“Yes, I had something on the stairs, like the children. Have you had good sport this winter?”
“Capital! I’ve brought one of my gees here; father is here, too. He has brought old Champion.”
“I saw him going very well on Saturday week,” put in a tall, thin man. “From Benson’s Cross, you know. He was quite in the first flight in that second run, you remember.”
And now every one of these people began to talk clamorously, and at once—and all about hunting. Their conversation was extraordinary (to an outsider). Mr. Somers was drawn into the conversation, and was not a whit behind-hand; but just flowed like a tide into the subject, as interested and excited as the most rabid fox-hunter among them. I caught such scraps as—“Got hung up in a nasty corner,” “Miss Flagg at the bottom of a ditch, her saddle in one field, her horse in the other,” “scent catchy,” “foxes not very good,” “drains all open,” “the pace terrific,” “the ladies screaming behind him.” It was all Greek to me.
I stood a little aloof, though not conspicuously so—for the room was full—and watched this girl. She had a loud, clear, far-carrying voice and laugh; she was small, slight, and dazzlingly fair, her fair skin enhanced by her black brows and lashes. Somehow, her face seemed familiar to me; she was like some one I knew. Who could it be? As I meditated, I glanced unconsciously into the great mirror above the chimney-piece, in which we were all reflected, and instantly recognized who it was that she resembled. It was myself! I recalled with a sudden thrill that my own mother’s name was Chalgrove. Perhaps this girl was some connection—perhaps my cousin! More unlikely things might be!
She was smart, popular, pretty, wealthy, and what is known as “in the swim.” She was holding quite a small court on the hearthrug—a gay, quick-witted, and capricious queen.
What a contrast to myself—a poor obscure nobody, and at the present moment nothing more nor less than a mere daw decked out in peacock’s feathers! I gazed at Miss Chalgrove—I had heard of her—Lord Chalgrove’s sole child and heiress. I stared at her contemplatively in the mirror; suddenly she looked up, and our eyes met! Whatever she was about to say died away in a sort of broken sentence, and then she unexpectedly touched me on the arm with her fan, and said with a radiant smile—
“Yes, I see it too! Is it not extraordinary? We are as like as the proverbial two peas; only you are the better looking of the two—the sweet pea, and I am the common or garden pea! Joking apart, we might be sisters. Where did you get the Chalgrove eyebrows and upper lip?”
I colored furiously, for I was instantly the center of attention. It seemed to me that every eye was fastened on my face, and the distinctive Chalgrove features! To my immense relief, Mrs. Cholmondeley at this moment made a sort of swoop into our circle, saying as she did so—