Macfarren went through with a rapid mental calculation. A brilliant idea suddenly came to him. Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp, one of the most distinguished women of New York society, had come to the hotel for a few days while her Fifth Avenue mansion was in the hands of the decorators. He knew her, and knew her weakness for the English aristocracy. She dearly loved a lord, and, next to that, any member of a peer's family. So, after an instant's thought, he responded:
"I'll get Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp."
Marian seemed anything but struck by the name.
"And who is Dame Van Tromp?" she demanded, haughtily.
Macfarren was a brave man, but at that he quaked. Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp's husband was a silent partner in one of the greatest silk-importing firms in New York, and, although Mrs. Van Tromp considered the fact that her husband's name did not appear in the firm-name relieved him from the stigma of work, yet it would be hard to make that nice distinction clear to Marian. So, after an uneasy pause, Macfarren could only blurt out:
"She is the wife of a silk-merchant."
Lady Marian surveyed him with a wide-eyed amazement, not unmixed with contempt.
"A mercer's wife to attend the daughter of Lord Howard de Winstanley? Nay, hadst thou not better call the kitchen scullion to keep her company? Friend, I like thee well, but I fear thou art a stranger to good company."
Macfarren, thoroughly abashed, remained silent, while a burning blush came to his face. The unmerited scorn of this lovely girl was hard to bear.
"Dost thou not know some one of rank to keep me company?" she asked, presently, with some petulance.