“You have made a great mistake,” I said; “that is very certain. Now let us have no more talk of such things, Harry.”
Lord Chudleigh came at that moment to lead me in to supper. I thought very little of what had passed, being only a little vexed that Harry had made so great a blunder.
The supper was pleasant too, with plenty of wax candles, cold chickens, capons, wheat-ears, ice-creams, and champagne, which is certainly the most delicious wine ever made.
After supper, my lord asked me if there was any friend of mine whom I would especially like to be invited to his party at Durdans?
I named Harry Temple, whom my lord immediately sought out, and invited in my name. Harry bowed sulkily, but accepted.
“Is there any person,” Lord Chudleigh asked next, “whom you would like not to be asked?”
“No,” I said; “I have no enemies.”
“As if the Queen of the Wells could avoid having enemies?” he laughed. “But there are none who can do you harm, even by the venom of spiteful tongues.”
He was silent for a minute or two, and then he went on, with hesitation—
“Pardon me, Miss Pleydell: I have no right to speak of these things to you; my interest is greater than my politeness, and I venture to ask you a question.”