CHAPTER XVII
"What will you all like to do to-day?" said Helen one morning after breakfast, "drive? or ride? or stay at home? or go to Langley ruins? Lady Portmore, what is your good will and pleasure?"
"I hardly know," she said, with an air of mystery.
"Let me have a little talk with you in your dressing-room; a real comfortable chat, before I decide."
"Good heavens, how inhuman!" said Ernest Beaufort, who was lolling on a sofa, supported by countless cushions, and reading the paper; "you are not going to make that guiltless Helen endure the agony of a regular talk at this early hour of this broiling day. Besides, what is there to talk about?"
"A thousand things. I have not seen Helen for ages; and we have so much to hear and to say."
"And are you. Lady Portmore," he said, giving the cushion that supported his back a languid push, "are you still going on with all that old humbug of being glad to see people, and of having something to say to them? Has not everything been said forty times over? and is not any one individual quite as good as another?"
"Now that is so like you, Ernest. How odd your theories are; and yet how true! I said myself the other day, that one never hears anything new till it is old; and Cracroft the poet, who was sitting with me, laughed very much at the originality of the idea. You and I think so exactly alike, Ernest."
"Perhaps then, Lady Portmore, you are thinking of picking up the supplement of the Times, which I have had the misfortune to drop. In the similarity of our dispositions we are probably of opinion that it ought to be picked up by one of us."
"Now that is too bad. Oh, Miss Douglas," she said, as Eliza stooped for it, "you are spoiling that wretch!"
"Miss Douglas, the wretch thanks you; your attentions to me in my old age do you infinite credit. When I was as young as you, a period which my enfeebled memory can scarcely recall, I doubt whether I was equally mindful of the infirmities of the old."
"And what may be your age?" said Lady Portmore.
"It is a painful subject. You have probably observed this morning that I am unusually grave and meditative. To-day is one of those eternal birthdays of mine which are always coming round, and with shame I avow that for six-and-twenty years I have now existed in this very tiresome world, bored and boring. Now don't all begin to wish me many happy birthdays. I am tired of good wishes. If you like to make me any presents, you may; but I am tired of things too—so do not give yourselves any trouble. I am twenty-six, and can't help myself"
"Oh! we must leave him, Helen, he is really too odd. Come and show me your boudoir."
"Directly," said Helen. "Teviot, as you and Beaufort are going to the stables, will you order the open carriage for mamma? and the pony phaeton will be wanted. Shall I ride with you?" she said, timidly.
"Your attention, my dear, is most gratifying, but as you know that the Smiths, Beaufort, and I agreed to have our first shot at the partridges to-day, your obliging offer is made in all safety."
"I am glad you will be so well employed," answered Helen, speaking as unconcernedly as she could, for she saw Mary looking inquiringly at her. "Then I will make my own arrangements, as I am discarded by you. Mary, you have brought your habit, of course, and there is a charming horse which Teviot provided for me; but papa has given me my old favourite, so we will ride after luncheon. Now for Lady Portmore. Shall I get off under an hour of confidences?"
Mary shook her head, and the party dispersed in various directions.