Mr. Marx's Secret

  CHAPTER XXIV. MY FIRST DINNER PARTY.

  At a quarter to eight I stood in the great hall of Ravenor Castle. On myfirst visit its vastness and gloom had somewhat chilled me; now it wasaltogether different. A small army of servants in picturesque livery andwith powdered hair were moving noiselessly about. Soft lights wereburning on many brackets, dispelling the deep shades which had hungsomewhat drearily about; and there was a fragrant perfume of flowers anda pleasant sense of warmth in the air. I began to understand at once thestories I had heard of the luxury and magnificence with which Mr. Ravenorentertained his guests on the rare occasions when he threw open hisdoors.

  Mr. Ravenor was in his private rooms, I was told, and his own groom ofthe chambers, who had been summoned to take my name, ushered me, after amoment's hesitation, into the library. I walked to the fire, for I wascold, probably through being unused to wearing such thin clothes; and,standing there with my hands behind my back, looked around with a feelingalmost of awe at the vast collection of books with which I wassurrounded.

  "And who are you, please?"

  I started and looked in the direction from which the voice--a sweet,childish treble--came. Seated demurely in the centre of a large armchair,with tumbled hair, and a book upon her lap, was a very young lady. Herclear blue eyes were fixed calmly but inquiringly upon me, as thoughexpecting an immediate answer, and there was a slight frown upon herforehead. Altogether, for such a diminutive maiden, she appeared ratherformidable.

  "I didn't know that you were there," I said, in explanation of my start."My name is Morton--Philip Morton."

  She looked me over gravely and critically, and succeeded in making mefeel uncomfortable. Apparently, however, the examination ended in myfavour, for the frown disappeared and she closed her book.

  "Philip is pretty," she said condescendingly. "I don't think much ofMorton. I rather like Philip, though."

  "I--I'm glad of that," I answered lamely. It was very ridiculous, but Icould think of nothing else to say. I wanted to say something brilliant,but it wouldn't come; so I stood still and looked at her and got ratherred in the face.

  "Do you know who I am?" she asked.

  "Haven't the least idea," I admitted.

  She leaned her small, delicate head upon her hand and began swaying herfeet slowly backwards and forwards.

  "I am Lady Beatrice Cecilia--my mother is Lady Silchester," she said. "Doyou think it is a pretty name?"

  "Very," I answered, biting my lip; "much prettier than mine."

  "Do you know, I think you are a nice boy!" she proceeded. "I rather likeyou."

  "I'm so glad!" I answered, feeling unreasonably delighted. "I'm sure thatI like you," I added fervently.

  "It's very good of you to say so, when you've only just seen me," sheremarked; "but you can't be quite sure. You don't know anything about me,you see. I might be dreadfully disagreeable."

  "But I'm sure you're not," I answered, feeling that I was getting on.

  She was good enough to seem pleased at my confidence; but she made nofurther remark for a minute or two, during which I racked my brains invain for some effective remark, with my eyes fixed upon her. Shecertainly made a very charming picture, curled up in the great black oakchair, with the firelight playing upon her ruddy golden hair andglistening in her bright eyes.

  "You've been reading, haven't you?" I asked, pointing to the book whichlay in her lap.

  "It's not a nice book at all!" she said decidedly. "I don't like any ofthe books here. Oh!"

  I turned round quickly, for I saw that she was looking behind me.Standing on the threshold of his inner room was the tall, dark figure ofMr. Ravenor, handsomer than ever, it seemed to me, in his plain eveningdress.

  Slowly he advanced out of the shadows, with a faint smile upon his paleface, and laid his hand upon her shoulder, looking first at my littlehostess and then at me.

  "So you've been entertaining one of my guests for me, Trixie, have you?"he said. "Rather late for you to be up, isn't it? Your nurse has beenlooking for you everywhere."

  "Then I suppose I must go," Lady Beatrice Cecilia remarked deliberately.She rose, shook her hair out, and, replacing the book which she had beenreading upon the shelf, prepared to depart. But first she came up towhere I was standing on the hearthrug and held out her little white hand.

  "Good-night, Philip Morton," she said, looking up at me with a gravesmile. "I am very glad that you came in here to talk to me. I was sodull."

  I made some reciprocative speech, which, if it was somewhat awkwardlyexpressed, had at least the merit of earnestness, and my eyes followedher admiringly as she walked to the door and disappeared with a backwardglance and a smile. Then I started and coloured, to find that Mr. Ravenorwas watching me.

  "I don't know why they should have brought you here," he said. "Come thisway."

  I followed Mr. Ravenor across the hall into a suite of rooms hung withsatin, opening out one from another, and seeming to my inexperience likea succession of brilliantly-lit fairy chambers. In the smallest and mostremote room three men were standing talking together, and in a low chairby their side reclined Lady Silchester, holding a dainty screen ofpeacock feathers between her face and the fire, and listening to theconversation with a slightly bored air. She was in full evening toilette,and several rows of diamonds flashed and sparkled with every rise andfall of her snow-white throat. Afterwards I grew to look upon LadySilchester as a good type of the well-bred society woman; but then shewas a revelation to me--the revelation of a new species.

  My appearance seemed at first to surprise and then slightly to discomposeher, but both emotions passed away at once and she welcomed me with acharming little smile as she languidly raised her hand and placed itwithin mine for a moment.

  At our entrance the conversation ceased for a moment. Mr. Ravenor laidhis hand upon my shoulder and turned towards the little group.

  "Sir Richard, let me introduce to you a young ward of mine and a discipleof yours. Sir Richard Hibbet--Mr. Morton; Professor Marris--Mr. Morton;Mr. Later--Mr. Morton."

  They all shook hands with me, and, widening their circle a little,continued the conversation.

  This was interrupted presently by the announcement of dinner, theProfessor taking in our hostess, the others following, Mr. Ravenor and Ibringing up the rear.

  There was no lack of conversation during dinner, though gradually itturned towards purely literary matters and remained there. To me it wasaltogether fascinating, although it was often beyond my comprehension.

  Long after Lady Silchester had departed we sat round the small tableglittering with plate and finely-cut glass, and loaded with choiceflowers and wonderful fruits; and my senses were almost dazed by thebrilliancy of my material surroundings, and the ever-flowingconversation, which seemed always to be teaching me something new andopening up fresh fields of thought. At times I scarcely knew which mostto admire--the dry, pungent wit and caustic remarks of the Professor; theperfectly expressed, classical English of Mr. Later; the sound, goodsense of Sir Richard, seasoned with an apparently inexhaustible stock ofanecdotes and quotations culled from all imaginable sources; or thebrilliant epigrams, the trenchant criticisms, and the occasional flashesof genuine eloquence by means of which Mr. Ravenor, with rare art,continually stimulated the talk.

  Almost unnoticed, Mr. Marx, still in his morning coat, with pale face anddark rims under his eyes, had entered and sank wearily into a seat; but,although he listened with apparent interest, he took no part in the warof words which was flashing around him. Suddenly it all came to an end.Mr. Ravenor glanced at his watch and rose.

  "Gentlemen," he said, "I must ask you to excuse me for an hour. If youcare to see the library, Mr. Marx will show it you, or the smoking-roomand billiard-room are at your service. Or if you care to remain herethere is plenty more of the yellow-seal claret and the cigars are uponthe table. Philip, I want you."

  I rose and followed him towards the door. As I did so I ha
d to pass Mr.Marx, who had left his seat on some pretext. He leaned over towards me,haggard and pale, and pushed a slip of paper into my fingers.

  "Read it at once," he muttered, in a quick, low tone. Then he moved upand took Mr. Ravenor's place at the head of the table.

  I felt inclined to throw it back to him; but I did not. Passing acrossthe hall, I unfolded it and read these few words, scrawled in a large,shaking hand:

  "You must not go to Dr. Randall's. Mr. Ravenor will give you a choice. Goanywhere but there. If you neglect this warning you will repent it allyour life. I swear it. Tear this up,"