The dinner was served on the oval table, and the little party—which would have seemed cold and formal in the larger apartment, with its huge table and splendid furniture—was made to appear pleasant and homelike. Spenser Churchill and Lady Despard did all the talking for some time, and Percy Levant only joined in occasionally; but his silence was perfectly self-possessed, and without a touch of the gaucherie or awkwardness and want of breeding Lady Despard had so much dreaded.
Every now and then he let his splendid eyes wander to the lovely face beside him, and each time the amazement overwhelmed him, although he sat apparently so calm. This exquisite creature had been sold to him by Spenser Churchill! This beautiful girl to be his wife! He caught himself once or twice looking round the room with a close scrutiny, as if to convince himself that he was awake and not dreaming. But he could not sit there silent all through the dinner, and at last he forced himself to address her.
It was only some trivial remark about the weather, but it seemed to him that his voice trembled with the emotion with which his heart literally throbbed.
Doris responded in her soft, quiet voice, and the sound of it somehow lulled the storm within him and gave him confidence. He found himself talking to her more freely, and each moment the spell her unexpected beauty and grace cast upon him grew stronger. To listen to a commonplace from Doris was delightful enough, but she could talk something better than commonplace; and Percy Levant, the adventurer, the man who “knew the world,” was again startled to find that Mr. Spenser Churchill’s ward was, young as she looked, well read in subjects of which most women were utterly and sublimely ignorant. And yet she talked so modestly, so diffidently that her knowledge was an added charm.
He started when Lady Despard, rising, said:
“The butler knows the claret you like, Mr. Churchill; I shall leave you to his tender mercies. Mr. Levant, we will have some tea for you when you come into the drawing-room, so don’t expect any to be sent in.”
He opened the door for them, and then sank into his chair, let his head fall upon his bosom, his lips tightly compressed.
Spenser Churchill filled his glass and remained silent until the butler had left the room, then he said, with a smile:
“Well, my dear Percy, what do you think of my dear young ward?”
Percy Levant raised his head and looked at him with a curious expression.