Nell, of Shorne Mills Part 50

"One more," she said, in as low a tone. As she spoke, the door opened, and Sir Archie Walbrooke entered.

Nell heard Lady Wolfer hesitate in the middle of a sentence, and saw her turn away, with her back to the door.

Sir Archie came across the room in his usual deliberate fashion, as self-possessed and impa.s.sive as if he were quite ignorant that he had kept a roomful of people waiting.

Lady Wolfer gave him her hand without breaking off her conversation with the prime minister, who was chatting and laughing with the carelessness of a boy, and as if he had never even heard of a ministerial crisis.

"Afraid I'm late," said Sir Archie, in slow and even tones. "Cab horse fell down--nearly always does when I'm behind one. Strange."

"I will hand your excuse to the cook," said Lady Wolfer. "I hope he will believe it. None of us do, I a.s.sure you."

The butler announced dinner, and the party coupled and filed in, the earl taking a dowager d.u.c.h.ess, a good-natured lady with an obvious wig and cheeks which blushed--with rouge--like unto those of a dairymaid.

Nell fell to the lot of an undersecretary for the colonies, who was so great a favorite of the prime minister's that no one dreamed of asking the great man without sending an invitation to his friend, who was generally known as "Sir Charles." Like most clever men, he was simplicity itself, and he watched Nell through his pince-nez as she surveyed the brilliant line of guests round the long, oblong table, with an interest in her interest.

"How well Lady Wolfer is looking to-night," he said, staring at the hostess at the head of the table. Her eyes were bright, a faint flush on her cheeks, and her soft hair, which her maid had arranged as advantageously as short hair can be dressed, shone in the subdued light of the shaded candles. "One is so accustomed to seeing her in--well,"

and he smiled, "strictly business garb, that full war paint strikes one with the revelation of her prettiness."

"Yes; isn't she pretty?" said Nell eagerly. "But I always think she is; though, of course, I like her best in evening dress."

He smiled at the prompt.i.tude of her ingenious admiration.

"If I had my way, your s.e.x should always wear one of two costumes: a riding habit or dinner dress."

"That would be rather inconvenient," said Nell. "Imagine walking out on a wet day in a habit or a ball frock!"

"I know," he said. "But I don't think you ought to walk out on a wet day."

"You ought to live in Turkey," said Nell, with a laugh.

"That is rather neat," he said approvingly; "but pray, don't repeat my speech to Lady Wolfer; she would think me exceedingly frivolous, and I spend my time in the endeavor to convince her of my gravity and discretion."

"Are all politicians supposed to be grave?" asked Nell, glancing at the prime minister, who had just related an anecdote in his own inimitable manner, and was laughing as heartily as if he had not a care in the world.

Sir Charles followed her eyes and smiled.

"Judging by Mr. Gresham, one would answer with an emphatic negative," he said. "But he is an exception to the rule. He is only grave when he is in the House--and not always then. I have known him crack a joke--and laugh at it--at the very moment the fate of his ministry swung in the balance. Some men are born boys, and remain so all their lives, and some----" He stopped and involuntarily looked at his host, who sat at the end of the table, his tall, thin figure bolt upright, his face with a kind of courteous gravity. He had heard the anecdote and paid it the tribute of a smile, but the smile had pa.s.sed quickly, and his countenance had resumed its wonted seriousness in a moment.

"I always regard Lord Wolfer as a model of what a statesman should seem," said Sir Charles. "I mean that he, more than any man I know, comes up to the popular idea of a great statesman--that is, in manner and bearing."

Nell remained silent. It was not befitting that she should discuss her host and employer; and she wondered whether the clever undersecretary beside her knew who she was and the position she held in the house. She did not know enough of the world to be aware that nowadays one discusses one's friends--even at their own tables--with a freedom which would have shocked an earlier generation.

"I often think," he continued, "that Lord Wolfer would have served the moralists as an instance of the vanity of human wishes."

"Why?" Nell could not help asking.

"Think of it!" he said, with a slight laugh. "He is the bearer of an old and honored t.i.tle, he is pa.s.sing rich, he is a cabinet minister, he is married to an extremely clever and charming lady--we agreed that she is pretty, too, didn't we?--and----" He paused a moment. "Should you say that Lord Wolfer is a happy man?"

As he put this significant question, which explained his remark about the vanity of human wishes, Nell looked at the earl. He was apparently listening to the d.u.c.h.ess by his side; but his eyes, under their straight, dark brows, were fixed upon his wife, who, leaning forward slightly, was listening with downcast eyes and a smile to Sir Archie, a few chairs from her.

Nell flushed.

"N-o, I don't know," she said, rather confusedly. "Lord Wolfer has so much on his mind--politics, and----He is nearly always at work; he is often in his study writing until early morning."

Sir Charles looked at her quickly.

"You know them very well. You are staying here?" he asked.

"I live here," said Nell simply. "I am what Sir Archie Walbrooke calls 'general utility.' Lady Wolfer has so much to do, and I help her keep house, or try and persuade myself that I do."

Sir Charles was too much a man of the world to be discomfited; but he laughed a little ruefully as he said:

"That serves me right for discussing people with a lady with whom I haven't the honor and pleasure of an acquaintance. It reminds me of that very old story of the man at the evening party, which you no doubt remember."

"No; I've heard so few stories, old or new," said Nell, smiling. "Please tell it me."

"I will if you'll tell me your name in exchange; mine is Fletcher, but I am usually called Sir Charles because Mr. Gresham honors me with his close friendship. 'Charles, his friend,' as they used to put it in the old play books, you know."

"I see; and my name is Lorton, Eleanor Lorton, commonly called Nell Lorton--because I have a brother. And the story?"

Sir Charles laughed.

"Oh, it's too old; but, old as it is, I had forgotten to take its moral to heart. A man was leaning against the wall, yawning, at an evening party. He was fearfully bored, for he knew scarcely any one there, and had been brought at the last moment by a friend. As he was making up his mind to cut it, another man came and leaned against the wall beside him and yawned, also. Said the first: 'Awful slow, isn't it?' 'Yes,' replied Number Two, 'frightful crush and beastly hot.' 'Dreadful. I could stand it a little longer if that woman at the piano would leave off squalling.

Come round to my club, and let us get a drink and a smoke.' 'Nothing would give me more pleasure! Wish I could!' replied Number Two. 'But you see, unfortunately for me, this is my house, and the lady at the piano is my wife.'"

Nell laughed.

"It is a good story," she said. "The first man must have felt very foolish."

"Yes," a.s.sented Sir Charles; "I know exactly how he felt. I hope you forgive me, Miss Lorton? Can I make amends in any way for my stupidity?"

"You might tell me who some of the people are," said Nell. "I only know them by name--and scarcely as much as that. I have not been here very long, and this is my first dinner party."

"How I envy you!" he said, with a sigh. "Dear me! I seem fated to put my foot into it to-night! But you know what I mean, or you would if you dined out as often as I--and Mr. Gresham do. Whom would you like me to tell you about? I think I know everybody here. One moment! Mr. Gresham is going to tell the story of his losing himself in London; it was in one of the new streets, for the making of which he had been a strong advocate."

They waited until the story was told, and the prime minister had enjoyed the laughter, and then Nell said:

"That little lady with the diamond tiara and the three big rubies on her neck is Lady Angleford--I know her name because I was introduced to her before dinner. I like the look of her so much; and she has so pleasant a voice and smile. Please tell me something about her."

"An easy task," said Sir Charles. "She is Lord Angleford's young wife--an American heiress. I like her very much. In fact, though I have not known her very long, I am honored with her friendship. And yet I ought not to like her," he added, almost to himself.

Nell opened her eyes upon him.

"Why not?" she asked.

Sir Charles was silent for a moment; then he said, as if he were weighing his words, and choosing suitable ones for his auditor:

"Lord Angleford has a nephew who is a great, a very great friend of mine--Lord Selbie. He was Lord Angleford's heir; but--well, his uncle's marriage may make all the difference to him."