Chapter XV: A Pleasant Dinner-Party

Lady Horatia most kindly superintended my toilette for the dinner-party that day, and made me wear one of my own simple muslin dresses, which had been a little altered by Madame Rosalie; and she placed a spray of white stephanotis in my hair, which she gathered from their own conservatory.

The little Marquis of Lorrington was the first to arrive; and then a fat, large man, who, I heard, was the greatest wit of the day. After that, a short, interesting-looking pale one (who was said to be a celebrated poet), and a little old lady, who seemed very short-sighted, but had a most pleasing expression and tone of voice. She was reckoned the most agreeable woman in London.

Lord Lorrington had sat down by me when he came, and began to talk very quickly, and to tell me about the others as they came in; but I was glad when the pale poet came and seated himself on the other side of me, with an arch look, as if he intended to monopolize my attention.

“I always choose to sit by the youngest and prettiest of the party,” he said. And then he talked very agreeably, in a slow and pleasant, though somewhat nasal voice. Although he spoke chiefly to me, he did not exclude Lord Lorrington--on the contrary, it seemed to me as if he wished to draw out whatever of good or agreeable there might be found in the young Marquis, who evidently had sufficient humility to look up to the old poet with much respect, although he did not seem to like the interruption to our _tête-à-tête_ at first.

Another lady and gentleman arrived after we had talked for some little time; and it was now so late that I began to fear that Sir Alfred would not come. Could Lady Horatia have put him off? I was confirmed in this apprehension by seeing her ring the bell and order dinner; and my disappointment must have been shown in my face, for the old poet whispered in my ear,

“Ah! you were expecting somebody else, who has not come.”

At that moment dinner was announced, and Lady Horatia, after sending the other guests down, took Lord Lorrington’s arm, and the poet offered his to me.

“I am lucky,” he said, “but I would not have given you up even if the right person had arrived. But, my dear child, take an old man’s advice, and unless _he_, the right one, is very, very good, don’t throw away your chance of that young Marquis; there is more good in him than you think of. I wish he may find a nice, pretty wife soon; and I think--I think, if you could love him as he deserves--I’m not sure, though. You have a fine nature, but something has gone wrong with you. Is it the loss of your property? That was certainly a great trial. Ah! we are to go to the top. Lady Horatia wants you to sit near the Marquis, I see.”

So I found myself between them again, and just after we sat down I saw Sir Alfred come into the room. He went up to Lady Horatia and apologised for being so late, then shook hands with me, or rather pressed my hand with a soft, lingering touch which made me blush with delight, and went to take the only vacant place at the farther end of the table. I believe that neither of my neighbours had seen me blush, but I saw that Lady Horatia’s quick eyes perceived it; so I began to talk very volubly to Lord Lorrington, for I was much afraid of the poet’s quickness of perception; but a little time afterwards, the poet said to me--

“Yes, he is very handsome, and has some genius; but, my dear young lady, pray don’t fall in love with him.”

“With whom?” I inquired, as innocently as I could, as I felt that my cheek was getting most provokingly red.

“You know whom I mean, I see; but I hope he’s not the one you expected, because you must not think of him.”

How very strange this second warning seemed! What could he know?

“Why?--is it because he plays?” I asked.

“There are many reasons,” he said, with a solemn voice. “Take my advice, don’t dream of him--don’t be foolish--it would never do.” I was afraid Lady Horatia would hear us, so I began to talk of other things; and as I soon saw that Sir Alfred was looking at me with that wonderfully fascinating expression, I enjoyed the party very much.

The celebrated wit sat on Lady Horatia’s left side, and so we came in for a good many of his jokes; and there was something in the manner of telling them, and his broad, genial face, that made everything he said most amusing.

Many of his sayings were repeated all along the table, and reached Sir Alfred, who responded with some witty or clever remark, which showed him to me in a different and still more attractive point of view than before.

“No wonder that everybody raves about him, and his voice too,” thought I, with a thrill of delight at the idea of singing with him. My face must have expressed my thoughts much more than was expedient, for the pale poet said at that moment,

“You will enjoy singing with him to-night. I am afraid even more than I shall to hear you both, and that will be very much, for to hear good music is one of the greatest pleasures of my life.”