Madge assented. Lord Brailstone, flourishing his whip, cried out: 'At Canleys to-night?' The earl nodded: 'I shall be there.' 'You, too, Chummy?' came from Abrane. 'To see you dance,' Potts rejoined, and mumbled 'But will he dance! Old Braney's down on his luck; he's a specimen of a fellow emptier and not lighter. And won't be till supper-time. But, I say, Fleet, how the deuce?--funny sort of proceeding!--You haven't introduced me.' 'The lady bears my name, Mr. Chumley Potts.' With a bow to the lady's profile and a mention of a glimpse at Baden, Potts ejaculated: 'It happened this morning?' 'You allude to the marriage. It happened this morning.' 'How do I get to Canleys?' 'I drive you. Another team from the Esslemont stables is waiting at the Royal.' 'You stay at Canleys?' 'No.' 'No? Oh! Funny, upon my word. Though I don't know why not--except that people . . .' 'Count your winnings, Chummy.' Fleetwood remarked to his bride: 'Our friend has the habit of soliloquizing in company. I forgot to tell you of an appointment of mine at a place called Canleys, about twenty miles or more from here. I gave my word, so I keep it. The landlady at the inn, Mrs. Rundles, motherly kind of woman; she will be attentive. They don't cook badly, for an English inn, I have heard. Madge here will act as your lady's-maid for the time. You will find her serviceable; she's a bruiser's lass and something above it. Ines informed me, Madge, you were going to friends of yours at the Wells. You will stay at the Royal and wait on this lady, who bears my name. You understand?--A girl I can trust for courage, if the article is in request,' he resumed to his bride; and talked generally of the inn and the management of it, and its favoured position outside the village and contiguous to the river, upon which it subsisted.