"Then why not--" He was going to say, "Why not marry her yourself?" but the fear of taking such a liberty with his distinguished friend just caught him in time and stopped him.

"I 'll tell you why not," said Maitland, replying to the unuttered question. "If you have ever dined at a civic _fete_ you 'll have remarked that there is some one dish or other the most gluttonous alderman will suffer to pa.s.s untasted,--a sort of sacrifice offered to public opinion. And so it is, an intensely worldly man, as people are polite enough to regard me, must show, every now and then, that there are temptations which he is able to resist. Marrying for money is one of these. I might speculate in a bubble company, I might traffic in cotton shares, or even 'walk into' my best friend al faro, but I mustn't marry for money,--that's positive."

"But apparently _I_ might," said Mark, sulkily.

"You might," replied Maitland, with calm dignity of manner.

"It is a privilege of which I do not mean to avail myself," said Mark, while his face was flushed with temper. "Do you know that your friends the Grahams are here?"

"Yes; I caught a glimpse of the fair Rebecca slipping sideways through life on a jaunting-car."

"And there's the old Commodore tramping over the house, and worrying every one with his complaints that you have turned him out of his rooms here,--rooms dedicated to his comfort for the last thirty years."

"Reason enough to surrender them now. Men quit even the Treasury benches to give the Opposition a turn of office."

"He 's a quarrelsome old blade, too," said Mark, "particularly if he suspects he's been 'put upon.'"

"No blame to him for that."

"A word or two, said as you well know how to say it, will set all right; or a line, perhaps, saying that having accidentally heard from me--"

"No, no, Mark. Written excuses are like undated acceptances, and they may be presented unexpectedly to you years after you 've forgotten them.

I 'll tell the Commodore that I shall not inconvenience him beyond a day or two, for I mean to start by the end of the week."

"They expect you to come back with us. Alice told me you had promised."

"_L'homme propose_," said he, sighing. "By the way, I saw that young fellow you told me about,--Butler; a good-looking fellow, too, well limbed and well set up, but not a marvel of good-breeding or tact."

"Did he attempt any impertinences with _you?_" asked Mark, in a tone of amazement.

"Not exactly; he was not, perhaps, as courteous as men are who care to make a favorable impression; but he is not, as you suspected,--he is not a sn.o.b."

"Indeed!" said Mark, reddening; for, though provoked and angry, he did not like to contest the judgment of Norman Maitland on such a point.

"You 'll delight my sisters by this expression of your opinion; for my own part, I can only say I don't agree with it."

"The more reason not to avow it, Lyle. Whenever you don't mean very well by a man, never abuse him, since, after that, all your judgments of him become _suspect_. Remember that where you praise you can detract; n.o.body has such unlimited opportunities to poison as the doctor. There, now,--there's a bit of Machiavelism to think over as you dress for dinner, and I see it's almost time to do so."

CHAPTER XXII. THE DINNER AT TILNEY.

When Maitland entered the drawing-room before dinner, the Commodore was standing in the window-recess pondering over in what way he should receive him; while Sally and Beck sat somewhat demurely watching the various presentations to which Mrs. Maxwell was submitting her much-valued guest. At last Maitland caught sight of where they sat, and hurried across the room to shake hands with them, and declare the delight he felt at meeting them. "And the Commodore, is he here?"

"Yes; I 'll find him for you," said Beck, not sorry to display before her country acquaintance the familiar terms she stood on with the great Mr. Maitland.

With what a frank cordiality did he shake the old sailor's hand, and how naturally came that laugh about nothing, or something very close to nothing, that Graham said, in allusion to the warm quarters they found themselves in. "Such Madeira!" whispered he, "and some old '34 claret.

By the way, you forgot your promise to taste mine."

"I 'll tell you how that occurred when we 've a quiet moment together,"

said Maitland, in a tone of such confidential meaning that the old man was rea.s.sured at once. "I 've a good deal to say to you; but we 'll have a morning together. You know every one here? Who is that with all the medals on his coat?"

"General Carnwroth; and that old woman with the blue turban is his wife; and these are the Grimsbys; and that short man with the bald head is Holmes of Narrow Bank, and the good-looking girl there is his niece,--and heiress too."

"What red arms she has!" whispered Maitland.

"So they are, by Jove!" said Graham, laughing; "and I never noticed it before."

"Take me in to dinner," said Mrs. Trafford, in a low voice, as she swept past Maitland.

"I can't. Mrs. Maxwell has ordered me to give her my arm," said he, following her; and they went along for some paces, conversing.

"Have you made your peace with the Grahams?" asked she, smiling half maliciously.

"In a fashion; at least, I have put off the settling-day."

"If you take to those morning rambles again with the fair Rebecca, I warn you it will not be so easy to escape an explanation. Here's Mrs.

Maxwell come to claim you."

Heaving with fat and velvet and bugles and vulgar good-humor, the old lady leaned heavily on Maitland's arm, really proud of her guest, and honestly disposed to show him that she deemed his presence an honor. "It seems like a dream to me," said she, "to see you here after reading of your name so often in the papers at all the great houses in England. I never fancied that old Tilney would be so honored."

It was not easy to acknowledge such a speech, and even Maitland's self-possession was pushed to its last limits by it; but this awkward feeling soon pa.s.sed away under the genial influence of the pleasant dinner. And it was as pleasant a dinner as good fare and good wine and a well-disposed company could make it.

At first a slight sense of reserve, a shade of restraint, seemed to hold conversation in check, and more particularly towards where Maitland sat, showing that a certain dread of him could be detected amongst those who would have fiercely denied if charged with such a sentiment.

The perfect urbanity, tinctured, perhaps, with a sort of racy humor, with which Maitland acknowledged the old Commodore's invitation to take wine with him, did much to allay this sense of distrust. "I say, Maitland," cried he, from the foot of the table, "are you too great a dandy to drink a gla.s.s of wine with me?"

A very faint flush colored Maitland's cheek, but a most pleasant smile played on his mouth as he said, "I am delighted, my dear Commodore,--delighted to repudiate the dandyism and enjoy the claret at the same time."

"They tell me it's vulgar and old-fashioned, and I don't know what else, to take wine with a man," resumed the old sailor, encouraged by his success to engage a wider attention.

"I only object to the custom when practised at a royal table," said Maitland, "and where it obliges you to rise and drink your wine standing." As some of the company were frank enough to own that they heard of the etiquette for the first time, and others, who affected to be conversant with it, ingeniously shrouded their ignorance, the conversation turned upon the various traits which characterize different courtly circles; and it was a theme Maitland knew how to make amusing,--not vaingloriously displaying himself as a foreground figure, or even detailing the experiences as his own, but relating his anecdotes with all the modest diffidence of one who was giving his knowledge at second-hand.

The old General was alone able to cap stories with Maitland on this theme, and told with some gusto an incident of his first experiences at Lisbon. "We had," said he, "a young attache to our Legation there; I am talking of, I regret to say, almost fifty years ago. He was a very good-looking young fellow, quite fresh from England, and not very long, I believe, from Eton. In pa.s.sing through the crowd of the ball-room, a long streamer of lace which one of the Princesses wore in her hair caught in the attache's epaulette. He tried in vain to extricate himself, but, fearing to tear the lace, he was obliged to follow the Infanta about, his confusion making his efforts only the more hopeless.

'Where are you going, sir? What do you mean by this persistence?' asked a sour-faced old lady-of-honor, as she perceived him still after them.

'I am attached to her Royal Highness,' said he, in broken French, 'and I cannot tear myself away.' The Infanta turned and stared at him, and then instantly burst out a-laughing, but so good-humoredly withal, and with such an evident forgiveness, that the duenna became alarmed, reported the incident to the Queen, and the next morning our young countryman got his orders to leave Lisbon at once."

While the company commented on the incident, the old General sighed sorrowfully,--over the long past, perhaps,--and then said, "He did not always get out of his entanglements so easily."

"You knew him, then?" asked some one.

"Slightly; but I served for many years with his brother, Wat Butler, as good a soldier as ever wore the cloth."

"Are you aware that his widow and son are in this neighborhood?" asked Mrs. Trafford.

"No; but it would give me great pleasure to see them. Wat and I were in the same regiment in India. I commanded the company when he joined us.

And how did he leave them?"

"On short rations," broke in old Graham. "Indeed, if It was n't for Lyle Abbey, I suspect very hard up at times."