“I protest I never thought of it, till Lady Kew brought it to my recollection, by talking of Lady Angelica Headingham, and Sir James Harcourt, and all that.”
“But who was the gentleman?”
“That’s a secret,” replied Lady Trant.
“A secret!—A secret!—What is it? What is it?” cried Lady Frances Arlington, pressing into the midst of the party; for she was the most curious person imaginable.
Then heads joined, and Lady Trant whispered, and Lady Frances exclaimed aloud, “Hungerford?—Colonel Hungerford!”
“Fie! fie! Lady Frances,” cried Georgiana—and “Fie! fie! you are a pretty person to keep a secret,” cried Lady Trant: “I vow I’ll never trust your ladyship with a secret again—when you publish it in this way.”
“I vow you will,” said Lady Frances. “Why, you all know, in your hearts, you wish to publish it—else why tell it—especially to me? But all this time I am not thinking in the least about the matter, nor was I when I said Hungerford—I was and am thinking of my own affairs. What did I do with the letter I received this morning? I had it here—no, I hadn’t it—yes, I had—Anne!—Anne!—Lady Anne! the duchess’s letter: I gave it to you; what did you do with it?”
“La! it is somewhere, I suppose,” said Lady Anne, raising her head, and giving a vague look round the room.
Lady Frances made every one search their work-boxes, writing-boxes, and reticules; then went from table to table, opening and shutting all the drawers.
“Frances!—If you would not fly about so! What can it signify?” expostulated Lady Anne. But in vain; her sister went on, moving every thing and every body in the room, displacing all the cushions of all the chairs in her progress, and, at last, approached Lady Anne’s sofa, with intent to invade her repose.