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She saw Rocheouart standing before her; Rupert Louth; other young men, all lively, handsome, ardent, bursting with life and the wish to enjoy. Was there ever a time when the human being could utterly forego the wish to enjoy? To her there seemed to be hidden in desire seeds of eternity. The struggle for her, then, was not yet over. Perhaps it would only cease in the grave. And after?
But she had never thought much about him in those days. For in those days she had not been haunted by the passion for youth which possessed her now. Louis de Rocheouart visited at her house as a matter of course, was agreeable and gallant to her because she was a charming and influential woman and an old friend of his family.
Towards the end of the evening she happened to be standing with Sir Seymour Portman near the entrance to the ballroom, and overheard a scrap of conversation between two people just behind them. A girl's light voice said: "Have you heard the name Cora Wellingborough has given to this ball?" "No," replied a voice, which Lady Sellingworth recognized as the voice of young Rocheouart. "What is it?"
While Rocheouart was in London a number of popular middle-aged women banded together and gave a very smart ball at Prince's. Lady Sellingworth was one of the hostesses, all of whom danced merrily and appeared to be in excellent spirits and health. It was certainly one of the very best balls of the season, and young men turned up at it in large numbers. Among them was young Rocheouart.
And some of them were thoroughly sensible women, saved from absurdity by the blessed sense of humour. But Lady Sellingworth was by this time desperately in love with Louis de Rocheouart, and her sense of humour was in abeyance that night. In consequence, she was the victim of a mortification which she was never to forget as long as she lived.
And how clever of her to give the right name to the ball herself instead of leaving it for some pretty girl to do. The Hags' Hop! It's perfect! If she hadn't said that, you would have before the evening was out, and then all the charming hags would have been furious with you." The girl laughed, and she and Rocheouart passed Lady Sellingworth without noticing her and went into the ballroom.
She soon forgot Louis de Rocheouart, but his place was not long left empty. She fell in love with another young man. Eventually by this time she had almost ceased to struggle, was not far from being a complete victim to her temperament she seriously considered the possibility of marrying again, and of marrying a man many years younger than herself. Several women whom she knew had done this.
He, like everyone else, felt her easy fascination, enjoyed being with her. But, like Rocheouart of the past days, he never thought of her as a possible lover. Nor did it ever occur to him that she was thinking of him as a possible husband.
Seymour could save her from all that, save her almost forcibly. Safety from it was there with her in the room. Rocheouart, Rupert Louth, other young men were about her for a moment. The brown eyes of the man who had stolen her jewels looked down into hers pleading for her property. After all her experiences could she be fool enough to follow a marshlight again?
Even Lady Sellingworth forced herself to quote the saying and to make merry over it. But from that day she gave up dancing entirely. Nothing would induce her even to join in a formal royal quadrille. Before his return to Paris, Rocheouart came to bid her good-bye.
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