A few country cousins, fresh from Cumberland, who knew nothing of the
Duke of St. James except from a stray number of 'The Universe,' which
occasionally stole down to corrupt the pure waters of their lakes, were
the only guests. Mr. Dacre grasped our hero's hand with a warmth and
expression which were unusual with him, but which conveyed, better than
words, the depth of his friendship; and his daughter, who looked more
beautiful than ever, advanced with a beaming face and joyous tone, which
quite reconciled the Duke of St. James to being a ruined man.
The presence of strangers limited their conversation to subjects of
general interest. At dinner, the Duke took care to be agreeable: he
talked in an unaffected manner, and particularly to the cousins, who
were all delighted with him, and found him 'quite a different person
from what they had fancied.' The evening passed over, and even lightly,
without the aid of _ecarte_, romances, or gallops. Mr. Dacre chatted
with old Mr. Montingford, and old Mrs. Montingford sat still admiring
her 'girls,' who stood still admiring May Dacre singing or talking, and
occasionally reconciled us to their occasional silence by a frequent
and extremely hearty laugh; that Cumberland laugh which never outlives a
single season in London.
Pages:
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447