There were no guests then staying at Portray; but that very distinguished lady, Mrs. Carbuncle, with her niece, Miss Roanoke, had been there; as had also that very well-known nobleman, Lord George de Bruce Carruthers. Lord George and Mrs. Carbuncle were in the habit of seeing a good deal of each other, though, as all the world knew, there was nothing between them but the simplest friendship. And Sir Griffin Tewett had also been there, a young baronet who was supposed to be enamoured of that most gorgeous of beauties, Lucinda Roanoke. Of all these grand friends,—friends with whom Lizzie had become acquainted in London,—nothing further need be said here, as they were not at the castle when Frank arrived. When he came, whether by premeditated plan or by the chance of circumstances, Lizzie had no one with her at Portray,—except the faithful Macnulty.
"I thought to have found you with all the world here," said Frank,—the faithful Macnulty being then present.
"Well,—we have had people, but only for a couple of days. They are all coming again, but not till November. You hunt;—don't you, Frank?"
"I have no time for hunting. Why do you ask?"
"I'm going to hunt. It's a long way to go,—ten or twelve miles generally; but almost everybody hunts here. Mrs. Carbuncle is coming again, and she is about the best lady in England after hounds;—so they tell me. And Lord George is coming again."
"Who is Lord George?"
"You remember Lord George Carruthers, whom we all knew in London?"
"What,—the tall man with the hollow eyes and the big whiskers, whose life is a mystery to every one? Is he coming?"
"I like him, just because he isn't a ditto to every man one meets. And Sir Griffin Tewett is coming."
"Who is a ditto to everybody."