Opening her grammar, she whispered, "You are either a very dull or a
very modest man!" and, sighing, began to repeat her lesson.
While he bent his head over the sheet he was correcting; she suddenly
exclaimed, "Bless me, Mr. Constantine, what have you been doing? I
hope you don't read in bed! The top of your hair is burnt to a
cinder! Why, you look much more like one who has been in a fire than
Miss Beaufort does."
Thaddeus put his hand to his head.
"I thought I had brushed away all marks of a fire, in which I really
was last night."
"A fire!" interrupted Miss Beaufort, closing her book; "was it near
Tottenham Court Road?"
"It was, madam," answered he, in a tone almost as surprised as her
own.
"Good gracious!" cried Euphemia, exerting her little voice, that she
might be heard before Miss Beaufort could have time to reply; "then I
vow you are the gentleman who Miss Beaufort said ran into the burning
house, and, covered with flames, saved two children from perishing!"
"And I am so happy as to meet one of the ladies," replied he, turning
with an animated air to Miss Beaufort, "in you, madam, who so
humanely assisted the poor sufferers, and received the child from my
arms?"
"It was indeed myself, Mr. Constantine," returned she, a tear
swimming over her eye, which in a moment gave the cue to the tender
Euphemia. She drew out her handkerchief; and whilst her pretty cheeks
overflowed, and her sweet voice was rendered sweeter by an emotion
raised by ten thousand delightful fancies, she took hold of Miss
Beaufort's hand.
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