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Updated: September 11, 2025
Lord Palmet brought his eyes down from the busts of certain worthies ranged along the top of the book-shelves to the cushioned chairs, and murmured, 'Capital place for an appointment with a woman. Mr. Tomlinson gazed up at him mildly, with a fallen countenance.
The colonel boiled over with accounts of Beauchamp's behaviour toward his uncle, and Palmet, and Baskelett, and Mrs. Culling: how he flew at and worried everybody who seemed to him to have had a hand in the proper chastisement of that man Shrapnel.
'You're yourself again, are you? Go to Paris in January, and cut out the Frenchmen. 'Answer me, Palmet: they weren't in couples? 'I fancy not. It was luck to meet them, so they couldn't have been. 'Did you dance with either of them? Unable to state accurately that he had, Palmet cried, 'Oh! for dancing, the Frenchwoman beat the Italian. 'Did you see her often more than once?
'Palmet gives you two-thirds of the borough. The poor old Tory tortoise is nowhere. They've been writing about you, Nevil. 'They have. And if there 's a man of honour in the party I shall hold him responsible for it. 'I allude to an article in the Bevisham Liberal paper; a magnificent eulogy, upon my honour. I give you my word, I have rarely read an article so eloquent.
So small did the circumstance appear to Cecilia, notwithstanding her gentle opposition at the time she listened to it, that she never thought of mentioning it to her father, and only remembered it when Captain Baskelett, with Lord Palmet in his company, presented himself at Mount Laurels, and proposed to the colonel to read to him 'a letter from that scoundrelly old Shrapnel to Nevil Beauchamp, upon women, wives, thrones, republics, British loyalty, et caetera, an et caetera that rolled a series of tremendous reverberations down the list of all things held precious by freeborn Englishmen.
'As you like, retorted the doctor. 'Oh! Very good. Good evening. Cecil slightly lifted his hat, with the short projection of the head of the stately peacock in its walk, and passed out of the garden. Lord Palmet, deeply disappointed and mystified, went after him, leaving Dr. Shrapnel to shorten his garden walk with enormous long strides.
'I'm afraid you didn't manage the old boy, Palmet complained. 'They're people who have tea in their gardens; we might have sat down with them and talked, the best friends in the world, and come again to-morrow might have called her Jenny in a week. She didn't show her pretty nose at any of the windows. His companion pooh-poohed and said: 'Foh!
Lord Palmet brought his eyes down from the busts of certain worthies ranged along the top of the book-shelves to the cushioned chairs, and murmured, 'Capital place for an appointment with a woman. Mr. Tomlinson gazed up at him mildly, with a fallen countenance.
Thereat she turned to a gentleman sitting beside her; apparently they agreed that some incident had occurred characteristic of Nevil Beauchamp; for whom, however, it was not a brilliant evening. He was very well able to account for it, and did so, after he had walked a few steps with Miss Denham on her homeward way. 'You heard Cougham, Palmet!
She kept eye on him all the while, as Palmet, with the skill of an adept in disguising his petty larceny of the optics, did on her. Twice or thrice she looked pained: Beauchamp was hesitating for the word. Once she looked startled and shut her eyes: a hiss had sounded; Beauchamp sprang on it as if enlivened by hostility, and dominated the factious note.
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