"Captivated! no, my heart is not free," and he bowed conventionally to the fair speaker; "but I thought her of rare beauty. By Heavens!" he exclaimed, as a sudden idea struck him, "that dilatory fellow, Tremenhere, complains that he cannot meet with a model for his 'Aurora'—I wish he could see Miss Dalzell! I wonder whether she would sit to him? Pray, ask her, dear Lady Dora: does she live in town? I'll speak to Tremenhere about it." He was forgetting every thing she had been asking him. Lady Dora felt dreadfully embarrassed—her colour rose.
"Pray," she cried, "my lord, do not do a thing which would pain and annoy me excessively. I have requested you to forget all about Miss Dalzell, and you talk of her sitting for some foolish picture, and of all men on earth to Mr. Tremenhere."
Her last words awoke other thoughts in his mind. "I am very forgetful," he answered. "Rest assured, Lady Dora, no one shall hear her name or the meeting from me; but may I in return ask, why less to Mr. Tremenhere than any other person?"
"Oh!" she answered, evasively, "artists will dare any thing for a face which exactly meets their wants and wishes. I particularly desire all which passed to-day, forgotten by you."
"You shall be obeyed."
"Some day possibly, you may know all; 'tis now a most painful mystery."
"You may rely upon me," he replied. "And now, may I ask, as one much interested in you, Lady Dora, have you not recently met Mr. Tremenhere in the country? I do not mean at Uplands—in Yorkshire?"
In an instant her face became extremely pale, even to the lips, which quivered; then indignant pride at his questioning drove back the blood in flushing bounds. "Pardon me, my lord, I do not see the right you have to question. I was in Yorkshire with my mother."
"I too crave pardon," he replied, "for presuming too much on hopes for the future. I see you did meet him; the rest is no stranger to my knowledge—I am satisfied."
There was a calm dignity about him which she had never before seen. She would have given worlds to know what he alluded to—what he had heard. But she durst not do so, even her pride scarcely restrained her from questioning; her mind was in a complete maze of fears. What could he mean? Individually, his opinion was of not the slightest importance to her, but, as transmitted perhaps by him to the world, it was altogether different; yet what could she say? Already she felt humbled at having been forced to ask so great a favour as silence from him; what was still more remarkable in this interview was, that he made no attempt whatever, beyond the most commonplace gallantry, to hint at his own suit, he seemed absorbed in other thoughts, and these were occasioned by her painful confusion at the mention of Tremenhere's name; and a bitter feeling in consequence arose in his mind against him, for his supposed impertinent presumption. There was a silence of a few minutes, broken at last by her coldly saying, "I believe we may now abridge this meeting, Lord Randolph—I have your promise of silence. You proposed visiting my mother, I think? Allow me to have you announced. I will rejoin you in the drawing-room shortly." So saying, she rang the bell.