At this time Neigh was very comfortably lounging in an arm-chair in Ethelberta’s room on the second floor.  This was a pleasant enough way of passing the minutes with such a tender interview in prospect; and as he leant he looked with languid and luxurious interest through the open casement at the spars and rigging of some luggers on the Seine, the pillars of the suspension bridge, and the scenery of the Faubourg St. Sever on the other side of the river.  How languid his interest might ultimately have become there is no knowing; but there soon arose upon his ear the accents of Ethelberta in low distinctness from somewhere outside the room.

‘Yes; the scene is pleasant to-day,’ she said.  ’I like a view over a river.’

‘I should think the steamboats are objectionable when they stop here,’ said another person.

Neigh’s face closed in to an aspect of perplexity.  ’Surely that cannot be Lord Mountclere?’ he muttered.

Had he been certain that Ethelberta was only talking to a stranger, Neigh would probably have felt their conversation to be no business of his, much as he might have been surprised to find her giving audience to another man at such a place.  But his impression that the voice was that of his acquaintance, Lord Mountclere, coupled with doubts as to its possibility, was enough to lead him to rise from the chair and put his head out of the window.

Upon a balcony beneath him were the speakers, as he had suspected—­Ethelberta and the viscount.

Looking right and left, he saw projecting from the next window the head of his friend Ladywell, gazing right and left likewise, apparently just drawn out by the same voice which had attracted himself.

‘What—­you, Neigh!—­how strange,’ came from Ladywell’s lips before he had time to recollect that great coolness existed between himself and Neigh on Ethelberta’s account, which had led to the reduction of their intimacy to the most attenuated of nods and good-mornings ever since the Harlequin-rose incident at Cripplegate.

‘Yes; it is rather strange,’ said Neigh, with saturnine evenness.  ’Still a fellow must be somewhere.’

Each then looked over his window-sill downwards, upon the speakers who had attracted them thither.

Lord Mountclere uttered something in a low tone which did not reach the young men; to which Ethelberta replied, ’As I have said, Lord Mountclere, I cannot give you an answer now.  I must consider what to do with Mr. Neigh and Mr. Ladywell.  It is too sudden for me to decide at once.  I could not do so until I have got home to England, when I will write you a letter, stating frankly my affairs and those of my relatives.  I shall not consider that you have addressed me on the subject of marriage until, having received my letter, you—­’

‘Repeat my proposal,’ said Lord Mountclere.

‘Yes.’

’My dear Mrs. Petherwin, it is as good as repeated!  But I have no right to assume anything you don’t wish me to assume, and I will wait.  How long is it that I am to suffer in this uncertainty?’