"Quelle fureur, dit-il, quei aveugle caprice
Quand Ie dîner est prêt."
BOILEAU.
"I HOPE your Lordship has no thoughts of waiting dinner for Lord Lindore?" asked Dr. Redgill, with a face of alarm, as seven o'clock struck, and neither dinner nor Lord Lindore appeared.
"I have no thoughts upon the subject," answered Lord Courtland, as he turned over some new caricatures with as much nonchalance as if it had been mid-day.
"That's enough, my Lord; but I suspect Mr. Marshall, in his officiousness, takes the liberty of thinking for you, and that we shall have no dinner without orders," rising to pull the bell.
"We ought undoubtedly to wait for Frederick," said Lady Juliana; "it is of no consequence when we sit down to table."
A violent yell from the sleeping Beauty on the rug sounded like a summary judgment on her mistress.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried her Ladyship, flying to the offended fair one, in all the transports of pity and indignation; "how can you, Dr. Redgill, presume to treat my dog in such a manner?"
"Me treat your Ladyship's dog!" exclaimed the Doctor in well-feigned astonishment—"Pon my honour!—I'm quite at a loss!—I'm absolutely confounded!"
"Yes! I saw you plainly give her a kick, and—"
"Me kick Beauty!—after that!—'Pon my soul, I should just as soon have thought of kicking my own grandmother. I did give her a leettle—a very leettle shove, just with the point of my toe, as I was going to pull the bell; but it couldn't have hurt a fly. I assure you it would be one of the last action of my life to treat Beauty ill—Beauty!—poor Beauty!"—affecting to pat and soothe, by way of covering his transgression. But neither Beauty nor her mistress were to be taken in by the Doctor's cajolerie. The one felt, and the other saw the indignity he had committed; and his caresses and protestations were all in vain. The fact was, the Doctor's indignation was so raised by Lady Juliana's remark, made in all the plenitude of a late luncheon, that, had it been herself instead of her favourite, he could scarcely have refrained from this testimony of his detestation and contempt. But much as he despised her, he felt the necessity of propitiating her at this moment, when dinner itself depended upon her decision; for Lord Courtland was perfectly neutral, Lady Emily as not present, and a servant waited to receive orders.
"I really believe it's hunger that's vexing her poor brute!" continued he, with an air of us feigned sympathy; "she knows the dinner hour as well as any of us. Indeed, the instinct of dogs in that respect is wonderful. Providence has really—ahem!—indeed it's no joke to tamper with dogs, when they've got the notion of dinner in their heads. A friend of mine had a very fine animal—just such another as poor Beauty there—she had always been accustomed, like Beauty, to attend the family to dinner at a particular hour; but one day, by some accident, instead of sitting down at five, she was kept waiting till half-past six; the consequence was, the disappointment, operating upon an empty stomach, brought on an attack of the hydrophobia, and the poor thing was obliged to be shot the following morning. I think your Lordship said—Dinner," in a loud voice to the servant; and Lady Juliana, though still sullen, did not dissent.
For an hour the Doctor's soul was in a paradise still more substantial than a Turk's; for it was lapt in the richest of soups and ragoûts, and, secure of their existence, it smiled at ladies of quality, and deified their lap-dogs.
Dinner passed away, and supper succeeded, and breakfast; dinner and supper revolved, and still no Lord Lindore appeared. But this excited no alarm in the family. It was Lord Courtland's way, and it was Lady Juliana's way, and it was all their ways, not to keep to their appointed time, and they therefore experienced none of the vulgar consternation incident to common minds when the expected guest fails to appear. Lady Emily indeed wondered, and was provoked, and impatient; but she was not alarmed; and Mary amused herself with contrasting in her own mind the difference of her aunts' feelings in similar circumstances.
"Dear Aunt Grizzy would certainly have been in tears these two days, fancying the thousand deaths Lord Lindore must have died; and Aunt Jacky would have been inveighing from morning till night against the irregularities of young men. And Aunt Nicky would have been lamenting that the black cock had been roasted yesterday, or that there would be no fish for to-morrow." And the result of Mary's comparison was, that her aunts' feelings, however troublesome, were better than no feelings at all. "They are, to be sure, something like brambles," thought she; "they fasten upon one in every possible way, but still they are better than the faded exotics of fashionable life."
At last, on the third day, when dinner was nearly over, and Dr. Redgill was about to remark for the third time, "I think it's as well we didn't wait for Lord Lindore," the door opened, and, without warning or bustle, Lord Lindore walked calmly into the room.
Lady Emily, uttering an exclamation of joy, threw herself into his arms. Lord Courtland was roused to something like animation, as he cordially shook hands with his son; Lady Juliana flew into raptures at the beauty of his Italian greyhound; Adelaide, at the first glance, decided that her cousin was worthy of falling in love with her; Mary thought on the happiness of the family reunion; and Dr. Redgill offered up a silent thanksgiving that this fracas had not happened ten minutes sooner, otherwise the woodcocks would have been as cold as death. Chairs were placed by the officious attendants in every possible direction; and the discarded first course was threatening to displace the third. But Lord Lindore seemed quite insensible to all these attentions; he stood surveying the company with a nonchalance that had nothing of rudeness in it, but seemed merely the result of high-bred ease. His eye, for a moment, rested upon Adelaide. He then slightly bowed and smiled, as in recognition of their juvenile acquaintance.
"I really can't recommend either the turtle soup or the venison to your Lordship to-day," said Dr. Redgill, who experienced certain uneasy sensations at the idea of beholding them resume their stations, something resembling those which Macbeth testified at sight of Banquo's ghost, or Hamlet on contemplating Yorick's skull—"after travelling, there is nothing like a light dinner; allow me to recommend this prretty, leettle cuisse de poulet en papillote; and here are some fascinating beignets d'abricots—quite foreign."
"If there is any roast beef or boiled mutton to be had, pray let me have it," said Lord Lindore, waving off the zealous maître d'hotel, as he kept placing dish after dish before him.
"Roast beef, or boiled mutton!" ejaculated the Doctor, with a sort of internal convulsion; "he is certainly mad."
"How did you contrive to arrive without being heard by me, Frederick?" asked Lady Emily; "my ears have been wide open these two days and three nights watching your approach?"
"I walked from Newberry House," answered he, carelessly. "I met Lord Newberry two days ago, as I was coming here, and he persuaded me to alter my course and accompany him home."
"Vastly flattering to your friends here," said Lady Emily in a tone of pique.
"What! you walked all the way from Newberry," exclaimed the Earl, "and the ground covered with snow. How could you do so foolish a thing?"
"Simply because, as the children say, I liked it," replied Lord Lindore, with a smile.
"That's just of a piece with his liking to eat boiled mutton," muttered the Doctor to Mary; "and yet, to look at him, one would really not expect such gross stupidity."
There certainly was nothing in Lord Lindore's appearance that denoted either coarseness of taste or imbecility of mind. On the contrary, he was an elegant-looking young man, rather slightly formed, and of the middle size, possessing that ease and grace in all his movements which a perfect proportion alone can bestow. There was nothing foreign or recherché either in his dress or deportment; both were plain, even to simplicity; yet an almost imperceptible air of hauteur was mingled with the good-humoured indifference of his manner. He spoke little, and seemed rather to endure than to be gratified by attentions; his own were chiefly directed to his dog, as he was more intent on feeding it than on answering the questions that were put to him. There never was anything to be called conversation at the dinner-table at Beech Park; and the general practice was in no danger of being departed from on the present occasion. The Earl hated to converse—it was a bore; and he now merely exchanged a few desultory sentences with his son, as he ate his olives and drank his claret. Lady Juliana, indeed, spoke even more than her usual quantity of nonsense, but nobody listened to it. Lady Emily was somewhat perplexed in her notions about her brother. He was handsome and elegant, and appeared good-humoured and gentle; yet something was wanting to fill up the measure of her expectations, and a latent feeling of disappointment lurked in her heart. Adelaide was indignant that he had not instantly paid her the most marked attention, and revenged herself by her silence. In short, Lord Lindore's arrival seemed to have added little or nothing to the general stock of pleasure; and the effervescence of joy—the rapture of sensation, like some subtle essence, had escaped almost as soon as it was perceived.
"How stupid everybody always is at a dinner table!" exclaimed Lady Emily, rising abruptly with an air of chagrin. "I believe it is the fumes of the meat that dulls one's senses, and renders them so detestable. I long to see you in the drawing-room Frederick. I've a notion you are more of a carpet knight than a knight of the round table; so pray," in a whisper as she passed, "leave papa to be snored asleep by Dr. Redgill, and do you follow us—here is metal more attractive," pointing to the sisters, as they quitted the room; and she followed without waiting for her brother's reply.