"But
indeed there was-eh, Phyllis?
"Mr. Burke," she added, with a sudden solemnity, "a few minutes after you
left us at Soho Square Merriman rode up, and I assure you I nearly
swooned, poor man! and hardly had strength to send for the surgeon. It
needed three stitches--and he such a handsome man, too."
A horrid suspicion flashed through Desmond's mind. He remembered the scar
on Mr. Merriman's brow, and that it was a scarcely healed wound when he
met him with Clive on that unfortunate occasion in Billiter Street.
"Surely, ma'am, you don't mean--the highwayman?"
"Indeed I do. That is just it. Your highwayman was--Mr. Merriman. Fancy
the hurt to his feelings, to say nothing of his good looks. Fie, fie, Mr.
Burke!"
For a moment Desmond did not know whether embarrassment or amazement was
uppermost with him. It was bad enough to have tripped Mr. Merriman up in
the muddy street; but to have also dealt him a blow of which he would
retain the mark to his dying day--"This is terrible!" he thought. Still
there was an element of absurdity in the adventure that appealed to his
sense of the ridiculous. But he felt the propriety of being apologetic,
and was about to express his regret for his mistake when Mrs. Merriman
interrupted him with a smile:
"But there, Mr. Burke, he bears you no grudge, I am sure. He is the
essence of good temper. It was a mistake; he saw that when I explained;
and when he had vented his spleen on the coachman next day he owned that
it was a plucky deed in you to take charge of us, and indeed he said that
you was a mighty good whip; although," she added laughing, "you was a
trifle heavy in hand.
Pages:
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325