"Ah, Lionel, yes," rejoined Mrs. Wriothesley, as she shook hands, "and with so nice a ship, such glorious weather, and so many pleasant compagnons de voyage as I see around me, you will find us all willing to dance to your pipe, even if it led us all the way to New York."
"We are too discreet to attempt the impossible," replied Lionel. "If we can only please and amuse our guests to Gravesend and back, we shall sleep contented." And then he turned away to welcome fresh arrivals, leaving Sylla and Mrs. Wriothesley to greet their friends and inspect the arrangements made for their entertainment.
And that these had been the result of much thought and preparation was transparent even to the unreflecting. Like an elaborate piece of clockwork, the whole affair was not as yet in motion. But a glance on the foredeck of the steamer showed, mingling amongst the fashionable crowd, Spanish singers with their guitars, Tyrolese jödelers, and some two or three popular comedians, who at times consent to dispel the dreariness of an evening party. Mr. Cottrell even whispered to Mrs. Wriothesley that he should not be at all surprised if the thing was a real success.
"They are young, very young," he continued, "to undertake the responsibilities of the commissariat; but let us be charitable, and trust that they have had the wisdom to seek sound advice relative to the cookery and champagne."
Fair though the day might be, yet its opening to the eyes of Lady Mary Bloxam seemed unpropitious in the extreme. Lionel Beauchamp received her and Blanche with grave courtesy, but no more; indeed, his manner to Miss Bloxam touched upon the ceremonious. It was true that as a host he could hardly be expected to devote much time to any individual guest; but still it is very possible to convey a good deal, even in the few words of welcome; and under the circumstances Lady Mary decided that Lionel Beauchamp had greeted them more as acquaintance, whose hospitality it was incumbent on him to return, than as intimate friends whom he was only too delighted to see. He had not lingered to exchange a few words with them as he had with Mrs. Wriothesley and Sylla, and Lady Mary felt filled with dread that her rival had already triumphed, and was receiving, conjointly with Miss Chipchase, the homage of the conquered. Blanche, too, who had already made up her mind that this day was either to set things straight with her and Lionel, or to estrange them for good, felt that there was little likelihood of its ending in the manner she desired. She would scarcely see anything of him in a large party such as this, unless he specially sought her, and she thought now it was improbable he would do that. She bitterly regretted that she had not adhered to her original determination. Nothing can be more dreary than a gay party from which there is no escape when one's mind is out of tune for society of any description. The idea that for so many hours the conventional smile must be upon our brow, and the conventional nothings upon our lips, is depressing in the extreme. It may be injudicious, but it is certainly allowable, to look sad when the bank that holds our all suddenly falls; but for a woman to acknowledge in her face that the bank of her affections is broke is most indecorous, and shows a want of proper spirit and proper pride pitiful to witness. She may scream if she is pinched; but neither sign nor cry must show that her heart-strings are wrung.
It is well to set your guests eating and drinking betimes on these occasions. The fasting man takes an acrid view of your arrangements compared with that taken by the man who has well fed; and the deferred opening of the supper-room has sealed the fate of many a dance which but for that had been voted pleasant enough. Lionel Beauchamp and his confrères determined to fall into no such mistake. No sooner are their friends on board and the steamer cast off from her moorings than the signal is given for lunch. The day is so fine that it has been decided to go down nearly to the Nore. With scarce a ripple on the water, even those who have no confidence whatever in their sea-going capabilities can feel no terror of mal de mer. The whole affair is an undoubted success. Mr. Cottrell himself pronounces the luncheon not only satisfactory, but indicative of much promise as regards dinner later on. The gay crowd breaks into knots and parties all over the decks. Now listening to the ballad some swarth Spaniard trills forth to his guitar, anon laughing at some buffo song humorously rendered by a well-known comedian, while ever and again Beauchamp and his brethren clear a space on the deck, and a valse or two becomes the order of the day.
"A very charming party, Miss Blanche, don't you think so?" remarked Mr. Cottrell, as he sauntered up to that young lady's side. "Have you been forward to look at what they call the 'Fair'? You can shoot for nuts, look at peep-shows, play roulette for gingerbread; in fact, indulge in all the amusements of childhood."
"No; the whole thing is no doubt very well done, but I don't feel myself to-day. I am not quite up to the sort of thing. Stupid of me to come. People should keep themselves to themselves when not in the vein for society."
"Ah," rejoined Mr. Cottrell, laughing, "not in the vein for society is a charming phrase. It embraces so much, and defines it so vaguely. Not in the vein for society may mean that we want our lunch; that some one we wanted to meet has not come; that we have fallen to the charge of the wrong person. I always feel that my being in the vein for society depends a good deal upon what the society consists of. Every now and then I get somebody to take down to dinner that makes me sigh for the Desert of Sahara. Now, I wonder what's wrong with you to-day?"
"Had too much of London, I fancy," replied Blanche, smiling. "I want to get back to Todborough. These headaches never trouble me there."