Two years slipped rapidly away, and society rolled on as usual. Many events had taken place, some of which had had their special interest to the characters in this story.
Ruth was thinner than of old, but she looked bright and happy, for the past two years had been very peaceful. She had paid occasional visits to Hampton Court, but Lord Henry’s house seemed to be definitely her home, and the old man always treated her as if she were his child.
In the course of time various matrimonial speculations were set on foot at Hampton Court to provide Ruth with a rich husband; but as in each case the proposition of her joining a dinner-party where either a wealthy plebeian or an elderly titled roué was to be the honoured guest, was crushed emphatically by Lady Henry Moorpark, who was firm in the extreme, the ladies by degrees gave Ruth’s over as a hopeless case, leaving her to the tender mercies of her cousin.
In fact, as she was off the honourable sisters’ hands, and their expenses were lessened, Ruth’s name was not often mentioned except during Mr Paul Montaigne’s periodical calls, when, after walking across from Teddington, that gentleman would sip their tea and sigh, as he blandly alluded to the ingratitude of the world, and the fact that the servants at Lord Henry’s had been instructed to say “not at home” whenever he called.
Often and often bland Mr Paul Montaigne would gnash his teeth when alone, and vow vengeance, but somehow Marcus Glen’s threat had had so great an influence upon him that the thought thereof would make him pale and nervous for twenty-four hours after, and quite spoil his night’s repose. But he heard merely with a grim smile that Captain Glen had become a constant visitor at Lord Henry Moorpark’s, and that his lordship gave Ruth Allerton away upon a certain happy day, for it is a world of change, and the time had come when Ruth’s cousin could think quite calmly of the past.
The calm was not without its disturbance, though, for as Lord Henry sat one evening sipping his port and wondering whether he might not now go up and join the ladies, he heard a carriage stop at the door; there was a thunderous knock, a terrific peal at the bell, and directly after the old butler entered.
“Mr Elbraham, my lord. I have shown him into the library.”
“Hang Mr Elbraham!” said his lordship to himself; but feeling that the visit must be one of importance, seeing how little intercourse they had, he followed the butler into the library, where the financier was walking hastily up and down. “Ha, Elbraham!” he said, “come into the dining-room. I was having my port.”
“Port, eh? Ah, yes! my throat’s like a limekiln;” and, following Lord Henry into the dining-room, the butler placed fresh glasses, and the financier gulped down a couple as quickly as he could.
“Why, it’s an age since we met,” said Lord Henry.