Poor Bella! how heavy on hand she _will_
find him."
"Ah! and he might have come to a timely end over timber; Providence does
interfere so benevolently sometimes." This was Forrester's pious
reflection.
"Well, that's over," Guy went on. "He must shoot, though; every one
shoots, or thinks he does. We have all the pheasants to kill yet
(by-the-by, Fallowfield comes over on Thursday for the Home Wood); that
will keep him employed for some time; but it's only putting off the evil
day. My match-making aunt, of blessed memory, how much she has to answer
for! I hate to think of Bella's _mignonne_ face alongside of that
flinty-cheeked Scotchman's."
"Don't be angry, Guy," suggested Charley, with some diffidence; "but, if
it's not an impertinent question, do you think he ever tries to kiss
your cousin?"
"I never thought of that," replied Livingstone, not without an oath;
"there's another pleasant reflection. No, I should think not. He _is_
ceremonious, to give the devil his due. I'll find out to-morrow, though,
without making Bella blush. Miss Bellasys is sure to know. I saw them
exchanging confidences all this evening, and I am certain there were
instigations to rebellion. Flora would delight in an _emeute_; she's a
perfect Red Republican, that girl.
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