Mr. Sidney Wilton having been delightful, thought it necessary to observe that he feared Lady Montfort had been bored. “I have been, and am, extremely amused,” she replied; “and now tell me, who is that young man at the very end of the table?”
“That is my private secretary, Mr. Ferrars.”
“Ferrars!”
“A brother of Lady Roehampton.”
“Present him to me after dinner.”
Endymion knew Lady Montfort by sight, though she did not know him. He had seen her more than once at the receptions of Mrs. Neuchatel, where, as indeed in every place, she was the cynosure. He was much astonished at meeting her at this party to-day,—almost as surprised as the duchess dowager, for Endymion, who was of an observant nature, was beginning to comprehend society and all its numerous elements, and schools, and shades, and classes. When they entered the saloon, Mr. Wilton led Endymion up to Lady Montfort at once, and she immediately inquired after his sister. “Do you think,” she said, “Lady Roehampton would see me to-morrow if I called on her?”
“If I were Lady Roehampton, I would,” said Endymion.
Lady Montfort looked at him with a glance of curious scrutiny; not smiling, and yet not displeased. “I will write her a little note in the morning,” said Lady Montfort thoughtfully. “One may leave cards for ever. Mr. Wilton tells me you are quite his right hand.”
“Mr. Wilton is too kind to me,” said Endymion. “One could not be excused for not doing one’s best for such a master.”
“You like people to be kind to you?” said Lady Montfort.