"You must come to us then. Promise! won't you, Barbara dear? You'll like Mr. Schröder; at least I think you will. He's very quiet; but so kind-hearted and thoughtful. Oh, Captain Lyster! how you startled me!"
"Very sorry, Mrs. Schröder," drawled the Captain, creeping leisurely towards them; "wouldn't have put you out for the world; but this is scarcely fair, you know; two ladies monopolising each other when we're dying to talk to them; and we're left to listen to that horrible hirsute wretch who's thumping the piano."
"Klavierspieler a horrible wretch! Did you hear that, Barbara? Well, Captain Lyster, I won't monopolise Mrs. Churchill any more, and you shall have a chat with her;" and Mrs. Schröder walked off, laughing. Barbara had been looking at Mr. Schröder, who was standing in the doorway talking with Frank Churchill; and had noticed his face fall as Lyster approached them. When Mrs. Schröder moved away, her husband seemed relieved.
Captain Lyster sat down by Barbara, and talked long, and for him earnestly. She saw at once that he wanted to be numbered among her friends; and in a score of little delicate sentences he conveyed to her his appreciation of her conduct in marrying a man whom she loved, in spite of the opposition of her friends, his respect for her husband's character and talents, and his desire to serve them. Then he turned the conversation upon Mrs. Schröder; and Barbara noticed that his manner changed; that he hesitated, and kept his eyes down, as he wondered whether she were happy; whether she loved he husband; whether it had really been her duty to obey her father's will, and not consult her own inclinations, as people said had been the case. For the first time a light broke upon Barbara, and she knew Captain Lyster's story as plainly as if he had told it to her in so many words. Following his glance as he stopped speaking, she saw that it rested on Alice Schröder, to whom Mr. Beresford was now talking, bending over her chair with great apparent devotion; and looking from them to Mr. Schröder, Barbara remarked that the gloom had returned to his face, while Frank Churchill himself looked somewhat annoyed.
It was not without a very great deal of trouble that Mr. Pringle had induced his friend Prescott to accompany him to Saxe-Coburg Square. Even after that gentleman had given a reluctant consent he withdrew it, and on the very morning of the reception Mr. Pringle was not aware whether or not he should have to go alone. For Mr. Prescott was very much in love with Kate Mellon still: that interview in the Park had by no means had the effect of curing him of his passion; although, being a sensible young fellow, he saw that there was not the slightest use in giving way to it.
"He's a thoroughly changed buffer, is Jim, sir!" Mr. Pringle would remark of him; "he used to be the cheeriest of birds; always good for going out some where, and no end of fun; always in tip-top spirits, and the best chap out. But now he sits in his chambers, and smokes his pipe, and grizzles himself to death, pretty near; wishing he'd got more money, and all sorts of things. That won't do, you know! He must be picked up and trotted out; and the man for that line of business is yours truly." In pursuance of which determination Mr. Pringle opened a system of attack on his friend, and in the first place insisted that they should go together to Mr. Schröder's reception. Even at the last, when Prescott gave in his final consent, it was under strong protest. "I shall be dreary, old boy; and you'll be sorry you took me. You know I'm not very good company just now, George. I've not got over--"
"All right; I know. 'Tell me, my heart, can this be?' &c. But we'll have some dinner at Simpson's, and a bottle of old port; and that'll set you up, and make you see life under a different aspect, as they say in novels."
The dinner was very good; and finding his friend still silent and low-spirited, Mr. Pringle exerted himself to rouse him. He was very well known at the dining-rooms, and called the waiters by their Christian names, and asked after their families, and little events in their private lives.
Mr. Prescott could not help laughing at the absurdities perpetrated by his friend, and gradually his spirits revived. After dinner they went to Mr. Pringle's chambers, and smoked and had some hot whisky-and-water, which, coming after the port-wine, had a very hilarious effect upon Mr. Pringle, who then wanted to "go out some where," and not to go to the Schröders at all; but Mr. Prescott overruling this, they dressed and went. Mr. Pringle--and especially Mr. Pringle after half a bottle of port-wine and a couple of tumblers of whisky-punch--was a trying person to go about with, and Prescott had to call him to order several times. When they arrived at the house, and were asked their names, he gave them as the Duke of Wellington and Mr. Babbage; and on the servant's being about gravely to repeat them, he stopped him, saying they did not wish their names announced, as they were detectives come on very private business. On the staircase he feigned a wild terror at the powdered heads of the footmen; asked "how they came so white;" by nature or not? and altogether so behaved himself, that Mr. Prescott declared he would not enter the room with him.
Once in the room, Mr. Pringle toned down visibly, and conducted himself like an ordinary mortal. He was very friendly with Alice Schröder, and expressed poignant regret at Mr. Townshend's sudden indisposition (for that worthy gentleman declined to come upstairs after dinner; Beresford's mention of Pigott and Wells had been too much for him), though secretly Mr. Pringle was pleased at missing his godfather, whom he was accustomed to regard as the essence of sternness; and he was introduced to Churchill, of whom he spoke the next day at the office as a "deuced clever fellow, a literary bird;" and he listened for a few minutes to Klavierspieler's pianoforte-fireworks; and, then went down and got some refreshment. He endeavoured to induce Mr. Prescott to accompany him; but that gentleman not merely absolutely declined, but addressed his friend in strong words of warning, and declared that as for himself he was thoroughly happy where he was.