“Well, I have not met with so much kindness in this world as to become insensible to it.”
“You are too young to be melancholy,” said Lady Montfort; “are you older than Lady Roehampton?”
“We are twins.”
“Twins! and wonderfully like too! Is it not thought so?”
“I have sometimes heard it mentioned.”
“Oh, it is striking!” said Lady Montfort, and she motioned to him to sit down by her; and then she began to talk politics, and asked him what the members thought at dinner of the prospects of the government, and what he had heard of the malcontent movement that they said was in petto. Endymion replied that Mr. Sharpset, the Secretary of the Treasury, did not think much of it.
“Well, I wish I did not,” said Lady Montfort. “However, I will soon find out something about it. I have only just come to town; but I intend to open my house, immediately. Now I must go. What are you going to do with yourself to-morrow? I wish you would come and dine with Lord Montfort. It will be quite without form, a few agreeable and amusing people; Lord Montfort must be amused. It seems a reasonable fancy, but very difficult to realise; and now you shall ask for my carriage, and to-morrow I hope to be able to tell Lady Roehampton what very great pleasure I have had in making the acquaintance of her brother.”
CHAPTER LI
The morning after, Endymion was emerging from the court-yard of the Albany, in order to call on Mr. Rodney, who, as he learnt from a casual remark in a letter from Waldershare, would be in town. The ladies were left behind for the last week of hunting, but business called Mr. Rodney home. Waldershare wrote to Endymion in the highest spirits, and more than once declared that he was the happiest of men. Just as Endymion had entered Piccadilly, he was stopped by a once familiar face; it was St. Barbe, who accosted him with great warmth, and as usual began to talk about himself. “You are surprised to see me,” he said. “It is two years since we met. Well, I have done wonders; carried all before me. By Jove, sir, I can walk into a minister’s private room with as much ease as I were entering the old den. The ambassadors are hand and glove with me. There are very few things I do not know. I have made the fortune of the ‘Chuck-Farthing,’ trebled its circulation, and invented a new style, which has put me at the head of all ‘our own correspondents.’ I wish you were at Paris; I would give you a dinner at the Rocher, which would make up for all our dinners at that ferocious ruffian, Joe’s. I gave a dinner the other day to forty of them, all ‘our own correspondents,’ or such like. Do you know, my dear fellow, when I looked round the room, there was not a man who had not done his best to crush me; running down my works or not noticing them, or continually dilating on Gushy as if the English public would never read anything else. Now, that was Christian-like of me, was not it? God, sir, if they only had but one neck, and I had been the Emperor Nero—but, I will not dwell on it; I hate them. However, it suits me to take the other line at present. I am all for fraternity and that sort of thing, and give them dinners. There is a reason why, but there is no time to talk about that now. I shall want their sweet voices—the hounds! But, my dear fellow, I am truly glad to see you. Do you know, I always liked you; and how come you to be in this quarter this fine morning?”