“What does Lord Robert know about me?” I said. That made me angry.
“Nothing; he only said Mr. Carruthers admired you at Branches.”
“Oh!”
“He is too attractive, Christopher! he is one of the ‘married women’s pets,’ as Ada Fairfax says, and has never spoken to a girl before. You ought to be grateful we have let him look at you!—minx!—instead of quarrelling, as I can see you have.” She rippled with laughter, while she pretended to scold me.
“Surely I may be allowed that chastened diversion,” I said, “I can’t go to theatres!”
“Tell me about it,” she commanded, tapping her foot.
But early in Mrs. Carruthers’ days, I learnt that one is wiser when one keeps one’s own affairs to oneself—so I fenced a little, and laughed, and we went out to drive finally, without her being any the wiser. Going into the Park, we came upon a troop of the 3rd Life Guards, who had been escorting the King to open something, and there rode Lord Robert in his beautiful clothes, and a floating plume—he did look so lovely—and my heart suddenly began to beat; I could feel it, and was ashamed, and it did not console me greatly to reflect that the emotion caused by a uniform is not confined to nursemaids.
Of course, it must have been the uniform, and the black horse—Lord Robert is nothing to me. But I hate to think that mamma’s mother having been nobody, I should have inherited these common instincts.
300, Park Street,
Thursday, November 24th.