"The hand of a Smivvle, sir," pursued that gentleman, "the hand of a
Smivvle is never withdrawn either on account of adversity, plague,
poverty, pestilence, or Jews--dammem! As for my friend Barrymaine;
but, perhaps, you are acquainted with him, sir."
"No," answered Barnabas.
"Ah! a noble fellow, sir! Heroic youth, blood, birth, and breeding
to his finger-tips, sir. But he is, above all else, a brother to
a--a sister, sir. Ah! what a creature! Fair, sir? fair as the
immortal Helena! Proud, sir? proud as an arch-duchess! Handsome, sir?
handsome, sir, as--as--oh, dammit, words fail me; but go, sir, go
and ransack Olympus, and you couldn't match her, 'pon my soul! Diana,
sir? Diana was a frump! Venus? Venus was a dowdy hoyden, by George!
and as for the ox-eyed Juno, she was a positive cow to this young
beauty! And then--her heart, sir!"
"Well, what of it?" inquired Barnabas, rather sharply.
"Utterly devoted--beats only for my friend--"
"You mean her brother?"
"I mean her brother, yes, sir; though I have heard a rumor that
Sir Mortimer Carnaby--"
"Pooh!" said Barnabas.
"With pleasure, sir; but the fact remains that it was partly on his
account, and partly because of another, that she was dragged away
from London--"
"What other?"
"Well, let us say--H.
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