"La, Mr. Boscawen," eagerly exclaimed Isabel, turning to her husband, "you don't like nonsense, and we talk nothing else." "I am sorry to hear you confess such folly and wickedness, my love," replied Mr. Boscawen. "I had hoped better things." "Well, Mr. Boscawen, I don't mean exactly nonsense. I don't mean what _you_ mean by nonsense. I only mean, we--we--" "What do you really mean, Isabel?" Mr. Boscawen took her hand kindly, and meant evidently to be playful, but it was the donkey attempting to imitate the lapdog. Isabel coloured, and withdrew her hand in alarm. Her husband's shaggy brows concealed the kindly expression of his eye, as it rested upon her face. "I am sure I don't know, Mr. Boscawen, what I mean. I don't think I ever mean any thing." Mr. Boscawen made no reply, but resumed his position behind Isabel's chair. An awkward pause was agreeably relieved by the entrance of coffee, and shortly afterwards the gentlemen entered from the dining-room. Tom Pynsent flew to Anna Maria, as usual. Lord Ennismore seated himself by the side of his mother. "Lord," cried Mrs. Pynsent to Lady Spottiswoode, "I can't find out a single good quality in that fellow, Ennismore, to attract a girl like Julia Wetheral. If the poor monkey hasn't popped himself down by his mother, instead of his bride. Look at my Tom, now! See how he rattles and coos to his dove! Why, my poor Bobby was not such a honey lover as this Ennismore; and Bobby, you know, would not set the Thames on fire." Sir John sat between Anna Maria and Julia, in silence; he listened with pleased attention to Tom Pynsent, who was dilating upon the comforts he had prepared for his young wife's travelling mania. "God knows what sort of a figure I shall cut," he remarked, in his usual stentorian tone of voice. "I can't fancy much hunting or good shooting among such thin, whey-faced chaps as the French; and, as to dogs, _they_ can know nothing by being spoken to in such a language. I can't speak a word of French, and Anna Maria is as wise as myself. I haven't a notion how we shall get on, but, if my little girl is pleased, I am content. A man should please his wife, you know, or he must be a brute. I wish the Ennismores would join us. Ennismore, my lad, here, come this way--it is not too late now to change your mind and join us in Paris." Lord Ennismore rose and joined the party, who had grouped round Sir John and his daughters. Lady Ennismore followed her son, and placed her arm carelessly within his. Tom Pynsent repeated his observation, and Julia gave her bridegroom a beseeching look, which was observed by Miss Wycherly. Lady Ennismore answered Tom Pynsent's appeal, with her sweetest smile.