"We regret that you do not accompany us, Mr. Titmouse," said Lady Cecilia, slightly inclining towards him, and glancing at Miss Macspleuchan with a faint and bitter smile.
"Should have been most uncommon proud to have gone, please your Ladyship," replied Titmouse, as a servant brought him a cup of tea. "These cups and saucers, my Lady, come from abroad, I suppose? Now, I dare say, though they've rather a funny look, they cost a good deal?"
"I really do not know, sir; I believe we have had them some time."
"'Pon my life, my Lady, I like them amazing!" Seeing her Ladyship not disposed to talk, Titmouse became silent.
"Are you fond of music, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired the earl, presently; observing that the pause in the conversation had become embarrassing to Titmouse.
"Very, indeed, my Lord; is your Lordship?"
"I am rather fond of vocal music, sir—of the opera."
This the earl said, because Miss Macspleuchan played upon the piano very brilliantly, and did not sing. Miss Macspleuchan understood him.
"Do you play upon any instrument, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired Lady Cecilia, with a smile lurking about her lips, which increased a little when Titmouse replied in the negative;—but added that, he had once begun to learn the clarionet some years before, but could not manage the notes. "Excuse me, my Lady, but what an uncommon fine piano that is!" said he.—"If I may make so bold, will your Ladyship give us a tune?"
"I dare say Miss Macspleuchan will play for you, Mr. Titmouse, if you wish it," replied Lady Cecilia, coldly.