“My dear Denis, Her Majesty has most graciously condoned the dreadful Act of Disrespect by which you made an exhibition of yourself and of another person who shall be nameless, at a moment, when the Horrid Spectacle could not fail to meet her August Glance, in so far as not to withdraw her condescending promise to be present at my Ball to-morrow night. She has, nevertheless, given me to understand with Her own incomparable Tact and Kindness that should you find it convenient to be absent on business on that occasion it would considerably add to the harmony of the evening. I am sure I need only convey this expression of her Royal pleasure to you, that you are not so altogether lost to decency and good feeling as not instantly to take steps to meet it. Pray believe me, my Lord, to remain your attached and dutiful Wife——”
Denis’s voice shook and broke with a sound that approached a snarl, on the last words.
“What do you think of that? What do you think of it?” he shouted, shaking the letter, first under Lady Flora’s, then under Nan Day’s nose.
Both ladies looked scared.
“Dear! dear!” said Lady Flora, “I’m sure ’tis vastly disagreeable all round, but—well, there, my good soul, wouldn’t it help matters if you was just to do as the Queen asks? La! she’s so prodigious stiff-backed. And who should know it but me! Didn’t I nearly die of being Lady of the Bedchamber for three mortal months. Oh, I’m too fat and soft for Her Majesty, but sure, it’ll all blow over, and you so good-natured yourself, and so obliging!”
“I’m sure,” said Nan, stepping up to Kitty, and turning a fierce blue eye on my Lord, “I don’t know what you mean about leading my Philip a dance, my Lord Kilcroney. Whatever points of difference there may have been between us, they’ve been private ones, and my husband, sir, is a gentleman of high principles and good conduct, and if I were not all a wife should be to him, I should be, indeed, the basest of women; but were I——” she suddenly began to shake and tremble upon tears—“were I wedded to one who outraged my tenderest feelings, offended my dignity in public, made a mock of the most solemn vows, and—and——” she flung her arms round Kitty and clasped her, sobbing.
Her emotion was contagious. Kitty burst into tears on the spot.
“May you never know what it means, my sweet Nan. May your heart never be broken!”
The two clung together, sobbing as for a wager, and Lady Flora, whisking out a capable handkerchief, sniffed and begged them, with reddening eyelids, to stop for mercy’s sake.
“Don’t, Kilcroney! Don’t, Nan! I’m so soft! You’ll have me off too. I never could bear to see anyone cry.”