"Not--you don't mean--abroad, mam, in--in 'em?"

"I do, sir, I do! She swaggered down the Mall, sir ogling the women, and finding me alone and I not knowing her, she did so leer and nudge me that I all but swooned 'twixt fear and modesty, sir!"

"Good G.o.d!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Major, faintly, "was she--alone, madam?"

"She was with her naughty brother Charles and methought he'd die of his unseemly mirth. A wild youth, indeed and she hath the same lawless spirit, sir. All their motherless days I have cared for 'em and what with their waywardness and my own high-strung nature--O me!"

"I can conceive your days have not been--uneventful, mam."

"Charles is known to you, of course, sir?"

"No, mam."

"But your nephew Pancras and he are greatly intimate!"

"I've never even heard of him, madam."

"Why then you don't know that poor, naughty, misguided Charles is--hush, they come! Yonder, sir--O Cupid, a ravishing couple!"

Lady Betty and the Viscount were approaching them, quarrelling as usual, she bright-eyed and flushed of cheek, he handsome, debonair and unutterably serene.

"A truly n.o.ble pair, dear Major!" sighed Lady Belinda.

"Indeed, yes, mam!"

"'Twould be an excellent match?"

"Excellent!"

"Both so well suited, so rich, so handsome----"

"And so--young, mam!"

"O sir, I yearn to have 'em married!" The Major was silent. "'Twould tame her wildness, I warrant. How think you?"

"Belike it would, madam."

"Then let us conspire together for their good, dear sir! Let us wed 'em as soon as may be--come?"

"But mam, I--er---indeed, madam, I know nought of such things I----"

"Nay sir, never doubt but we shall contrive it betwixt us. 'Tis then agreed--O 'twill be pure! Henceforth we are conspirators, dear Major, O 'tis ravishing! Hush--yonder come the gentlemen to make their adieux, I think--let us meet 'em!"

As one in a dream the Major gave her his hand and together they rejoined the company who took leave of their host with much bowing of backs, flirting of ruffles, flicking of handkerchiefs and tapping of snuff-boxes. As the Major stood to watch their departure my lady Betty beckoned him to her side:

"And pray, dear sir, hath my aunt recounted you all my sins?" she enquired soft-voiced.

"I have learned you can milk a cow and felicitate you----"

"Of course she told you how I wore breeches, sir?"

The Major gasped, and stood before her blushing and mute; perceiving which, she laughed:

"Indeed, they become me vastly well!" she murmured, and sank before him in the stateliest of curtseys. "Au revoir, my dear Major Jack!" she laughed and giving her hand to an attendant adorer, moved away down the drive with all the gracious dignity of a young G.o.ddess.

Long after the gay company had vanished from sight Major d'Arcy stood there, head bowed, hands deep-plunged in coat pockets and with the flush still burning upon his bronzed cheek.

CHAPTER XII

THE VISCOUNT DISCOURSES ON SARTORIAL ART

Viscount Merivale sighed ecstatic.

"Beautiful!" he murmured. "O beautiful, nunky! Here we have perfection of fit, excellence of style, harmony of colour and graciousness of line!"

"Colour," reflected the Major, "is't not a little fevered, Tom, a little--hectic as 'twere?"

"Hectic--O impiety! You are a sentient rhapsody, a breathing poem, sir, blister me!"

The Major regarded his reflection in the mirror dubious and askance; his plum-coloured, gold-braided coat, his gorgeous embroidered waistcoat, his clocked stockings and elegant French shoes; his critical glance roved from flowing new periwig to flashing diamond shoe-buckles and he blinked.

"I find myself something too dazzling, Tom!"

"Entirely _a la mode_, sir, let me perish!"

"A little too--exotic, Tom!"

"Rat me sir--no, not a particle."

"And I feel uncomfortably stiff in 'em----"

"But, sir, reflect on the joy you confer on the beholder!"

"True, I had forgot that!" said the Major smiling.

"You are a joy to the eye nunky, an inspiration, you are, I vow you are. If your breeches cramp you, suffer 'em, if your coat gall you, endure it for the sake o' the world in general--be unselfish, sir.

Look at me--on state occasions my garments pinch me infernally, cause me pasitive torture, sir, but I endure for the sake of others, sir."

"You are a martyr, Tom."

"Gad love me, sir, 'tis so, a man of fashion must be. So there you stand as gay a young spark as ever ruffled it----"

"These shoe-buckles, now," mused the Major, "here was an egregious folly and waste of money----"

"Nay, you could afford 'em, sir, and there's nothing can show your true man of taste like an elegant foot."