"Who, Bunting!" said Walter smiling, "the lady or the trout?"
"Augh!—baugh!—what? Oh, laughing at me, your honour, you're welcome, Sir. Love's a silly thing—know the world now—have not fallen in love these ten years. I doubt—no offence, Sir, no offence—I doubt whether your honour and Miss Ellinor can say as much."
"I and Miss Ellinor!—you forge yourself strangely, Bunting," said Walter, colouring with anger.
"Beg pardon, Sir, beg pardon—rough soldier—lived away from the world so long, words slipped out of my mouth—absent without leave."
"But why," said Walter, smothering or conquering his vexation,—"why couple me with Miss Ellinor? Did you imagine that we,—we were in love with each other?"
"Indeed, Sir, and if I did, 'tis no more than my neighbours imagine too."
"Humph! your neighbours are very silly, then, and very wrong."
"Beg pardon, Sir, again—always getting askew. Indeed some did say it was Miss Madeline, but I
