Of all the men she had met in the great world of society, during the three years that she had been "out," she had not found his equal, either in manly beauty and dignity, or in moral and intellectual excellence.
His brow needs no ducal coronet to ennoble it! His name needs no title to illustrate it. The "princely Hereward!" "If all the men of his race resembled him, they well deserved this popular soubriquet. And whether this gentleman calls himself Mr. Scott or Lord Arondelle, I shall think of him only as the 'princely Hereward.'" mused Salome, as she sat and listened to the music of his voice, and the wisdom of his words.
She was sorry when their hostess gave the signal for the ladies to rise from the table and leave the gentlemen to their wine.
They went into the drawing-room, where the conversation turned upon the subject of the brilliant young journalist. No one knew who he was. Scott, though a very good name, was such a common one! But the noble host's endorsement was certainly enough to pass this gifted young gentleman in any society. The ladies talked of nothing but Mr. Scott, and his perfection of person, manner and conversation, until the entrance of the gentlemen from the dining-room.
The host and the member for Lone came in arm in arm, and a little in the rear of the other guests, and lingered behind them.
"This most extraordinary young man, this Mr. Scott—you have known him some time, my lord?" said Sir Lemuel Levison, in a low tone.
"Ay, probably as long as you have, Sir Lemuel," replied the Premier, with a peculiarly intelligent smile.
"Ah, yes! I see! Your lordship has possibly detected my recognition of this young gentleman," said Sir Lemuel.
"Of course. And I, on my part, knew him when I first saw him again after some years."
"His name was common enough to escape detection."