He found, on entering the gorgeously furnished apartment, his wife and daughters entertaining the new arrivals after the manner of the House—always excepting Evangeline, who sat back in a window recess, as if she had no business there.
A few words of stately congratulation and welcome from Mr. Grahame, and the whole party returned to the position which it occupied when he entered.
The keen eye of Mr. Grahame ran over the forms of the two young men who were thus introduced into his family for the first time, and naturally the young Duke was the first to attract his attention.
He was tall—over six feet, and stout with his height. He was fair, with round blue eyes, a small mouth, and no whiskers upon his cheeks or moustache upon his upper lip, or the sign of a hair in the vicinity.
His hands and feet were small, but there was a bulky, plethoric character about his frame, and his legs had an ungraceful leaning to knock-kneeism.
The tone of his voice was rich and not unmusical; but, like many members of the aristocracy, his tongue refused to have anything to do with the letter r, and, as a not unusual consequence, he used words containing that letter more frequently than did persons who could sound it like the roll of a drumstick upon a kettle-drum.
He was dressed elegantly. The jewellery he wore, though spare in quantity, was superb in material, and super-eminently costly.
The Honorable Lester Vane was of an entirely different stamp; and could, perhaps, have better sustained the character of a duke than his friend. Standing about five feet ten, he was remarkably well-formed and erect, and seemed to be at least six feet high. He was dark; and, though not a military man, wore a handsomely-shaped and trimmed moustache: his features were regular and well-shaped: his eyes were a very dark blue, and shaded by long black eyelashes: his hair and whiskers being of the same hue as the latter. His hands were white and small, and his feet were equally neat in their proportions. He was dressed with consummate taste and care, and of all men was calculated to attract the notice of women.
Malcolm Grahame, short in stature, was a rather ugly likeness of his sister Margaret, possessing all her pride, but not enough of her studied coldness to prevent it becoming vulgar arrogance. He was rather overdressed, too; and, altogether, presented a remarkable contrast to his college companions. It was soon perceptible that he toadied them, and that they both held him at no very flattering height in their estimation.
Why, then, did they accompany him home? An answer to that question might have been found in the glances bestowed by both the young men on the beautiful Helen Grahame, who, conscious of her own charms, received the homage of their eyes as simply her due. They were both, very shortly after their introduction, aware that she interpreted their looks of admiration, rather steadfastly bestowed—that they did not surprise nor did they abash her—nay, when, to show her power, she flashed those brilliant orbs upon them by turns, with a clear, steadfast gaze, they were fain to let their eyelids fall, to screen their unsteady eyes from the direct, unfaltering look she bent upon them.