This angered her, and she said, after a moment,—
“I presume you will take an early opportunity of telling Sir Peter and Lady Hawkshaw that I saw Philip Overton alone in this house, at five o’clock yesterday morning?”
“I am quite unaware, Madam,” replied I, stung by this, “of anything in my character or conduct which could induce you to think such a thing of me.”
“You made me no promise not to tell,” she said.
“Certainly not. But some things are considered universally binding among gentlemen, and one is to tell nothing to the disadvantage of a woman. I neither made, nor will make, a promise about that affair; but if it is ever known, it will be you or Overton who tells it, not I.”
And I walked out of the room.
I speedily found, after that, my life in Berkeley Square uncomfortable. I felt constrained before Lady Arabella, and, what seemed strange to me, little Daphne, who had hitherto treated me with greatest kindness, seemed to take a spite at me, and her gibes and cuts were hard to bear. Neither Sir Peter nor Lady Hawkshaw noted these things, but they were strong enough to impel me to ask Sir Peter to look out for a ship for me at the Admiralty.
I saw Giles Vernon every day, and he continued to come, with unabated assurance, to Berkeley Square. We were not anxious that the fact of the duel should leak out, and Overton was especially desirous to keep it quiet. Of course, he came no more to Berkeley Square, and withdrew more and more from his former associates. He began to consort much with persons of the John Wesley persuasion, spending much of his time, when not on duty, at Oxford, where the Wesleyans were numerous at the time. I noticed that Lady Arabella treated Giles, and me, also, with more civility than she had hitherto shown. I could not think it sincere, but attributed it to a natural desire to conciliate those who knew so much to her disadvantage. But that she made no effort to overcome her infatuation for Overton, I very soon had proof. Sir Thomas Vernon, soon after this, had the assurance to present himself in Berkeley Square, and rare sport it was. Lady Hawkshaw, Lady Arabella, Daphne, myself, and one or two other persons were in the Chinese drawing-room when he was ushered in.
Lady Hawkshaw and Sir Thomas were old acquaintances, and had been at feud for more than thirty years, neither side asking or giving quarter. Sir Thomas had a shrewd wit of his own, and was more nearly a match for Lady Hawkshaw than any one I had yet seen. He opened the ball by remarking on Lady Hawkshaw’s improved appearance, partly due, he thought, to her triumph in getting the K. C. B. for Sir Peter. This nettled Lady Hawkshaw extremely, and she retaliated by telling Sir Thomas that he looked younger than he did when she first knew him, thirty years ago. As Sir Thomas hated any allusion to his age, this shot told.
“And allow me to congratulate you, Sir Thomas,” added Lady Hawkshaw, “upon your very promising cousin, Mr. Giles Vernon. Sir Peter has the highest opinion of him, and he has won the favor of the bong-tong to an extraordinary degree.”