Had Sir Thomas been a gentleman of quick perception--a charge which had never been brought against him--he would have been very much astonished at the effect of his anecdote. Sir Charles Mitford turned deadly white. Colonel Alsager frowned heavily, and glanced towards Lady Mitford, who, pale as her husband, looked as if she were about to faint; Lord Dollamore glanced sharply at Sir Thomas Hayter, to see whether he had spoken innocently or with malice prepense. Mrs. Hammond was the only one who seemed to keep her wits thoroughly about her. She glanced at Lady Mitford, and then pushing her chair back sharply, as though obeying a signal from her hostess, rose from the table, followed of course by all the other ladies.
After their departure, and so soon as the door closed behind them, Lord Dollamore addressed himself to Sir Thomas, asking him if he had heard the report that the Whig Ministry intended to impose a new duty on cider--a subject which he knew would engross the old gentleman's attention, to the exclusion of Tom Boscastle and every one else. And, as Lord Dollamore said afterwards, it was an illimitable subject, for he himself invented the report as a herring across the scent; but under old Hayter's fostering care it grew into a perfect Frankensteinian monster. While they were talking, Sir Charles Mitford filled a bumper of claret, and after swallowing half of it, looked round the table to see the extent of the calamity. Then, for the first time, he acknowledged to himself how right the girl Lizzie Ponsford had been in what she had said. Dollamore evidently knew the story, and Alsager--perhaps Hammond, who was leaning back in his chair, enjoying his Madeira; but he could tell in an instant, by the expression of their faces, that none of the others had heard it. Another link had been forged this evening in the chain of his attachment to that charming Mrs. Hammond! how nobly she had behaved! Poor Georgie had lost her bead of course, and had very nearly made a mess of it by fainting, or screaming, or something; but that other woman did just exactly the right thing at the right time. And all for him! He was more infatuated with her than ever. He wondered whether he should ever have the chance of telling her so. He wondered how Butler was progressing in his mission.
By the time the gentlemen arrived in the drawing-room, all trace of the little awkwardness at the dessert-table had passed away. Indeed, Miss Hayter was the only one of all the ladies who had noticed Georgic's uneasiness, and she had not attributed it to its right cause. Now Lady Mitford was looking as serenely lovely as ever, listening to Mrs. Charteris warbling away at the piano; and she looked at her husband with such loving solicitude as he entered the room, that he could not refrain from going up to her, smiling kindly, and pressing her hand, as he whispered, "All right! quite blown over."
Then Sir Charles went in search of Mrs. Hammond. She was sitting in a low chair near the fire, with a little table bearing a shaded lamp close by her hand, and was amusing herself by turning over an album of prints. She never gave herself the smallest trouble when left alone with women; she did not care what they thought of her, and, save under peculiar circumstances, she made no effort to please them. She wished to stand well with Lady Mitford, but she considered she had done enough to that end for one day by executing the masterly retreat from the dinner-table. So she sat there idly under the shade of the lamp, and Sir Charles Mitford thought he had never seen her to such advantage. Her rounded figure showed to perfection in her violet-velvet dress trimmed with soft white lace; her head reclined lazily on the back of her chair, and her eyes rested with calm indifference on the pages of the album--indifference which was succeeded by bright vivacity as she raised them and marked her host's approach.
He dropped quietly into a chair close by hers and said, "You have increased my debt of gratitude to you a thousand-fold."
"Have I?" she replied; "it has been very easily increased. So easily that I don't know how it has been done."
"Don't you? Then your natural talent is wonderful. I should think there were few better or more useful stratagems in warfare than the diversion of the enemy's attention from your weak point."
"Oh," she said, "that is not worth remembering; certainly not worth mentioning again. I am so glad," she added, dropping her voice, "to see you by my side again. I have gone through all kinds of self-examination, imagining that I had in some way offended you; going over in my own mind all that I had said or done since that delicious ride home from Egremont, and I could not tax myself with having wittingly given you any cause for offence. But you seemed to avoid me, to shrink from me, and I cannot tell you how I felt it."
Voice very low here, looks downcast, and general depression.
"Don't speak in that way," said Sir Charles in the same tone; "you don't understand my position. I could explain, and I will some time or other when I have the chance; not now, because--Yes, you are quite right, Mrs. Hammond, Sir Thomas is a thorough specimen of the good old English--"