Lady Caroline came out of her corner, laughing. "You did not expect me, I see. Am I welcome?"
"Any welcome that Mrs. Halifax has given is also mine."
But John's manner, though polite, was somewhat constrained; and he felt, as it seemed to my observant eye, more surprise than gratification in this incursion on his quiet home. Also I noticed that when Lady Caroline, in the height of her condescension, would have Muriel close to her at dinner, he involuntarily drew his little daughter to her accustomed place beside himself,
"She always sits here, thank you."
The table-talk was chiefly between the lady and her host; she rarely talked to women when a man was to be had. Conversation veered between the Emperor Napoleon and Lord Wellington, Lord William Bentinck and Sardinian policy, the conjugal squabbles of Carlton House, and the one-absorbing political question of this year—Catholic emancipation.
"You are a staunch supporter of the Bill, my father says. Of course, you aid him in the Kingswell election to-morrow?"
"I can scarcely call it an election," returned John. He had been commenting on it to us that morning rather severely. An election! it was merely a talk in the King's Head parlour, a nomination, and show of hands by some dozen poor labourers, tenants of Mr. Brithwood and Lord Luxmore, who got a few pounds a-piece for their services—and the thing was done.
"Who is the nominee, Lady Caroline?"
"A young gentleman of small fortune, but excellent parts, who returned with us from Naples."
The lady's manner being rather more formal than she generally used, John looked up quickly.