He sounded it obedient and the little black boy ran in grinning and bowing.
“Conduct this lady to the ante-room and send for Mrs. Francis. Adieu for the moment, Madam. I’ll see you again presently.”
And Diana thankfully followed the little black sprite attended by Mr. Gay, and leaving my Lady Fanny in a bewilderment not to be described, and this for a reason presently to be mentioned. She scented a secret but for the life of her could not tell its cause. The Duchess still standing she rose also, her pride taking the alarm.
“Your Grace is engaged, and as I hope to see you no later than Tuesday I’ll bid you adieu now. I need not ask if you are pure well, I never saw you look so charmingly!”
They kissed again, and curtseyed, and ’tis very possible her Ladyship hastened her departure in hopes to catch the fair mystery still in the ante-room, but if so she was disappointed. She threw a look over her shoulder at the American Prince, but he was engrossed with his friend and only performed a bow of prodigious grace and suavity.
That night again did my Lady Fanny take pen in hand, and writ a portion of her heart—for what woman can write all?—to her cousin in Ireland.
“My kind Kitty, whose sensibility and feeling heart are always my consolation, here come I again with my pack of news. With my own I’ll begin, for indeed I have perplexities that need counsel, and your latest letter is so kind, so sisterly in its terms as draws out all my confidence. But are you well, Kitty, and how does Sir Richard and the sweet boy?
“I writ you of Bas in my last and I thought in this to tell you he was at my feet openly, as indeed he hath been almost publicly this two years. And now—I can’t say it as I would—’tis so perplexing!—but we seem no nearer than a fortnight since. O Kitty, let your calmer mind consider what I shall tell and reply as frank as if you were my father-confessor, for in this gay glittering world I live in, honesty’s much rarer than diamonds, and more to be valued.
“After I sealed my last letter I had a billet from Bas, and certainly any woman had called it a declaration though ’twas but to bid me to a water-party. ‘More, much more I will say when we meet,’ it ended, and I may say that when we took boat I thought I saw in him my pledged lover. ’Twas a small party, but merry, and as we rowed up the river, Mrs. Sandford sang so charmingly that several other boats rowed up pretty near as to share in the concert.
“I saw in one as pretty a young woman as ever I beheld in my life, dark hair and what your Sir Richard calls violet eyes, an uncommon combination, her dress merely so-so, and the persons with her of no condition. What’s all this preamble then? says Kitty. Who cares for the rascality that takes the air in skiffs on the Thames? Well, but wait, Kitty! I saw her glance at Bas, and as plain as possible she blushed up to her eyes and turned her head away. I can’t be sure if he saluted her or no for my eye was fixed on her at the moment, but I saw her speak to the watermen and they rowed ahead of us. She had an old woman with her for duenna, and an elderly man for cargo. Nothing, you’ll say, but listen. Later in the day we moored by one of the aits in the river, and ate our refreshments under the willows. And sudden, from t’other side of the island arose the most delicious warbling. Larks my dear Kitty, nightingales, ’twas like a whole choir of them singing clear as dew drops. We all hushed our breath to listen, poor Mrs. Sandford entirely out-piped, and the sound ringing over the water as if the sirens was singing. I turned that Bas might join in my delight, and, O Kitty, ’twas more than music that caused his disorder. I noted a kind of—How to describe it?—consciousness. Not a blush nor a tremor (men don’t do the like!) but, in a word, I knew ’twas not merely the singing—‘I attempt from Love’s sickness to fly,’ but something deeper. She sang again with ravishing sweetness the chief soprano air from Mr. Handel’s opera, ‘King Richard the First,’ and I protest the very leaves hung silent till she ended. Her boat then put out and crost ours and behold! the same pretty young woman I saw before, singing as if to delight herself, for certainly neither of her companions, had souls for music. She stopt instantly on seeing us and looked away, and so it past off, but, Kitty, we landed on the island and wandered hither and thither, and though ’tis small there was opportunity for any lover. But Bas was always concerned with Mrs. Sandford or Lady Mary unless I had another of the company and then was assiduous in his gallantries at once. Kitty, couldn’t I read him like a book?