"It is Mrs. Poynsett's regular Christmas party," said Rosamond, not deigning any other reply.

"I congratulate her on her skilful representatives," said Lady Tyrrell. "May I ask if we are to see the hero of the day? No?

What! you would say better employed? Poor children, we must let them alone to-night for their illusion, though I am sorry it should be deepened; it will be only the more pain by and by."

"I don't see that," said Rosamond, stoutly.

"Ah! Lady Rosamond, you are a happy young bride, untaught what is l'impossible." Rosamond could not help thinking that no one understood it better than she, as the eldest of a large family with more rank and far more desires than means; but she disliked Lady Tyrrell far too much for even her open nature to indulge in confidences, and she made a successful effort to escape from her neighbourhood by putting two pale female Fullers into the place of honour in front of the folding doors into the small drawing-room, which served as a stage, and herself hovered about the rear, wishing she could find some means of silencing Miss Moy's voice, which was growing louder and more boisterous than ever.

The charade which Rosamond had expected was the inoffensive, if commonplace, Inspector, and the window she beheld, when the curtain drew up, was, she supposed, the bar of an inn. But no; on the board were two heads, ideals of male and female beauty, one with a waxed moustache, the other with a huge chignon, vividly recalling Mr.

Pettitt's Penates. Presently came by a dapper professor, in blue spectacles and a college cap, who stood contemplating, and indulging in a harangue on entities and molecules, spirit and matter, affinities and development, while the soft deep brown eyes of the chignoned head languished, and the blue ones of the moustached one rolled, and the muscles twitched and the heads turned till, by a strong process of will explained by the professor, they bent their necks, erected themselves, and finally started into life and the curtain fell on them with clasped hands!

It rose to show the newly-animated pair, Junius Brutus and Barberina his wife, at the breakfast table, with a boar's head of brawn before them, while the Lady Barberina boldly asserted her claims to the headship of the house. Had she not lately been all head?

The pathetic reply was, "Would it were so still, my dear. All head and no tongue, like our present meal."

The lady heaved up the boar's head to throw at him, and the scene closed.

Next, Brutus was seen awkwardly cleaning his accoutrements, having enlisted, as he soliloquized, to escape from woman.

Enter a sergeant with a rich Irish brogue, and other recruits, forming the awkward squad. The drill was performed with immense spirit, but only one of the soldiers showed any dexterity; but while the sergeant was upholding him as 'the very moral of a patthern to the rest,' poor Brutus was seized with agonizing horror at the recognition of Barberina in this disguise!

"Why not?" she argued. "Why should not woman learn to use the arms of which man has hitherto usurped the use?"

Poor Brutus stretched out his arms in despair, and called loudly for the professor to restore him to his original state of silent felicity in the barber's window.

"Ye needn't do that, me boy," quoth the sergeant with infinite scorn. "Be ye where ye will, ye'll never be aught but a blockhead."

Therewith carriages were being announced to the heads of families; and with compliments and eager thanks, and assurances that nothing could have been more delightful, the party broke up.

Captain Duncombe, while muffling his boys, declared that he never saw a cleverer hit in his life, and that those two De Lancey brothers ought to be on the stage; while Miss Moy loudly demanded whether he did not feel it personal; and Mrs. Tallboys, gracefully shaking hands with Anne and Rosamond, declared it a grand challenge where the truth had been unconsciously hit off. Cecil was nowhere to be seen.

CHAPTER XVIII Demonstrations

Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.--BURNS

The hours of the soiree had been early; but the breakfast was so irregular and undecided as to time, that no one took much notice of an intimation which Jenkins had received from the grim Mrs.

Grindstone that Mrs, Charnock Poynsett would take breakfast in her own room. Indeed, they all felt glad that her views of etiquette did not bind them to their places; for Frank was burning to be off to Sirenwood, forgetting that it was far easier to be too early than too late for Sir Harry Vivian, who was wont to smoke till long after midnight, and was never visible till the midday repast.

And thus it was Lady Tyrrell who came to Frank alone. "Early afoot," she said; "you foolish, impatient fellow! You _will_ outrun my best advice."

"Ah! but I'm armed. I always told you we might trust to my mother, and it is all right. She loves Lenore with all her heart, and consents freely and gladly."

"Indeed! Well, the dear child has made her conquest!"

"I always knew she would when once reserve was broken down."

"Did you get up the alarm on purpose?"

"Really, one would think I had done so. One such moment was worth years of ordinary meetings! Half the battle is won!"

"Have you seen your mother this morning?"

"No; but she knew I was coming."

"Then you do not know what her feelings are on cooler reflection?"

"My mother would never retract what she has once assured me of,"

said Frank, haughtily.

"Forgive me--of what has she assured you?"

"That she regards Eleonora as a dear daughter, and that implies doing the same for me as for my brothers. If Sir Harry would but be so good as to come and see her--'

"Stay, Frank, you have not come that length. You forget that if you have, as you say, gained half the battle, there is another half; and that my father very reasonably feels hurt at being the last to be favoured with the intelligence."

"Dear Lady Tyrrell, you can see how it was. There was no helping it when once I could speak to Lenore; and then no one would have let me utter a word till I had gone through the examination. We never meant to go on a system of concealment; but you know how every one would have raved and stormed if I had betrayed a thought beyond old Driver, and yet it was only being at rest about Lenore that carried me through without breaking down. Can't you see?"

"You special pleader! May you win over my father; but you must remember that we are a fallen house, unable to do all we wish."

"If I might see Sir Harry! I must make him forgive me."

"I will see whether he is ready."

Could Frank's eyes have penetrated the walls, he would have seen Lady Tyrrell received with the words, "Well, my dear, I hope you have got rid of the young man--poor fellow!"

"I am afraid that cannot be done without your seeing him yourself."

"Hang it! I hate it! I can't abide it, Camilla. He's a nice lad, though he is his mother's son; and Lenore's heart is set on him, and I can't bear vexing the child."

"Lena cares for him only because she met him before she knew what life is like. After one season she will understand what five hundred a year means."

"Well, you ought to know your sister best; but if the lad has spoken to her, Lena is not the girl to stand his getting his conge so decidedly."

"Exactly; it would only lead to heroics, and deepen the mischief."

"Hang it! Then what do you want me to say?"

"Stand up for your rights, and reduce him to submission by displeasure at not having been consulted. Then explain how there can be no engagement at once; put him on his honour to leave her free till after her birthday in November."

"What! have him dangling after her? That's no way to make her forget him."

"She never will under direct opposition--she is too high-spirited for that; but if we leave it alone, and they are unpledged, there is a fair chance of her seeing the folly both for her and for him."

"I don't know that. Lena may be high-flown; but things go deep with the child--deeper than they did with you, Camilla!"