CHAPTER I.
_Once More at Dacre_
MISS DACRE, although she was prepared to greet the Duke of St. Jameswith cordiality, did not anticipate with equal pleasure the arrivalof the page and the jaeger. Infinite had been the disturbances they hadoccasioned during their first visit, and endless the complaints of thesteward and the housekeeper. The men-servants were initiated inthe mysteries of dominoes, and the maid-servants in the tactics offlirtation. Karlstein was the hero of the under-butlers, and even thetrusty guardian of the cellar himself was too often on the point ofobtaining the German's opinion of his master's German wines. Gaming, anddrunkenness, and love, the most productive of all the teeming causesof human sorrow, had in a week sadly disordered the well-regulatedhousehold of Castle Dacre, and nothing but the impetuosity of our herowould have saved his host's establishment from utter perdition. MissDacre was, therefore, not less pleased than surprised when the britzskaof the Duke of St. James discharged on a fine afternoon, its noblemaster, attended only by the faithful Luigi, at the terrace of theCastle.
A few country cousins, fresh from Cumberland, who knew nothing of theDuke of St. James except from a stray number of 'The Universe,' whichoccasionally stole down to corrupt the pure waters of their lakes, werethe only guests. Mr. Dacre grasped our hero's hand with a warmth andexpression which were unusual with him, but which conveyed, better thanwords, the depth of his friendship; and his daughter, who looked morebeautiful than ever, advanced with a beaming face and joyous tone, whichquite reconciled the Duke of St. James to being a ruined man.
The presence of strangers limited their conversation to subjects ofgeneral interest. At dinner, the Duke took care to be agreeable: hetalked in an unaffected manner, and particularly to the cousins, whowere all delighted with him, and found him 'quite a different personfrom what they had fancied.' The evening passed over, and even lightly,without the aid of _ecarte_, romances, or gallops. Mr. Dacre chattedwith old Mr. Montingford, and old Mrs. Montingford sat still admiringher 'girls,' who stood still admiring May Dacre singing or talking, andoccasionally reconciled us to their occasional silence by a frequentand extremely hearty laugh; that Cumberland laugh which never outlives asingle season in London.
And the Duke of St. James, what did he do? It must be confessed that insome points he greatly resembled the Misses Montingford, for he was bothsilent and admiring; but he never laughed. Yet he was not dull, andwas careful not to show that he had cares, which is vulgar. If a man begloomy, let him keep to himself. No one has a right to go croakingabout society, or, what is worse, looking as if he stifled grief. Thesefellows should be put in the pound. We like a good broken heart or sonow and then; but then one should retire to the Sierra Morena mountains,and live upon locusts and wild honey, not 'dine out' with our crackedcores, and, while we are meditating suicide, the Gazette, or theChiltern Hundreds, damn a vintage or eulogise an _entree_.
And as for cares, what are cares when a man is in love? Once more theyhad met; once more he gazed upon that sunny and sparkling face; oncemore he listened to that sweet and thrilling voice, which sounded likea bird-like burst of music upon a summer morning. She moved, and eachattitude was fascination. She was still, and he regretted that shemoved. Now her neck, now her hair, now her round arm, now her taperingwaist, ravished his attention; now he is in ecstasies with her twinklingfoot; now he is dazzled with her glancing hand.
Once more he was at Dacre! How different was this meeting to theirfirst! Then, she was cold, almost cutting; then she was disregardful,almost contemptuous; but then he had hoped; ah! madman, he had more thanhoped. Now she was warm, almost affectionate; now she listened to himwith readiness, ay! almost courted his conversation. And now he couldonly despair. As he stood alone before the fire, chewing this bittercud, she approached him.
'How good you were to come directly!' she said with a smile, whichmelted his heart. 'I fear, however, you will not find us so merry asbefore. But you can make anything amusing. Come, then, and sing to thesedamsels. Do you know they are half afraid of you? and I cannot persuadethem that a terrible magician has not assumed, for the nonce, the airand appearance of a young gentleman of distinction.'
He smiled, but could not speak. Repartee sadly deserts the lover; yetsmiles, under those circumstances, are eloquent; and the eye, after all,speaks much more to the purpose than the tongue. Forgetting everythingexcept the person who addressed him, he offered her his hand, andadvanced to the group which surrounded the piano.