Gideon pled in vain to be allowed to join the party. 'No, Gid,' said his
uncle. 'You will be watched; you must keep away from us.' Nor had the
barrister ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he feared if
he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr Bloomfield might weary of the
whole affair. And his discretion was rewarded; for the Squirradical,
laying a heavy hand upon his nephew's shoulder, had added these notable
expressions: 'I see what you are after, Gid. But if you're going to get
the girl, you have to work, sir.'
These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all day, as he sat
reading in chambers; they continued to form the ground-base of his manly
musings as he was whirled to Hampton Court; even when he landed at the
station, and began to pull himself together for his delicate interview,
the voice of Uncle Ned and the eyes of Julia were not forgotten.
But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton Court there was no
Kurnaul Villa, no Count Tarnow, and no count. This was strange; but,
viewed in the light of the incoherency of his instructions, not perhaps
inexplicable; Mr Dickson had been lunching, and he might have made some
fatal oversight in the address.
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