"After that," said Winter, at the end of a chorus of applause, "not another word or note. Good night, Colonel; you Nightingale, la vostra bocca sana qual che tocca!"
I joined the others in making my adieus; heard something about Mr. Winter calling on me the next day, and walked to my hotel, through the moonlit streets in a state of trance, lulled by the music and indescribable effect of the whole evening, into a delicious calm, which raised me pro tem. far above all sublunary interests.
CHAPTER V.
SKETCHERS AND SKETCHES.
How well I remember the philosophic contempt for wealth with which I awoke the following morning! Here, I thought, is grace, refinement, and good breeding, in unpretending guise, the very simplicity that surrounds them seems to give additional force to their effect—nothing appears out of place, no London bred cook or butler ever turned out a more delicious or better served repast, than Vernon's dinner yesterday. What is the magic of all this? Winter is a curious specimen of humanity, yet he filled up his niche in the little party as no one else could; nor can I fancy him out of his element in any society. What an extraordinary contrast between Kate and that little deformed organist! Unfortunate creature, and yet he appears perfectly happy! With what empressement the old Colonel and his sweet granddaughter welcome him. And Kate herself, there is so much happiness in the calm repose of her countenance, and her brilliant smile; one would imagine her to be of fortune's favourites, the most favoured, yet what a life of complete retirement she must lead. She said she had not worn an evening dress for two years, till at that lucky ball. Is her society made up of a brace and a half of oddities and a big dog? I wonder how my sister Mary or Lady Georgina Lorton, or fifty others of my acquaintance, would stand such a life. They talk of a couple of months at the family seat, as if it was a life-long banishment on some desolate island. Yes, it must be a terrible life for her, cut off from all the bienséances of society—but where could I have spent so pleasant an evening? Where else have been so little bored by hacknied conversation? Thus I wandered through the vast field of speculation, opened up to my imagination by my yesterday's adventure. I could not bring myself to compassionate Vernon for his evident change of fortune, such a companionship and such a cottage must be well worth Dungar with all its beauties. Though, to be sure, he would have had Kate there; her manner, too, so unlike that of most women I had met. It never appeared to challenge admiration or to expect les petits soins; all was frank, cordial, kindly, real, yet monstrously unflattering to one's amour propre; though at times there was a tinge of coquetry in her way of evading, or turning into ridicule any attempt at a compliment. She certainly is charming, and I must make the best of my time while I am here; I suppose I must return to-morrow, so—
"Mr. Winter"—said the waiter.
"Good morning, Captain Egerton," said that worthy personage, apparently through a thicker stratum of mashed potatoes than ever, "I thought I'd catch you before you started on any explorations."
"You are very good; I am particularly fortunate in securing such a cicerone."
"I am very happy to be of any use to you; sketching, I fancy, is not a common taste among men of your profession?"