"Lady Dora," he sternly said, "you and I understand each other. You have a noble heart; let not the blighting world profane it with its heartless wisdom. Your pride is the upas poison, withering all it touches: mine is spirit's right, riding on the winds which shall blast my enemies, and uproot them like trees in a whirlwind,—'tis the pride of love, too, which forbids my breathing the name of my beloved Minnie any where, until I can proclaim her with a voice no one can still, as Tremenhere's wife should be proclaimed! Rest satisfied," he contemptuously added; "your pride will not be shaken from its pedestal by the artist's wife!" He turned coldly away.
"Mr. Tremenhere—Miles Tremenhere!" she whispered anxiously, half rising; but he passed forward without hesitating, and joined the group at the fire.
"I saw you here discussing something with Lady Dora," cried the fair hostess; "was it music, painting, or—not love, I hope? 'Tis a subject best left unargued upon; it always reminds me of a game called 'cat's cradle,' which I played when a child with a cousin of my own, and through the loops of which, the fingers passed (for fingers, read arguments and reasonings, Mr. Tremenhere,) until at last he was certain to produce so incomprehensible a weaving of cord, that I could never unloose it, and I was fain to sit down conquered. Don't play at 'cat's cradle' with Lady Dora."
"Your ladyship need be under no apprehension for the result, were I to attempt it. Lady Dora's cleverness would undo any skein of mine."
"I don't know that. Lady Dora, my dear; where is she? She has left the room.——"
'Twas true; but she returned shortly with her mother, who received Miles with perfect good breeding as a mere acquaintance, which position he accepted, nor desired more.
CHAPTER XX.
This same evening two persons sat after dinner sipping their wine, in a hotel at the West End: these were Marmaduke Burton and Dalby. We must here introduce the latter as a totally different man to what we have seen him in Yorkshire; he was one of those who possess a serpent facility of slipping their skin, only that he performed the operation more than annually, and at will. He had crept into good society in town; there, where an honest, upright lawyer could not have met the views of his clients. Perhaps we are saying too much for some cases, for there were many men of the highest principle who employed Dalby; he was a very useful man, and being anxious to quit the country shortly, and practise in town, he lost no opportunity of increasing his connection. Here he was a perfectly different being; much of the formality of manner, necessary in the country, where levity might not have suited the homelier ideas of those seeking his aid, was thrown aside completely. He knew all the lessees, managers, English and foreign, of all the theatres, all the artists' studios, the actresses, models—all were familiar to him. Did Mr. —— want some fair one hastily summoned from Paris, to appear unexpectedly on the boards of his theatre, and take the town by surprise, Dalby was off, with just a carpet-bag, to France, and before any one imagined it possible, he had returned with the fair one, as in nine cases out of ten he succeeded. There was a bustling manner about him, yet not disagreeable when he pleased, which carried much before him. He took things for granted, and often left no room for a person to say "No." Had he entreated, it might have been otherwise; but he said—"Oh! you must do it, you know, my dear—it will be the making of you;" and thus many a good engagement was relinquished for an indifferent one, by some inexperienced, and often established actress, because it suited Dalby's policy to oblige his employer. He cared for no one but himself. Then he had a habit of loitering near the doors of theatres, and many a lady, distressed by the non-appearance of her carriage, was politely addressed by Dalby. More than once he had unceremoniously, in such a case, appropriated a bachelor friend's brougham, and, offering it as his own, received ten thousand thanks from some fussy dowager on a wet evening, and a cordial invitation to her house. A half-crown to the groom, and a—"If asked whose brougham it is, say Mr. Dalby's," made him perfectly tranquil; to the real owner he would say, (be it remembered, he always took care to select some man of Lord Randolph's mould—a quiet, easygoing person—for his instrument to be played upon,) "My dear fellow, a very particular client of mine, rich as Crœsus, missed her carriage, I have lent yours for ten minutes—you don't mind?"
"Oh! not in the least; let's stand here, and watch the girls get into the carriages. By Jove! there's a pretty one, who can she be? Is it Lady This? or Miss That?" etc., etc., etc.