"Oh, done in excellent style, as all that Lady Glenmore does must be—a-hem! quite in good taste; no distortions or hysterics or vulgar violences; all suavity and gentleness—a-hem! never saw so beautiful a specimen of feint in my life—hem!"
At that moment Lord D'Esterre came up to make his bow to Lady Glenmore, and the Comtesse Leinsengen walked abruptly away, saying, "De very sight of dat man gives me what you call de blue and de green devils."
But Lady Hamlet Vernon was quite of a different opinion; she had long been a fixture in the door-way, looking anxiously for his arrival. It was late when he came, and she sought to attract his attention, and engage him in conversation. Solicitous as she was to learn the cause of his having left her in such an unaccountable manner in Cleveland-row, she did not immediately enter upon that subject, but said something expressive of a general interest in his welfare, and of concern at seeing him look unwell. He eluded her inquiries, and professed being in perfect health; but she was evidently aware that his mind had undergone some sudden change since she had seen him at the drawing-room, for he no longer spoke in the abstracted manner he had done when there, but joined with an apparent animation and interest in a conversation which she dexterously led to topics that she knew to be most in accordance with his tastes and habits, and particularly so when he was depressed and under the influence of blighted feelings; at which times he never failed to seek refuge in dreams of ambition and power.
Though Lord Albert D'Esterre had never yet arrived at that degree of intimacy with Lady Hamlet Vernon which might have induced him to open his whole heart to her, on its dearest interests, yet there always seemed to him to be a tacit and delicate understanding of his sentiments, which he felt was soothing, and believed was sincere; while, on her part, there was a consummate art in appearing to compassionate his disappointment, while, at the same time, she never failed in administering some baneful suspicion, or insinuating some deteriorating observation on the character and conduct of Lady Adeline and her mother, in respect to their behaviour towards himself.
Had Lady Hamlet Vernon, by any incautious or violent language, betrayed her own malignant feelings, his eyes would have been at once unsealed; but all she said was so well adapted to effect what she intended, to throw his mind into a sea of doubts, and yet leave no suspicion of her intending to do so, that he yielded, by degrees, an unwilling belief to this sapping, undermining influence, so totally destructive of his peace.
While listening to discourse of this kind, their conversation was interrupted by Lord Raynham's addressing Lady Hamlet Vernon as he passed her, putting some common-place question (to which, however, he did not wait to hear an answer) about the ensuing breakfast, and then he walked on, talking to himself as usual.
Lady Hamlet Vernon turned quickly to Lord Albert, saying, "Of course you must be there!"
He replied vaguely, apparently not knowing what he was saying; and it was evident to Lady Hamlet Vernon, that, for some reason or other, the mention of the breakfast raised in his mind a perplexity of thoughts, for he relapsed into an abstracted mood, and became perfectly silent. She was too wary to make any direct observation upon this, and too much accustomed to the fluctuation of his spirits not to know that they must be suffered to ebb and flow without animadversion on her part, if she desired to maintain her influence over him; but she determined secretly to trace the cause of this sudden change to its source, and felt sure that there was something connected with the breakfast of higher interest to him than itself. She endeavoured to regain his attention by turning her conversation into other channels; but in vain: the spell was on him, and soon afterwards he glided from her side and left the assembly.
Lady Glenmore's party was prolonged to a late hour, and when the people began to move, a considerable time elapsed before they could all depart. To dissipate the ennui of these last moments, Lady Glenmore went to her piano-forte, and, in that excitement of spirit which the incense of flattery and the consciousness of worldly success inspires, she sang in her very best manner and in her most brilliant style, and was herself so absorbed in the sweet sounds she made, that she perceived not that the last of her visitors was gone, till, on looking up, she beheld no one save Mr. Leslie Winyard leaning over her chair. Abashed and somewhat confused, she scarce knew why, Lady Glenmore was about to rise, when Mr. Winyard entreated her just to finish the romance. "It is only two stanzas more," he said, in his most entreating and persuasive tone. Fluttered, and not wishing to show she was so, she thought it better to comply, and endeavour to recover herself while singing. In this she succeeded to a certain degree; and having sang the two stanzas he pleaded for, she arose with an intention of immediately retiring, when Mr. Leslie Winyard, who had always l'apropos du moment at command, contrived again to arrest her departure, by starting some question which she could not avoid answering, and then proceeding to further converse; while Lady Glenmore, on her part, caught by the glitter of his wit, was amused, and laughed in gaiety of spirit.
This scene had continued fully half an hour after every body had left the room, when Lord Boileau, who had been one of the last to go away, made his reappearance suddenly in the apartment where they were sitting.