The draught was bitter enough; but Manners was indomitable, and answered still gayly, "Nay, nay, Lady Barbara, I am so diffident of my own merits, and so completely convinced that no one will ever fall in love with my beautiful countenance, that I shall certainly never marry till some lady asks me. It would require that proof, at least, to convince me that I had any chance of being loved."
"And if any lady were to ask you," continued the unmerciful Lady Barbara, "would you really marry her after all, Colonel Manners?"
"I believe I may answer that it would depend upon circumstances," replied Colonel Manners, with a grave smile; "as, unfortunately for my happiness, your ladyship's marriage has put you out of the question."
"Oh, do not let me be in the way in the least degree," rejoined Mr. Simpson from the other side of the table.
De Vaux was fairly driven to a laugh; and Lady Barbara, beginning to find out that there was an error somewhere, paused for a moment, and went on with her dinner.
However skilfully and courageously a man may struggle against his own feelings on those points where they have intrenched themselves by long habit and possession, yet, when forced by circumstance to treat as a matter of common conversation subjects that are habitually painful to him, there are slight traits--each almost imperceptible, but making something in the aggregate--which will betray what is going on within; sometimes to the eyes of another man, and almost always to those of a woman. A degree of bitterness will mingle with his gaiety; a sigh will sometimes tread upon the heels of a smile; and a deeper gravity will follow the transient, superficial laugh, and distinguish the true from the assumed. Women, by a more refined nature, by a necessity of concealing their own feelings under various disguises, and by the habit of judging others by slight indications, are rendered infinitely more capable of penetrating the veil with which we are often obliged to cover our deeper sentiments. Both Marian de Vaux and Isadore Falkland were at once in Colonel Manners's secret, and comprehended, without difficulty, how much was jest and how much was earnest in his replies to Lady Barbara. Both felt for him, too, and both were sorry for him; and as Marian, in consequence of her generous interposition in his favour, already suffered somewhat too much by her Ladyship's answers touching matrimony, to dare the field again, Isadore entered upon the campaign with greater power, and did her best to effect a diversion. In this she was tolerably successful, though Colonel Manners did not entirely escape; and the ladies retired sooner than usual, in consequence of Mrs. Falkland's desire to support her daughter.
De Vaux, anxious for the following morning, in order that all his doubts might be brought to a conclusion, would willingly have followed the ladies as soon as possible: but, alas! those were days of hard drinking; and Mr. Simpson, though by no means given to excess any more than Manners or De Vaux, had his own peculiar method of consoling himself for his lady's tiresomeness during the day, by sitting long in the evening, with the sparkling decanters and the social biscuits, by which he was sure neither to be annoyed nor contradicted. He drank his wine slowly, and with real enjoyment, pausing over every sip as a miser over every guinea, playing with the stalk of his wineglass, saying little smart things, if he had any one to hear him, and if he had not, gazing in the fire and diversifying pleasant thoughts by discovering landscapes and faces therein.
De Vaux, without any want of charity, wished every glass his last, and Colonel Manners wished himself in the drawing-room; but the leges conviviales of those days were far more strict than in these degenerate times; and as the party was so small, both felt themselves obliged to sit ceremoniously at table, till suddenly Mr. Simpson perceived that neither of his companions had touched wine for half an hour, and kindly took the hint. It was now near ten o'clock: Lady Barbara had far to go, and was compassionate towards the four bright bays that were ordered at that hour; and thus Colonel Manners was spared the execution of all the manœuvres he had planned to get out of her way in the drawing-room. The carriage was announced: De Vaux handed her down-stairs; and a glad sound it was when the wheels rolled away from the door.
There are many people whose disagreeableness is of that peculiar kind that one can compensate the annoyance it occasions at the time by laughing at it with one's friends when it is over: but, unfortunately, Lady Barbara's was of so extensive and tenacious a quality that it outlasted her presence; and Mrs. Falkland, Isadore, and Marian, all found that they could not talk of it in Colonel Manners's presence without being as disagreeable as herself. As Marian, too, had no inclination to converse upon the risks of matrimony and large families, she was cut off from mentioning her share in the annoyance; and after a quarter of an hour spent in determining, in general terms, that Lady Barbara Simpson was a very disagreeable person, the family returned to its usual course. Marian was a little anxious about Edward's proposed excursion of the next morning; De Vaux himself was thoughtful in regard to the conduct he was to pursue towards the gipsy; and, as if by mutual consent, the whole party separated sooner than usual.
We have not, however, done with the events of that night, and, consequently, we shall follow De Vaux to his room, where he rang his bell; and on the appearance of his servant, suffered him to give him his dressing-gown and slippers. "You need not wait, William," he said, when this operation was concluded; "I have something to write--give me that desk."