Just as this inquisition had ceased, a servant entered with a few lines written in pencil on a card, which he gave to Lady Tenderden: they were from Mr. Leslie Winyard, to say, that having seen her carriage at the door, and having something very particular to communicate to her, he requested ten minutes' conversation, if he might be allowed to come up. Lady Tenderden remembered Lady Glenmore's former scruples about receiving him, but determined to overcome them.
"Chère ladi," she said, "you must positively, notwithstanding the fear of Lord Glenmore, allow me to see Mr. Leslie Winyard; I will take all the imminent risk of the danger upon myself; and besides, you know, visiting me is not visiting you." Lady Glenmore looked exceedingly distressed, and said, "If you want to speak to Mr. Leslie Winyard, why can you not speak to him in your carriage?"
"Oh! that is so uncomfortable. Besides, Lady Tilney, I appeal to you, was there ever any thing so strange as Lady Glenmore's refusing to let Mr. Leslie Winyard come up stairs to see me, merely because le tiran de mari does not approve of morning visits from gentlemen?"
"Pho, pho," said Lady Tilney, "he was only joking, and that dear little good Georgina thought he was serious." Then turning to the servant who was waiting for orders, "Shew Mr. Leslie Winyard up stairs directly," commanding, as she always did, or tried to do, in every place and every person. In a few minutes Mr. Leslie Winyard made his appearance; and having paid his compliments to Lady Glenmore and Lady Tilney for some little time, he then stepped aside with Lady Tenderden, and after conversing together, apparently engaged on a most interesting subject, they returned to the other ladies, and he entered into general conversation with his usual light and amusing anecdote. At length, however, Lady Tilney arose, saying to Mr. Winyard, "well, notwithstanding your agrémens, I must go, for I have a hundred things to do." Lady Tenderden echoed this declaration, and they both went away, leaving Mr. Leslie Winyard, who seemed determined to sit them out en tête-à-tête with Lady Glenmore.
The consciousness that any thing has been said on any subject, always creates in an unartificial mind an awkwardness when the predicament that has led to the discussion really occurs;—and Lady Glenmore experienced this painfully. Every instant the sensation became stronger, and, of course, was not lost to the observation of her companion, though he affected not to perceive it; and by dint of feigning ignorance, and talking on indifferent subjects, he arrived at bringing her into the calm and comfortable frame of mind he had in view, one in which she would feel le diable n'est pas si noir; and this he effected with his usual address, till he evidently saw that she was rather diverted than otherwise by his conversation.
He then led the discourse to music, and entreated her once more to sing the Sempre più t'amo of Caraffa. She readily agreed, and their voices were in beautiful and thrilling unison when the door opened, and in came Lord Glenmore. His wife suddenly stopped, and rising from the instrument, looked abashed. Lord Glenmore, with the manners of a man of the world, addressed Mr. Leslie Winyard, regretted that he had interrupted the music, declared that he had some letters to write, and prayed him to finish the duet. But Lady Glenmore tried in vain to recommence singing—her voice faltered, her hand trembled, as she touched the keys—her eyes wandered to her husband with an expression of inquiry and uneasiness; and Mr. Leslie, too much the man of the world, and too much skilled in his métier to push matters at an unfavourable moment, declared that he was exceedingly sorry, but found himself under the necessity of going away, having an appointment on business which he could not put off. Apologizing, therefore, to Lord Glenmore, to whom he always took care to pay particular deference, for not being able to remain, he hurried out.
Lady Glenmore hastened with considerable trepidation of manner to explain to her husband how it had chanced that he found her singing with Mr. Leslie Winyard; but Lord Glenmore seemed more deeply engaged in thinking of the letter he was perusing than of what she was saying, and only looked up smilingly in her face, and said, "My dear love, why are you so agitated about such a trifle?"—"Is it a trifle?" she said: "well, then, I need not care, and am quite happy again." She kissed his forehead; and further discourse was prevented by a servant's entering, to inform Lord Glenmore that Lord D'Esterre requested to see him if he was disengaged. Lord Glenmore immediately desired that he might be shewn into his private apartment; and at the same time gave orders that no one else might be admitted except the persons whose names were on the list; then pressing his wife's hand tenderly, but evidently much preoccupied in mind, he left the room.
"Is it possible," thought Lady Glenmore, looking after him—"can this be my husband, who so lately appeared to have no thought save what we mutually shared? and now we seem suddenly cast asunder: different interests, different hours, different societies, all seems to place us, as if by magic, apart, and to divide us from each other. He too, who dwelt so particularly on my not receiving morning visits from young men, now seems to think it is become a matter of indifference, or rather not to think about it at all. Has power then changed him so quickly? What a horrible thing power is!—how it transforms every thing into its own heartless self! Surely, surely, it is the most miserable thing in the world to be a minister's wife!" To dissipate the melancholy she felt, she ordered her carriage, and proceeded to visit her mother, who she found was ill, having caught cold in coming out of the Opera.
"Why did you not inform me of your indisposition before, dearest mamma?—I would have been here early?"