“Well, Sleech, you have done the thing well,” cried the admiral. “I little thought to see anybody else than an Everard in this house. However, the world’s turned upside down; rogues get into honest men’s places, and honest men come to the wall—that’s the way affairs go at present.”
“I am obliged to you for the compliment, Sir James,” answered Mr Sleech, again bowing, and not knowing whether to take offence.
“I don’t mean to call you a rogue, Sleech, of course,” answered the admiral, intending to exculpate himself. “Never think of calling a man a rogue in his own house, whatever I may think about the matter.”
Happily for both parties, the conversation was cut short by the entrance of General and Mrs Perkins, whose tall figures completely overwhelmed that of the somewhat diminutive lawyer. Again he bowed as before, now to the lady, now to the gentleman, who returned his salutations in a somewhat cold manner, and passed on, looking round the rooms with inquisitive glances, and making remarks as they passed along. The Misses Sleech curtseyed as before. Mrs Perkins returned their salutes with one of her stiffest bows. Now the people came trooping in more rapidly, and the music at length struck up, to call the dancers into the ball-room, where M. Millepied had been engaged as master of the ceremonies. Bowing to the guests, he assumed his responsible office. Still Mr Sleech looked round in vain for those he would most have delighted to see. There were several whose names he would not have valued much at the back of a bill, and not a few ladies whose characters would certainly have ill borne any very minute examination. Still he hoped that they would not be observed in the crowd, or attempt to make themselves conspicuous. Vain hope. Their names were quickly buzzed about, and they took good care to be seen dancing with the most dashing of the officers, while they paid constant and especial attention to the Misses Sleech.
At length a real English countess arrived.
She had lately come to Lynderton, and knew very little of the politics of the place, but having received the Misses Sleech’s card and an invitation to Stanmore, which she knew to be the principal house in the neighbourhood, her ladyship had accepted the invitation. It is possible that she might have been surprised at the appearance of Mr Sleech and his family, but was certainly too well-bred to exhibit her opinion. She passed on with her daughters, hoping to take up a retired position, where she could observe what was going on without herself attracting attention. Mr Sleech, however, was far too delighted at the honour done him to allow her to carry out her intention, and every instant he was coming up and making one of his flourishing bows, either with offers of refreshment, or with a request of being allowed the honour of introducing most eligible partners to Lady Mary and Lady Grace. They, however, from the first, declined dancing, after which, even had they desired it, they could not, without offending those who had first offered, have accepted other partners.
Mr Sleech was on his way, for about the twentieth time, to the countess, when his eldest daughter came up to him, and, in a hurried voice, said that a person wished to see him on important business.
“Tell him to come in, then; I cannot come out to see him. If he has got any message to deliver he must deliver it here,” answered Mr Sleech, scarcely knowing what he was saying.
His daughter hurried off. Soon afterwards a man was seen in a horseman’s suit passing among the gaily-dressed throng towards the master of the house.
“Who do you come from?” asked Mr Sleech, eyeing him narrowly.