The Colonel then retired into a sort of ambuscade—­at least he mingled with a small clump of three Scotch firs, and stood amongst them so rectilinear he might have passed for the fourth stump.  Walter awaited the arrival of the foe, but in a spirit which has seldom conducted men to conquest and glory, for if the English infantry had deviated so far from their insular habits as to admire the Spaniards, you may be sure that Gibraltar rock at this day would be a part of the Continent, and not a detached fragment of Great Britain.  In a word, Walter, at sight of the lovers, was suddenly seized with sentimental sympathy; they both seemed to him so beautiful in their way.  The man was small, but his heart was not; he stuck to the woman like a man, and poured hot love into her ears, and almost lost the impediment in his speech.  The woman pretended to be cooler, but she half turned her head toward him, and her half-closed eyes and heightened color showed she was drinking every word.  Her very gayety, though it affected nonchalance, revealed happiness to such as can read below the surface of her sex.  The Colonel’s treacherous ally, after gazing at them with marked approval, and saying, “I couldn’t do it better myself,” which was surely a great admission for a lover to make, slipped quietly into Hope’s workshop not to spoil sport—­a juvenile idea which we recommend to older persons, and to such old maids as have turned sour.  The great majority of old maids are match-makers, whatever cant may keep saying and writing to the contrary.

“No wonder at all,” said Percy, who was evidently in the middle of some amorous speech; “you are the goddess of my idolatry.”

“What ardent expressions you do use!” said Julia, smiling.

“Of c-course I do; I’m over head and ears in love.”

Julia surveyed his proportions, and said, “That’s not very deep.”

But Percy had got used to this kind of wit, and did not mind it now.  He replied with dignity:  “It’s as deep—­as the ocean, and as imp-per-t-t-tur-bable.  Confound it! there’s your cousin.”

“You are not jealous of him, Mr. Imperturbable, are you?” asked Julia, slyly.

“Jealous?” said Percy, changing color rather suspiciously; “certainly not.  Hang him!”

Walter, finding he was discovered, and feeling himself in the way, came out at the back behind them, and said, “Never mind me, you two; far be it from me to deprive the young of their innocent amusements.”

Whilst making this little speech he was going off on the points of his toes, intending to slip off to Clifford Hall, and tell his father that both cutting out and untying had proved impossible, but, to his horror, the Colonel emerged from his ambuscade and collared him.  Then took place two short contemporaneous dialogues: 

Julia.  “I’d never marry a jealous man.”

Percy.  “I never could be jealous.  I’m above it.  Impossible for a nature like mine to be jealous.”