Pawkins,
Maguffin and Sylvanus; Mr. Terry, the constable, and Timotheus fell to
Tryphosa. Peace once more reigned, save when the great-grandson of the
brigadier general was detected in looking over his opponent's cards and
otherwise acting illegally.
Bigglethorpe and the lawyer entered the house, not far from bed time.
The company was in the drawing-room, and a lady was at the piano
singing, and playing her own accompaniment, while Mr. Lamb was standing
beside her, pretending to turn over the music, of which he had as little
knowledge as the animal whose name he bore. The song was that beautiful
one of Burns,
O wert thou in the cauld blast
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
and, though a gentleman's song, it was rendered with exquisite taste and
feeling. The singer looked up appealingly at Mr. Lamb twice, solely to
invoke his aid in turning the music leaf. But, to Coristine's jealous
soul, it was a glance of tenderness and mutual understanding. Four long
days he had known her, and she had never sung for him; and now, just as
soon as the Crown Land idiot comes along, she must favour him with her
very best.
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