Thereat Mr. St. George
laughed.
"Don't Russian women present the knout to their bridegrooms?" asked
Eloise then, mischievously.
But before he could have replied, she resumed,--
"Well, Sir, Hazel is very pretty"----
"It is Hazel, then? Would you like her to be made more distinctly yours,
Miss Eloise?"
"Oh, dear, no, Sir, thank you. That isn't it at all. Hazel is in love."
"Indeed!"
"She is in love with Vane, a boy of Mr. Marlboro's: you may have seen
him; he is here a good deal,--by stealth: and they want to be married.
But Mr. Marlboro' is their terror, he may put an end to everything, and
they are afraid, and--and--could you buy Vane, Mr. St. George?"
"I could, Miss Changarnier."
"And you will, then?" cried Eloise, springing up.
"If Mr. Marlboro' will sell him."
"Won't he?"
"It is a pride of the Marlboro's that there never was a hand sold off
the place."
"Oh, I had forgotten. They would tell too shocking stories."
"Not here. Not unless they were sold off the Cuban plantation, where the
vicious ones are transported."
"But perhaps he would give him to you."
"Miss Eloise, he would give him to _you_."
"Me? I have never seen him."
"That is of no consequence. He has seen you."
"I wonder where. Do you really suppose that Mr.
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