"One moment, Lady Littletown," said Litton eagerly; "I'm just starting a society for the preservation of ancient trees and old--"

"Now, _mon cher_, that will do," said the old lady decidedly. "You know I never give money or--"

"I only ask for your name as a patroness or supporter."

"And you will not have it; so now be a good boy, and go. I've got your name down upon my tablets, Arthur, so wait your time. Stop!"

The horses were checked; the footman descended and opened the door, rattling the steps loudly; Arthur Litton leaped out, raised his hat; Lady Littletown kissed the tips of her gloved fingers to him, and the carriage pa.s.sed on.

"I wonder whether she will," said the young man, as he walked towards the station. "However, we shall see."

Volume 1, Chapter X.

A DINNER FOR AN END.

"My income, my dears, just suffices for my wants," said Lady Littletown; "and I have never anything to spare for charities and that sort of thing."

So said her ladyship to her aristocratic friends living in pinched circ.u.mstances in the private apartments; and it may or may not have been intended for a hint not to try and borrow money.

"One would like to be charitable and to give largely, but what with one's household expenses and the horses and carriages, and my month in town in the height of the season, I really sometimes find myself obliged to ask his late lordship's agent for a few hundreds in advance of the time when the rents are due. But then, you see, one owes so much to one's position."

The Honourable Misses Dymc.o.x said one certainly did; Lady Anna Maria Morton, who had been longing for a new silk evening dress for three years, said the same; and, thoroughly feeling it to be a fact, Lady Littletown tried to pay honourably what she owed to society by rigidly living up to the last penny of her fairly handsome income in the pleasant mansion near Hampton Court.

She gave about four dinner-parties in the course of the year, and afterwards received.

This was one of her special parties for a special purpose, and when the last of her fifteen guests had arrived and been looked at through her great gold eyegla.s.s held with the left hand, while the tips of the fingers of the right were given in a.s.surance of her being "so delighted," her ladyship proceeded to marshal her forces for the procession to the dining-room.

"Here's what it is to be a lone widow!" she exclaimed playfully.

"Moorpark, might I ask you to take the foot of the table?--Miss Marie Riversley."

Lord Henry had murmured to himself a good deal about being dragged down all the way from Saint James's Square to Hampton just at a time when his heart told him that he ought to be married, and though terribly dissatisfied with the success which had attended his attentions to Gertrude Millet, his brain was full of her bright, refined features.

He, however, now advanced, quite the handsome, stately gentleman, with a pleasant, benevolent look upon his thin face, and at once entered into conversation with the dark beauty to whom he had been introduced.

"Mr Elbraham," continued Lady Littletown, in a confidential whisper, as she inspected him as if he were for sale, "would you oblige me?--Miss Dymc.o.x's niece."

The reputed millionaire started, and a scowl began to dawn in his face, for the name Dymc.o.x brought up the faces of the honourable sisters; but as he was led to dark, glowing, southern-faced Clotilde, the scowl reached no farther than its dawn, and the ruddy sun of his coa.r.s.e round face rose out of the fog, and beamed its satisfaction upon the handsome girl.

"Oh, I say, Glen, what a shame!" whispered little d.i.c.k Millet to his chosen companion, who, consequent upon his being an officer and the friend of dear Lady Millet's son, had been invited, like his major, to the feast.

d.i.c.k began grinding his white teeth in the corner, where he had been making eyes at Clotilde and Marie in turn, whichever looked in his direction; and for the moment he seemed as if he were going to tear either his curly hair or the dainty exotic from his b.u.t.ton-hole.

"Hush! be quiet," was the reply.

"Hurrah! viva!" whispered d.i.c.k again. "The Black Douglas is being tacked on to that old scrag."

"That old scrag" was the Honourable Philippa Dymc.o.x, and "the Black Douglas" Major Edward Malpas, who, probably from disappointment in connection with a late marriage, was contemplatively watching Clotilde; but his courtesy was perfect as he bent toward the Honourable Philippa.

"Now there's that other old she-dragon, Glen," whispered d.i.c.k. "Oh, I say, it's too bad of the old woman! I won't, that I won't. I didn't come here to be treated so, and if she says I'm to march in that dreadful skeleton I'll be taken ill and make a bolt of it. I say, Marcus," he continued, "my nose is going to bleed," and as he spoke he took out his delicately-scented pocket-handkerchief.

"Captain Glen, will you take in the Honourable Isabella Dymc.o.x?" said Lady Littletown, showing just a trifle of gold setting as she smiled.

Marcus Glen told the truth when he said he would be most happy, for he recognised in the lady of the old-fashioned lavender poplin one of the companions of Clotilde and Marie in their walk in the Palace gardens.

d.i.c.k Millet thrust his scented cambric back into the pocket of his silk-lined coat, and after a glance at the ladies, either of whom he longed to take in to dinner, he had a look round the room to see which would be the most eligible dinner-table companion of those that were left; but to his disgust he began to find that he was being left entirely in the cold, for the hostess, with all the skill of one who has well made her plans beforehand, was rapidly finishing her arrangements.

"It's enough to make any man's nose bleed, and compel him to bolt,"

muttered the handsome little fellow, who had got himself up in the most irreproachable manner, having even been to town that afternoon on purpose to place himself in a hairdresser's hands.

"Hang it all! am I n.o.body?"

It was hard work getting hold of the ends, but d.i.c.k managed to give a vicious twist to his delicate floss silk moustache, and he was contemplating a fresh appeal to his scented handkerchief and making the threatened bolt, as he termed it, with the cambric held to his nose, when Lady Littletown approached.

"Now, my dearest Richard," she exclaimed, and her many years, the speck of gold near one top tooth, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and the suggestions of untruthfulness about her hair, all seemed to be softened down and seen through an eyegla.s.s tinted _a la rose_, "I'm a very covetous person, and I always make a point, like the wicked old widow I am, of reserving the most _beau chevalier_ for myself. Now you have to take me in, we two last; and you'll be obliged to help me out of my difficulties if there is anything to carve."

d.i.c.k coloured a little with pride:

"And we, too, must have a pleasant chat about mamma and the dear girls; and, oh, I am so glad you took to the army and are quartered down here.

It will be so pleasant for me; but I shall, for mamma's sake, watch all your doings. I am not going to have you turn out a _roue_ like your wicked Major. Come along."

So d.i.c.k took in her ladyship, feeling taller, and actually seeming to swell a little, as he found himself seated at his hostess's right hand.

Then, the places being found, every guest's name neatly written on a porcelain _menu_, Lord Henry, at the foot of the table, closed his eyes, bent forward, and in a low, reverent voice said grace, to which Mr Elbraham added a very audible "Amen!" and the dinner commenced.

Of course it was all by way of paying her dues to society that things were done so well, for certainly the dinner was as exquisite as the table itself, with its decorations of plate and gla.s.s, amidst which, half hidden in almost a redundancy of exotic flowers, was a thoroughly choice dessert. Richard Millet, who rather trembled in the midst of his pride, and had twice in imagination seen wings of chicken, as he dismembered a bird, flying in a cloud of brown sauce into people's laps, was spared all trouble, for the viands were served _a la Russe_, and were perfect of their kind.

"I'm deuced glad I came," thought Mr Elbraham, as the choice, well-iced wines reached him in turn, and after several rather awkward attempts at conversation with Clotilde he found himself getting on much better. For his companion, in spite of her delight at being present at such a party, and having been affectionately kissed by Lady Littletown, and called "My dearest child," was disappointed because Captain Glen had not spoken to her, neither had he been chosen to take her in to dinner. But, then, he had looked at her--looked at her several times. He admired her. There was no doubt about that. His looks said so plainly; and, for her part, there was something very pleasant to her eyes in the well-built, manly fellow, with his easy, indifferent ways and his gentlemanly, chivalrous attention to her aunt; who, poor soul! was nervous, and fluttered with the unusual excitement.

"I don't like him; he's a dreadful creature," said Clotilde to herself, as her companion grew more at home, and, after a gla.s.s or two of a very choice champagne of unusual potency, began to talk to her in a fashion somewhat suggestive of his style at a private supper at the Rantan or at Latellier's, and ladies who were in the habit of performing show parts in public were present.

"I'm deuced glad I came. She's a devilish handsome girl, and I like her," thought Mr Elbraham, and during his next remark, of course inadvertently, his coat-sleeve touched Clotilde's firm, white, well-rounded arm.

"And so you lead a very quiet, very retired life," said Lord Henry to Marie, as, scarcely partaking of anything himself, he chivalrously devoted his attention to his companion, enjoying her evident delight and hearty young appet.i.te, which as a rule was none too well satisfied.

She, too, had been, in the midst of her delight in her charming dress, the reflection of her handsome self in Lady Littletown's mirror, that lady's affectionate greeting, and the brilliant dinner-table, rather disappointed that she had not been taken in by Captain Glen, or that dark handsome Major, or even by the funny pretty little page style of officer; but by degrees that wore off, and she listened with real pleasure to Lord Henry's words.

He was quite an elderly gentleman, but, then, he was a n.o.bleman, with a truer feeling of admiration for the beautiful woman he had been called upon to escort. There was something delightfully new, too, in her ways.

She was very different to the society young ladies he was accustomed to meet, all gush and strained style of conversation. Marie was as if fresh from a convent, and he was even amused with some of her naive remarks.

The Honourable Misses Dymc.o.x had given their nieces the most stringent instructions upon etiquette; above all, they were not to taste wine; but while Marie was answering a remark made by Lord Henry, one of the servants filled that faintly prismatic gla.s.s, like half a soap-bubble in its beauty, and from old habit Marie lifted the drinking vessel by her hand, tasted, found the clear sparkling wine delicious, and had sipped again and again.

The effect was trifling, but it did remove some of her diffidence, and she found herself chatting willingly enough to her cavalier.

"Oh yes; a very, very retired life. We spend most of our time in the schoolroom, and when we take walks it is in the gardens or in the park with our aunts, at times when none of the London people are down."

"Have you been on the Continent?"

"Oh no," replied Marie, "not since Mr Montaigne brought us over to the Palace?"

"May I ask who is Mr Montaigne?"