After a visit to Evan, the sisters sailed together into the drawing-room.
'Uniformity is sometimes a gain,' murmured the Countess, as they were parting in the middle of the room. She saw that their fine figures, and profiles, and resemblance in contrast, produced an effect. The Duke wore one of those calmly intent looks by which men show they are aware of change in the heavens they study, and are too devout worshippers to presume to disapprove. Mr. George was standing by Miss Carrington, and he also watched Mrs. Strike. To bewilder him yet more the Countess persisted in fixing her eyes upon his heterodox apparel, and Mr. George became conscious and uneasy. Miss Carrington had to address her question to him twice before he heard. Melville Jocelyn, Sir John Loring, Sir Franks, and Hamilton surrounded the Countess, and told her what they had decided on with regard to the election during the day; for Melville was warm in his assertion that they would not talk to the Countess five minutes without getting a hint worth having.
'Call to us that man who is habited like a groom,' said the Countess, indicating Mr. George. 'I presume he is in his right place up here?'
'Whew—take care, Countess—our best man. He's good for a dozen,' said
Hamilton.
Mr. George was brought over and introduced to the Countess de Saldar.
'So the oldest Tory in the county is a fox?' she said, in allusion to the hunt. Never did Caroline Strike admire her sister's fearful genius more than at that moment.
Mr. George ducked and rolled his hand over his chin, with 'ah-um!' and the like, ended by a dry laugh.
'Are you our supporter, Mr. Uplift?'
'Tory interest, ma—um—my lady.'
'And are you staunch and may be trusted?'