It was on the occasion of the first drawing-room of the season at Buckingham Palace, when Madame Von Bruyin and her protégée were presented by the wife of the German Ambassador.
After this presentation, the baroness, who had taken a handsome furnished house on Westbourne Terrace, and whose year of mourning had expired, issued invitations for a large party, which she wished to make the most brilliant of the season.
The baroness had passed two seasons in London. The first as a débutante with her father, and a German princess as a chaperone; the second as a bride, with her newly married husband; and now in her third season she entered society as a young, handsome and wealthy widow, with a very extensive acquaintance.
She issued over five hundred invitations to her ball, and these included many of the most distinguished persons of the age, celebrities of high rank, of worldwide scientific, literary, diplomatic or military renown, the beauties and geniuses of the hour, and so forth.
The ball was to be a great success.
Lilith strongly objected to being present—pleaded earnestly to be relieved from attending it.
“Dear madame, I feel as if, in my circumstances, I ought to live in strict retirement. I am not Mrs. Wyvil. I am not a widow. I am Tudor Hereward’s repudiated wife. When I find myself in a ball-room or in a drawing-room, surrounded by people who seem anxious to do me honor—I feel—oh, I feel just as if I were only a fraud, a humbug, an impostor, an adventuress. And, oh! I feel so deeply ashamed of myself and my false position! So humiliated and degraded! I feel this even more deeply in these English drawing-rooms than I did in the Parisian salons. Oh, dear madame, pray do not insist on my presence at your ball!” she prayed.
“Lilith, you are the most morbid creature I ever met with in all the days of my life. You would like to shut yourself up in a convent, I suppose, just because that hateful man, after marrying you to be revenged on me, has thrown you off to please himself!” exclaimed Leda Von Bruyin.
“Pray do not speak of Mr. Hereward in that way,” said the loyal young wife.
“I will speak of him as he deserves. I am beginning to hate that man. Yes, and to hate myself for ever having imagined that I liked him.”