‘Let Tancred go into society: the best way for him to forget Jerusalem is to let him see London.’
‘But how can I manage it?’ said the duchess. ‘I never go anywhere; nobody knows him, and he does not wish to know anybody.’
‘I will manage it, with your permission; ‘tis not difficult; a young marquess has only to evince an inclination, and in a week’s time he will be everywhere. I will tell Lady St. Julians and the great ladies to send him invitations; they will fall like a snow-storm. All that remains is for you to prevail upon him to accept them.’
‘And how shall I contrive it?’ said the duchess.
‘Easily,’ said Lord Eskdale. ‘Make his going into society, while his yacht is preparing, one of the conditions of the great sacrifice you are making. He cannot refuse you: ‘tis but the first step. A youth feels a little repugnance to launching into the great world: ‘tis shyness; but after the plunge, the great difficulty is to restrain rather than to incite. Let him but once enter the world, and be tranquil, he will soon find something to engage him.’
‘As long as he does not take to play,’ said the duke, ‘I do not much care what he does.’
‘My dear George!’ said the duchess, ‘how can you say such things! I was in hopes,’ she added, in a mournful tone, ‘that we might have settled him, without his entering what you call the world, Henry. Dearest child! I fancy him surrounded by pitfalls.’
CHAPTER XII.
The Dreamer Enters Society