He was a trying man, this Mr. Joyce. There was a scarcely suppressed gleam of fun in Lady Caroline's usually earnest eyes that ought to have conveyed to any man acquainted with the circumstances of the position the fact that this new combination had been suggested by her, and by her alone, and that she perfectly appreciated not merely its serviceable but its ludicrous side. Walter Joyce appreciated neither. He should of course be ready to give his services in whatever way they might be required, he said, adding with clumsy candour that he had been almost looking forward to the time of the family's departure for the additional facilities which would be afforded him in getting on with his work.
This was too much for Lady Caroline. A flush passed across her cheek, as she said--
"It has been Lady Hetherington's accidental, and by no means wilful error, Mr. Joyce, that your time has been already so much intruded on. We have, unfortunately for us no doubt, been unaccustomed to the ways of recluses, and have preposterously imagined that a little society might be more agreeable to them than----"
But here she stopped, catching sight of the troubled expression on his face, of his downcast eyes and twitching lips. There was silence for a moment, but he soon mastered his emotion.
"I see plainly that I have blundered, as was not unnatural that I should, through the lack of power of expressing myself clearly. Believe me, Lady Caroline, that I am infinitely indebted to Lord and Lady Hetherington, and to you especially. Yes, indeed, for I know where the indebtedness lies--more especially to you for all the kindness you have shown me, and the notice you have taken of me. And I--I intended----"
"Will you prove the truth of your protestations by never saying another word on the subject? The give-and-take principle has been carried out in our society as much as the most ardent democrat, say yourself, Mr. Joyce, could have desired. I am sure you are too good-natured to mourn over the hours torn from your great work and frittered away in frivolous conversation when you know that you have helped Lady Hetherington and myself to undergo an appalling amount of country people, and that while the dead Wests may grieve over the delay in the publication of their valour and virtue, the living Wests are grateful for assistance rendered them in their conflict with the bores. However, all that is nearly at an end. When the family is at Hetherington House, I have no doubt you will be enabled to enjoy the strictest seclusion. Meantime, there is only one festivity that I know of which is likely to cause us to ask you to tear yourself away from your chronicles."
"And that is?"
"A skating-party. Consequently dependent on the state of the weather. So that if you are still hermitically inclined, you had better pray for a thaw. If the frost holds like this, we are anticipating a very pleasant afternoon to-morrow: the people from the barracks and some others are coming over, the men report the ice in capital order, and there's to be luncheon and that kind of thing. But perhaps, after all, you don't skate, Mr. Joyce?"
"Oh yes, indeed--and you?"
"Nothing in the world I'm so fond of, or, if I may say so, that I do so well. We wintered one year in Vienna; there was a piece of water privately enclosed called the Schwann Spiegel, where the Emperor--never mind!"