That morning, Mrs. Calverley's lady's-maid, Laura, had delivered to her mistress a little billet doux from Lord Courland, entreating the favour of a private interview.
The request was granted, and, through the instrumentality of Mr. Higgins, who was consulted by Laura, it was arranged that the meeting should take place in the drawing-room, the obliging butler undertaking that the pair should not be interrupted.
Never had the charming widow looked more beautiful than on that morning.
As she sat in the drawing-room awaiting Lord Cour-land's appearance, her breast swelled with triumph, and her eyes shone with more than their customary splendour.
Great pains had been taken with her toilette by Laura, who assured her, with a smile, that she looked enchanting, and added that there was not another person in the house to be compared with her.
The fair widow believed what was said, and might be excused for doing so under the circumstances, since she had at once carried off the grand prize from those whom she regarded as competitors.
Lord Courland was enraptured when he beheld her.
He did not throw himself literally at her feet when the discreet Higgins, who had ushered him into the room, had retired, but he manifested all the ardour of an impassioned lover.
He gave utterance to a few expressions of delight as he sat down beside her on the sofa, and pressed her hand to his lips, but his looks were far more eloquent than his words.