"The tall gentleman with so superb an air," the poor man said, proudly,
trembling with triumphant joy, "is my lord Marquess of Roxholm, and he
is the heir of the ducal house of Osmonde, and promises me patronage."
When they passed out into the street and were on their way to St.
James's Park, Tom Tantillion was in a state of much interested
excitement.
"What shall you do with it, Roxholm?" he asked. "Have it set in a rich
gold frame and hung up on the gallery at Osmonde House--or in the
country? Good Lord! I dare not have carried her to my lodgings if I
could have bought her. She would be too high company for me and keep me
on my best manners too steady. A man dare not play the fool with such a
creature staring at him from the wall. 'Tis only a man who is a hero,
and a stately mannered one, who could stay in the same room with her
without being put out of countenance. Will she rule in the gallery in
town or in the country?"
"She will not be framed or hung, but laid away," answered Roxholm. "I
bought her that no ill-mannered rake or braggart should get her and be
insolent to her in her own despite when she could not strike him to his
knees and box his ears, as she did the Chaplain's--being only a woman
painted on canvas." And he showed his white, strong teeth a little in a
strange smile.
"What!" cried Tom. "You did not buy her for your own pleasure----?"
The Marquess stopped with a sudden movement.
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