Dermot kept us full of merriment, and we laughed on till the
sound of the dressing-bell sent us racing up to the castle in joyous
guilt. That kettledrum at the lodge is one of the brightest spots in
my memory.
We were very merry all the evening in a suppressed way over the
piano, Viola, Dermot, and I singing, Harold looking on, and Eustace
being left a willing victim to the good counsel lavished by my lord
and my lady, who advised him nearly out of his senses and into their
own best graces.
But we had not yet done with the amenities of the Stympsons. The
morning's post brought letters to Lady Diana and Lord Erymanth, which
were swallowed by the lady with only a flush on her brow, but which
provoked from the gentleman a sharp interjection.
"Scandalous, libellous hags!"
"The rara Avis?" inquired Dermot.
And in spite of Lady Diana's warning, "Not now," Lord Erymanth
declared, "Avice, yes! A bird whose quills are quills of iron dipped
in venom, and her beak a brazen one, distilling gall on all around.
I shall inform her that she has made herself liable to an action for
libel. A very fit lesson to her."
"What steps shall I take, my lord?" said Eustace, with much
importance. "I shall be most happy to be guided by you."
"It is not you," said Lord Erymanth.
"Oh! if it is only _he_, it does not signify so much."
"Certainly not," observed Dermot.
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