"Pooh, pooh! my dear ladies, if that is all," said Mr. Stafford, "then, by Heaven, let the glass circulate at once! Indeed, your La'ship," turning to Lady Standish, "so far from our good Jasper having anything to say to Mistress Bellairs's presence here to-night, let me assure you that he and I set out alone at an early hour this evening, with no other object but to be of service to your ladyship—whom your anxious husband had been led to believe was likely to come this way ... somewhat—ah—unsuitably protected, as he thought."
Then he bent down and whispered into Lady Standish's pretty ear (which she willingly enough lent to such consoling assurances): "As for your friend," he went on, "our delightful if volatile Bellairs—she came here with a vastly different person to Sir Jasper: poor O'Hara yonder—who's drinking all the punch! She will tell you herself how it happened.... But, gracious stars, my dear Lady Maria, have you not yet been given a glass of the—of Mr. O'Hara's restorative!"
"Allow me," cried Kitty, who, having just settled Sir Jasper's business for him, had now freedom to place her energies elsewhere. "Dearest Lady Maria—how sweet of you to join us in our little reconciliation feast!" She took a brimming glass from O'Hara's hands and held it, with a winning smile, for Lady Maria's acceptance.
"Madam," responded the matron, scowled, drew her voluminous skirts together and became impenetrably deaf.
"Ah," cried the widow in her topmost notes, "Madam, how I should have revered such a relative as yourself! Next to the joy of calling my Lord Verney's mother, my mother, would have been that of calling his aunt, my aunt! But the dream is over. Lord Verney and I can never be more to each other than we are now."
"Eh?" and the Dowager recovered her hearing. "What's that, what's that, nevvy?"
"'Tis, alas, true," said Lord Verney, with great demureness. "Mistress Bellairs has given me back my word."
"Forgive me, dear Lady Maria," trilled the widow.
"Mercy on us!" ejaculated the old lady; then, as if unconsciously, groped for the glass in Mistress Kitty's hand.
"Sit down, sit down all!" cried Mistress Bellairs. Stafford echoed with a jovial shout. There was a call for a fresh bowl. O'Hara's eyes began to dance, his tongue to resume its glibness. And Lady Maria was surprised to find how long her tumbler took to empty, but, curiously, never failed to be looking the other way when Mistress Bellairs with tenderest solicitude plied the silver ladle in her direction.