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"He see you get in this morning under Mr. Ramornie I was very piticular to Mr. Ramornie you, if you remember, sir and he see you get in again under Mr. St. Eaves, and whatever's he going to see you get out under? that's what worries me, sir. It don't seem to me like as if the position was what you call stratetegic!" "Parrrbleu! will you let me be?" I cried.
"Indeed you have, Heriot!" she murmured. "Hush!" said Andrew sternly. "Let them say what they feel, Andrew," said his father, with a glance of melancholy kindness at the widow. "It's natural enough." Mrs. Ramornie at once took that hint, and her brief words of eulogy were corroborated by a general murmur. "Thank you, thank you," said Mr. Walkingshaw.
"To tell the honest truth, I'm devoutly thankful for one thing," observed Andrew, with the first smile he had permitted himself, and even it was appropriately grim: "this will put Madge Dunbar's nose out of joint." "Thank Heaven for that!" replied Mrs. Ramornie devoutly. "She meant to get him," said Mrs. Donaldson. "I never saw a woman try harder."
Ramornie?" "Fellow!" cried I. "O, fellow as much as you please!" said he. "Fellow, with all my heart! That changes nothing. I am fellow, of course obtrusive fellow, impudent fellow, if you like but who are you?
They in turn opened their eyes. "Is it the er usual thing?" he inquired. "The doctor said nothing about it. Who would ever imagine he was going to want champagne again?" "Is it ever given?" asked Andrew cautiously. "Oh, I know it's given," interposed Mrs. Ramornie decisively. "George's uncle drank it up to five minutes before he died." George's uncle had been a very bad example.
The blazing beach, the misty mountains, the hot trade-wind, the fantastic leaves overhead, the black limbs and faces, the horses eating palm-leaves, and we sitting on logs among the strange ungainly Montrichardias, drinking 'Ramornie' out of bamboo, washing it down with milk from green coconuts was this, too, a scene in a pantomime?
Ramornie and Andrew talked in decorously lowered voices; Mrs. Donaldson more loudly, and almost more airily, as became her dashing appearance and smart reputation. Yet she too had a nice sense of the solemnity of the occasion, and they forgave her elevated voice, since they knew several people of rank who talked like that. "An irretrievable loss," Andrew was saying; "an irretrievable loss."
"You must teach me it, Mr. Anne I mean, Ramornie." I dissuaded him: alleging that he would find me very imperfectly informed as to the grounds and doctrines of the Church, and that, after all, in the matter of religions, it was a very poor idea to change. "Of course, my Church is the best," said I; "but that is not the reason why I belong to it; I belong to it because it was the faith of my house.
'That's all well and good; but who's to prove to me that you are Mr. Ramornie? 'Fellow! cried I. 'O, fellow as much as you please! said he. 'Fellow, with all my heart! That changes nothing. I am fellow, of course obtrusive fellow, impudent fellow, if you like but who are you?
The two ladies seemed positively incapable of grasping his objections, either to wearing a Homburg hat or recommending a naughty French watering-place. "I don't insist on its being white; grey will do," said Mrs. Donaldson. "Of course, I should never dream of taking him to a really disreputable place," said Mrs. Ramornie; "you only want a Casino and a little promenading, and so on."
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