The irate father of the erring one
coincided with this view of things, and a speedy marriage was the
result. "Not guilty--but she mustn't do so again!" had evidently been
the verdict of society.
A few months later, in 1818, Sir Peregrine Maitland, his affairs of
love happily settled, was appointed ruler of Upper Canada, where his
attention was turned to affairs of State. But there was one subject in
connection with his courtship-days which had never been satisfactorily
settled, and upon which he did not venture to question his wife until
several years had elapsed. Then, late one afternoon, it recurred to
him in that unaccountable way in which bygone events are accustomed to
rise at odd times and lay claim to the attention.
"Dear," he said, "why did you object to my kissing your hand the
evening you called on me in Paris?"
"You may lay out the corn-coloured silk, Emma," said Lady Sarah to her
maid, who came that moment with an inquiry upon toilette matters. Then
as the girl disappeared she resumed her novel, peeping over the top of
it at her husband.
"As though I wanted you to kiss my _hand_!" she said.
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