“A good preliminary—one must come before one goes,” whispered Sir Francis to the ladies.
His lordship was evidently perturbed. He scarcely bowed either to Sir Francis or the ladies.
“I was told that you had come hither, Sir Francis,” he said, “so I followed you.”
“You do me honour, my lord,” said Sir Francis.
“I took a liberty, sir; but this is not a time for punctilio. I have come to resign my part in your play, sir,” said his lordship.
“Oh, surely not, my lord,” cried Sir Francis. “What would the School for Lovers be without Bellaire, my lord? Why only now Lady Susan was saying—what is it that your ladyship said?”
“It had something to do with philosophy and the sole of a grenadier,” said Lady Sarah interposing.
“Nay, was it not that his lordship's impersonation made you think of a scene from Midsummer Night's Dream?” said Sir Francis. “One of the most beautiful of Shakespeare's plays, is't not, my lord?—fantasy mingled with irony, an oasis of fairyland in the midst of a desert of daily life.”
“I know nothing about your fairyland, sir, but I have been told within the hour that her ladyship”—he bowed in the direction of Lady Susan—“has, during the three rehearsals which we have had of the play, been sneering in a covert way at my acting of the part of Bellaire, although to my face she seemed delighted, and thus——”
“Are you sure that your informant was right in his interpretation of her ladyship's words? Surely your lordship—a man of the world—would have been sensible of every shade of her ladyship's meaning?”