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And look, who is that funny old man the elderly lady is helping downstairs? 'He is our honoured guest, Lord Mountclere. Mrs. Doncastle will have him all through the dinner, and after that he will devote himself to Mrs. Petherwin, your "dear mistress." He keeps looking towards her now, and no doubt thinks it a nuisance that she is not with him. Well, it is useless to stay here.
The speaker was Lord Mountclere's trusty valet, and the conversation was between him and the viscount in a dressing-room at Enckworth Court, on the evening after the meeting of archaeologists at Corvsgate Castle. 'H'm-h'm; the daughter of a butler. Does Mrs. Doncastle know of this yet, or Mr. Neigh, or any of their friends? 'No, my lord. 'You are quite positive? 'Quite positive.
The disclosure was almost too magnificent to be repressed. To deny herself so exquisite an indulgence required an effort which nothing on earth could have sustained save the one thing that did sustain it the knowledge that upon her silence hung the most enormous desideratum in the world, her own marriage. She said no more, and Mrs. Doncastle went away.
Doncastle to Ethelberta, when the song was over and she had retired from the focus of the company, 'is, that it is played from the composer's own copy, which has never met the public eye, or any other than his own before to-day. And I see that he has actually sketched in the lines by hand, instead of having ruled paper just as the great old composers used to do.
Doncastle made no remark, and she remained in the same still position as before; but a countenance expressing transcendent surprise was reflected to Menlove by the glass. At this sight Menlove's tongue so burned to go further, and unfold the lady's relations with the butler downstairs, that she would have lost a month's wages to be at liberty to do it.
Doncastle, remembering the symptoms of attachment between Ethelberta and her nephew which had appeared during the summer, looked towards Neigh instantly, as if she thought the words must have come from him after all; but Neigh's face was perfectly calm; he, together with her husband, was sitting with his eyes fixed in the direction of the sideboard; and turning to the same spot she beheld Chickerel standing pale as death, his lips being parted as if he did not know where he was.
It was an ordinary family dinner that day, but their nephew Neigh happened to be present. Just as they were sitting down Mrs. Doncastle said to her husband: 'Why have you not told me of the wedding to-morrow? or don't you know anything about it? 'Wedding? said Mr. Doncastle. 'Lord Mountclere is to be married to Mrs. Petherwin quite privately. 'Good God! said some person. Mr.
Impressiveness depends as much upon propinquity as upon magnitude; and to have honoured unawares the daughter of the vilest Antipodean miscreant and murderer would have been less discomfiting to Mrs. Doncastle than it was to make the same blunder with the daughter of a respectable servant who happened to live in her own house.
The crowd of perceptions almost took away her life; she closed her eyes in a white shiver. 'Do you mean to say that the lady who sat here at dinner at the same time that Lord Mountclere was present, is your daughter? asked Doncastle. 'Yes, sir, said Chickerel respectfully. 'How did she come to be your daughter? 'I Well, she is my daughter, sir. 'Did you educate her? 'Not altogether, sir.
'If I had such a man belonging to me I should only be too proud. Certainly do not mention it. 'Of course Chickerel is Chickerel, Mr. Doncastle rejoined. 'We all know what that means. And really, on reflecting, I do remember that he is of a literary turn of mind not further by an inch than is commendable, you know.
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