The commissioner went out of the room, and a few minutes afterwards returned, and taking Mrs. Falconer aside, said, “I have something to tell you, my dear, that will surprise you—indeed I can scarcely believe it. Long as I have known Lord Oldborough, I never knew him do, or think of doing such a thing—and he ill—at least ill enough with the gout, for an excuse—an excuse he thought sufficient for the whole county—and there are people of so much more consequence—I protest I cannot understand it.”
“Understand what, commissioner?—Will you tell me what has happened, and you may be as much surprised as you please afterwards? Lord Oldborough has the gout,” added she, in an accent which expressed “Well, all the world knows that.”
“Lord Oldborough’s own confidential man Rodney, you know—”
“Well, well, Rodney I do know—what of him?”
“He is here—I have seen him this instant—from his lord, with a message to Mr. Percy, to let him know that there are apartments prepared for him and all his family at Clermont-park; and that he insists upon their not returning this night to the Hills, lest the ladies should be tired.”
“Lord Oldborough!” repeated Mrs. Falconer; “Lord Oldborough!—the ladies!—Clermont-park! where none but persons of the first distinction are invited!”
“Ay, now you are surprised,” cried the commissioner.
“Surprised! beyond all power of expression,” said Mrs. Falconer.
“Beyond all power of dissimulation,” she should have said.
“Count Altenberg, too, going to hand them to their carriage—going to Clermont-park with them!—I wish to Heaven,” said Mrs. Falconer to herself, “I had never given this unfortunate ball!”