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Lord Doningdale had then the pleasure of learning that his favourite grey hackney, which he had ridden, winter and summer, for fifteen years, was taken with shivers, and, as the groom expressed it, seemed to have "the colic in its bowels!" Lord Doningdale turned pale, and hurried to the stables without saying a word.
"Herbert has gone home to order the carriage, and Lord Doningdale has disappeared, I scarce know whither. You do not, I trust, feel the worse for the rain?" "No," said Valerie. "Shall you have any commands in London?" asked Maltravers; "I return to town to-morrow." "So soon!" and Valerie sighed. "Ah!" she added, after a pause, "we shall not meet again for years, perhaps.
His Majesty asked him once to dinner, and, when he took leave, said to him, 'We are happy, Lord Doningdale, to have thus requited our obligations to your lordship. Lord Doningdale went back in dudgeon, yet he still boasts of his souvenirs, poor man." "Princes are not grateful, neither are republics," said Maltravers. "Ah, who is grateful," rejoined Valerie, "except a dog and a woman?"
Lord Doningdale had the two characteristics of a high-bred gentleman of the old school respect for birth and respect for talent; he was, therefore, more than ordinarily courteous to Ernest, and pressed him to stay some days with so much cordiality, that Maltravers could not but assent. His travelling toilet was scanty, but Maltravers thought little of dress. "It is the soul that sees.
"It cost /milord/ a vast sum to make these alterations," said Madame de Ventadour, glancing archly at Maltravers. "Ah, yes," said the old lord; and his face, lately elated, became overcast "nearly three hundred thousand pounds: but what then? 'Les souvenirs, madame, sont sans prix/!" "Have you visited Paris since the restoration, Lord Doningdale," asked Maltravers.
"You have galled our host," said Valerie, smiling. "Louis XVIII. and his friends lived here as long as they pleased, and as sumptuously as they could; their visits half ruined the owner, who is the model of a gentilhomme and preux chevalier. He went to Paris to witness their triumph; he expected, I fancy, the order of the St. Esprit. Lord Doningdale has royal blood in his veins.
From the window, a sad and straining eye gazed upon the gayer equipage of the peer that eye which Maltravers would have given his whole fortune to meet again. But he did not look up; and Alice Darvil turned away, and her fate was fixed! "Strange fits of passion I have known. And I will dare to tell." " * The food of hope Is meditated action." MALTRAVERS left Doningdale the next day.
Maltravers found himself ushered into a vast dressing-room, and was informed, by a French valet, that in the country Lord Doningdale dined at six the first bell would ring in a few minutes. While the valet was speaking, Lord Doningdale himself entered the room.
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