A benevolent idea struck Richard, that he might employ the minutes to spare, in pleading the case of poor Ralph; and, as he was drawn along, he pulled out his watch to note the precise number of minutes he could dedicate to this charitable office. “Pardon me,” said Mrs. Doria. “You want manners, my dear boy. I think it never happened to me before that a man consulted his watch in my presence.” Richard mildly replied that he had an engagement at a particular hour, up to which he was her servant. “Fiddlededee!” the vivacious lady sang. “Now I’ve got you, I mean to keep you. Oh! I’ve heard all about you. This ridiculous indifference that your father makes so much of! Why, of course, you wanted to see the world! A strong healthy young man shut up all his life in a lonely house—no friends, no society, no amusements but those of rustics! Of course you were indifferent! Your intelligence and superior mind alone saved you from becoming a dissipated country boor.—Where are the others?” Clare and Adrian came up at a quick pace. “My damozel dropped something,” Adrian explained. Her mother asked what it was. “Nothing, mama,” said Clare, demurely, and they proceeded as before. Overborne by his aunt’s fluency of tongue, and occupied in acute calculation of the flying minutes, Richard let many pass before he edged in a word for Ralph. When he did, Mrs. Doria stopped him immediately. “I must tell you, child, that I refuse to listen to such rank idiotcy.” “It’s nothing of the kind, aunt.” “The fancy of a boy.” “He’s not a boy. He’s half-a-year older than I am!” “You silly child! The moment you fall in love, you all think yourselves men.” “On my honour, aunt! I believe he loves her thoroughly.” “Did he tell you so, child?” “Men don’t speak openly of those things,” said Richard. “Boys do,” said Mrs. Doria. “But listen to me in earnest, aunt. I want you to be kind to Ralph. Don’t drive him to—You maybe sorry for it. Let him—do let him write to her, and see her. I believe women are as cruel as men in these things.” “I never encourage absurdity, Richard.” “What objection have you to Ralph, aunt?” “Oh, they’re both good families. It’s not that absurdity, Richard. It will be to his credit to remember that his first fancy wasn’t a dairymaid.” Mrs. Doria pitched her accent tellingly. It did not touch her nephew. “Don’t you want Clare ever to marry?” He put the last point of reason to her. Mrs. Doria laughed. “I hope so, child. We must find some comfortable old gentleman for her.” “What infamy!” mutters Richard.