“I mean more,” continued Penborough. “He could not choose a better moment than the present. In another month, on its present lines, the whole league will have foundered. Should he remain, he would have to sink with the ship. Now, however, it appears safe enough—people see only what you see—a good cargo of influential names on the committee and a clear horizon. He could plead ill-health, or his marriage—in fact, a dozen excellent reasons for momentary retirement. The world would praise his tact. As for the rest, those who have been disillusioned will lose their heads, those who were merely self-seekers will probably lose their places, but the trimmers always keep something. The thing, then, is to cultivate the art of trimming.”
“But you forget that Reckage is going to marry Miss Carillon,” said Aumerle. “Miss Carillon will always advise the safe course.”
“That's all very well,” said Bradwyn, “but there has been too much arrangement in that marriage! I can tell you how the engagement came about. She was intimate with his aunt. He acquired the habit of her society on all decorous occasions. Still, he never proposed. The aunt invited her to Almouth. She stayed two months. Still, not a word. Her papa grew impatient, ordered her home. The next day she came to the breakfast-table with red eyes, and announced her departure. The boxes were packed; she went to take a last look at the dear garden. Reckage followed, Fate accompanied him. He spoke. She sent a telegram to her papa: ‘Detained. Important. Will write.’ No, the real woman for him was Lady Sara de Treverell.”
Ullweather thrust his tongue into his cheek.
“Lady Sara has been called to higher destinies,” said he, “than the heavenly ‘sweet hand in hand!’”
“I see you know,” said Bradwyn, with a mysterious glance.
“Yes,” said Ullweather. “The friendship of the Duke of Marshire for Lady Sara increases every day, and the little fit of giddiness which seized him when he was dining with my Chief makes me think that admiration is developing into love. I am in great hopes that this match may come off.”
“As to that,” said Hatchett, “her father and the Duke were the night before last at Brooks's, but no conversation passed between them. This does not look as though a very near alliance were in contemplation.”
“There are prettier women than she in the world,” said Aumerle.
“I have never seen her,” said Penborough.