I saw it myself, but Mr. Somers did not. No, no, all his attention was occupied in entertaining us—in showing us the best pictures, the most popular or unpopular celebrities, the beauties, the political stars, and the leaders of fashion. Among these I noted, without his assistance, his own sister, Lady Polexfen. She was dressed in a large white hat, and filmy summer gown, this warm July day, and was sauntering around, attended by a military man, occasionally scanning people or pictures, with a long-handled eye-glass. After a time, we came into its range!
I turned away hastily, for I had no desire to encounter her ladyship, and affected to be absorbed in a beautiful sketch of sunrise on the Jumna, and the Taj! This was a much-admired gem, and the crowd gathered closely around it.
I hoped that Lady Polexfen had already passed by. Then I heard her voice say, close behind me, “My dear Everard!” Then, in fluent French, “What on earth are you doing here, dragging about these shabby, second-rate women? Have you lost your senses? And you know this is a place where every one sees every one.”
“So it seems!” he answered, in equally fluent French, “but there is no occasion for you to see me. These shabby people, as you call them, are not second-rate, but first-rate.”
“The Marchioness of Kinsale pointed you out to me, and laughed. She was so amused at my eccentric brother.”
“Horrid, painted old harridan!” he answered, now roused to aggression. “I would not be seen speaking to her, if I were you; but, then, you are not particular, as long as a woman has a handle to her name and a bran-new gown to her back! Now, I prefer the society of ladies.”
“Oh, very well, very well,” in a choked voice. “Pray, pray go your own way, and you’ll see where it lands you. Only, don’t come to me for advice and assistance!” And here, as Emma turned and asked me for the catalogue, our neighborhood was, perhaps, suspected, for Lady Polexfen’s remonstrances ceased, and presently I saw her large picture-hat slowly passing through a doorway into another room.
As Emma had not caught sight of her, I kept this delightful experience entirely to myself. It certainly rather threw a cloud over the pleasure of my day—a cloud which, I must confess, Mr. Somers—so cheery, so courteous, so chivalrous, so determined to treat us as great ladies—did much to dispel.