"Mr. Bellmer's an overgrown cherub with a monocle," I laughed. Ned shall not think me one of those odious, fortune-hunting girls.
"Hughy's pretty good-looking, Ethie," said Meg, amiably; "and the best fellow in the world; but probably not of a calibre to interest a college girl. And Lord Strathay"—the name rolled slowly from her tongue, as if she were loth to let it go—"is a charming fellow. Just succeeded to the title. He's travelling with his cousin, the Hon. Stephen Allardyce Poultney. Nelly danced with him. And did she tell you that Mrs. Sloane Schuyler begged to have her presented? Sister to a Duchess, you know. We'll have Helen in London next. Nobody there to compare with her. Just what Strathay said, I do assure you."
London! Men of title, and great ladies and the glitter of a court! Once I may have dreamed of power and place and the rustle of trailing robes, and being admired of all men and hated of all women, but now in my annoyance I longed to cry out: "Why can't you talk sense? Why babble of such silly things?"
To make matters worse, Uncle came just in time to hear the General's last remark.
"I do not think our Princess would leave us," he said, "even if—
'at her feet were laid
The sceptres of the earth exposed on heaps
To choose where she would reign.'"
It was scarcely to be borne. I knew he was thinking of John, and I caught myself looking down at my hand, praying that Ned might see that I no longer wore the opal ring.
Then came Aunt Frank with a headache, looking ill enough, indeed; and I was glad to jump up and serve her some tea.
"Milly has a headache, too," I said; and she looked from Milly's vexed, cold face to mine, almost peevishly replying:—
"Nothing ever seems to ail you, child."