“There is some misconception, I mean,” said Johnny.
“Mother!” said Madalina, turning her eyes from her recreant lover to her tender parent; trembling all over, but still keeping her hand extended. “Mother!”
“My darling! But leave him to me, dearest. Compose yourself.”
“ ’Twas the word that he said—this moment; before he pressed me to his heart.”
“I thought you were fainting,” said Johnny.
“Sir!” And Lady Demolines, as she spoke, shook her crest, and glared at him, and almost flew at him in her armour.
“It may be that nature has given way with me, and that I have been in a dream,” said Madalina.
“That which mine eyes saw was no dream,” said Lady Demolines. “Mr. Eames, I have given to you the sweetest name that can fall from an old woman’s lips. I have called you my son.”
“Yes, you did, I know. But, as I said before, there is some mistake. I know how proud I ought to be, and how happy, and all that kind of thing. But—” Then there came a screech from Madalina, which would have awakened the dead, had there been any dead in that house. The page and the cook, however, took no notice of it, whether they were awakened or not. And having screeched, Madalina stood erect upon the floor, and she also glared upon her recreant lover. The dragon and the tiger were there before him now, and he knew that it behoved him to look to himself. As he had a battle to fight, might it not be best to put a bold face upon it? “The truth is,” said he, “that I don’t understand this kind of thing at all.”
“Not understand it, sir?” said the dragon.
“Leave him to me, mother,” said the tigress, shaking her head again, but with a kind of shake differing from that which she had used before. “This is my business, and I’ll have it out for myself. If he thinks I’m going to put up with his nonsense he’s mistaken. I’ve been straightforward and above board with you, Mr. Eames, and I expect to be treated in the same way in return. Do you mean to tell my mother that you deny that we are engaged?”
“Well; yes; I do. I’m very sorry, you know, if I seem to be uncivil—”
“It’s because I’ve no brother,” said the tigress. “He thinks that I have no man near me to protect me. But he shall find that I can protect myself. John Eames, why are you treating me like this?”
“I shall consult my cousin the serjeant tomorrow,” said the dragon. “In the meantime he must remain in this house. I shall not allow the front door to be unlocked for him.”
This, I think, was the bitterest moment of all to Johnny. To be confined all night in Lady Demolines’ drawing-room would, of itself, be an intolerable nuisance. And then the absurdity of the thing, and the story that would go abroad! And what should he say to the dragon’s cousin the serjeant, if the serjeant should be brought upon the field before he was able to escape from it? He did not know what a serjeant might not do to him in such circumstances. There was one thing no serjeant should do, and no dragon! Between them all they should never force him to marry the tigress. At this moment Johnny heard a tramp along the pavement, and he rushed to the window. Before the dragon or even the tigress could arrest him, he had thrown up the sash, and had appealed in his difficulty to the guardian of the night. “I say, old fellow,” said Johnny, “don’t you stir from that till I tell you.” The policeman turned his bull’s-eye upon the window, and stood perfectly motionless. “Now, if you please, I’ll say good night,” said Johnny. But, as he spoke he still held the open window in his hand.
“What means this violence in my house?” said the dragon.
“Mamma, you had better let him go,” said the tigress. “We shall know where to find him.”
“You will certainly be able to find me,” said Johnny.
“Go,” said the dragon, shaking her crest—shaking all her armour at him, “dastard, go!”
“Policeman,” shouted Johnny, while he still held the open window in his hand, “mind you don’t stir till I come out.” The bull’s-eye was shifted a little, but the policeman spoke never a word.
“I wish you good night, Lady Demolines,” said Johnny. “Good night, Miss Demolines.” Then he left the window and made a run for the door. But the dragon was there before him.
“Let him go, mamma,” said the tigress as she closed the window. “We shall only have a rumpus.”
“That will be all,” said Johnny. “There isn’t the slightest use in your trying to keep me here.”
“And are we never to see you again?” said the tigress, almost languishing again with one eye.
“Well; no. What would be the use? No man likes to be shut in, you know.”
“Go then,” said the tigress; “but if you think that this is to be the end of it, you’ll find yourself wonderfully mistaken. You poor false, drivelling creature! Lily Dale won’t touch you with a pair of tongs. It’s no use your going to her.”
“Go away, sir, this moment, and don’t contaminate my room an instant longer by your presence,” said the dragon, who had observed through the window that the bull’s-eye was still in full force before the house. Then John Eames withdrew, and descending into the hall made his way in the dark to the front door. For aught he knew there might still be treachery in regard to the lock; but his heart was comforted as he heard the footfall of the policeman on the doorstep. With much fumbling he succeeded at last in turning the key and drawing the bolt, and then he found himself at liberty in the street. Before he even spoke
