“That backbiting vixen! And Mrs. Joyce Mildmay is with ’em, I’ll vow?”
“Yes, mem——”
“’Tis this devilish Monitor hath brought ’em upon me, and they’re here to condole with me—the wretches!”
“But I’m with ye, child!” quoth the Duchess from her lofty perch, whence my lady hasted to lift her forthwith, holding her suspended in mid-air a moment to kiss her furiously ere she set her gently down.
“God bless you, aunt, for a sweet, kind little soul! But I’ll not see ’em—yes, I will, and you shall come too! Yet no,” sighed my lady, “no, ’twere better I front their claws alone—the cats. Come you to my rescue should they inflict themselves on me too long, dearest.” And having, with Mrs. Betty’s deft aid, smoothed her silks and laces, having patted and pulled at rebellious curls, my lady descended the broad stair and swept into the great reception-room, where a group of chattering ladies rose with one accord, chattering fond epithets, to embrace her, kiss, fondle and stare at her with eyes that took in for future reference every item of her apparel, every gesture, glance and flicker of her eyelash.
“My dearest Herminia, welcome back to town!” cried Lady Belinda, with a pouncing kiss. “How vastly well you’re looking ... though a little worn, of course ... a trifle pale, my love!”
“Pale, indeed!” sighed Lady Prudence, “and small wonder, my sweet soul, for who would not look pale and haggard under the circumstances?”
“And such circumstances, Herminia love!” gasped Mistress Joyce, shuddering and turning up her large blue eyes soulfully. “To think thy fair, unblemished name should be even remotely associated with that—that monster, Sir John Dering! My heart bleeds for thee, thou poor, injured dear!” At this, every other lady sighed also and shuddered in unanimous horror, while the gentlemen scowled, nodded, rapped snuff-boxes loudly, snuffed ferociously and voiced their sentiments of indignant abhorrence.
“A dem’d, lying scandal, by heaven!” exclaimed Lord Verrian.
“A dooced scandalous lie, on my soul!” ejaculated Mr. Prescott.