His coach door was opened. He sat
upright, levelling his privileged stare at Duchess Susan until she
blushed.
'Ay, madam,' quoth he, 'I am not the first.'
'La, sir!' said she; 'who are you?'
The beau deliberately raised his hat and bowed. 'He, madam, of whose
approach the gentleman who took his leave of you on yonder elevation
informed you.'
She looked artlessly over her shoulder, and at the beau alighting from
his carriage. 'A gentleman?'
'On horseback.'
The duchess popped her head through the window on an impulse to measure
the distance between the two hills.
'Never!' she cried.
'Why, madam, did he deliver no message to announce me?' said the beau,
ruffling.
'Goodness gracious! You must be Mr. Beamish,' she replied.
He laid his hat on his bosom, and invited her to quit her carriage for a
seat beside him. She stipulated, 'If you are really Mr. Beamish?' He
frowned, and raised his head to convince her; but she would not be
impressed, and he applied to Chloe to establish his identity. Hearing
Chloe's name, the duchess called out, 'Oh! there, now, that's enough, for
Chloe's my maid here, and I know she's a lady born, and we're going to be
friends. Hand me to Chloe. And you are Chloe?' she said, after a frank
stride from step to step of the carriages. 'And don't mind being my
maid? You do look a nice, kind creature. And I see you're a lady born;
I know in a minute.
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