Part 18 (1/2)
”Then let me present you!” said he eagerly.
”You see, Morrice,” said Elmscott, ”he has such solid grounds for confidence that he has no fear of rivals.”
”Nay, the truth is, she has a pa.s.sion for fresh faces.”
”Indeed!” said I.
”Oh, most extraordinary! A veritable pa.s.sion, and no one so graciously received as he who brings a stranger to her side. For that reason,” he added navely, ”I would fain present you;” and then he suddenly stopped and surveyed me, shaking his head doubtfully the while.
”But Lard! Mr. Buckler,” he said, ”you must first get some new clothes.”
”The clothes are good enough,” I laughed, for I was dressed in my best suit, and though 'twas something more modest than my Lord Culverton's attire, I was none the less pleased with it on that account.
”Rabbit me, but I daren't!” he said. ”I daren't introduce you in that suit. I daren't, indeed! My character would never survive the imputation, strike me purple if it would! 'Tis a very yeoman's habit, and reeks of the country. I can smell onions and all sorts of horrible things, burn me!”
”I will run the risk, Morrice,” interposed Elmscott. ”Dine with me to-day at Lockett's, and I will take you to the Countess' lodging in Pall Mall afterwards. But Culverton's right. You do look like a Quaker, and that's the truth.”
However, I paid little attention to what they said or thought concerning my appearance. The knowledge that I was to meet Countess Lukstein and have speech with her no later than that very evening, engendered within me an indescribable excitement. I got free from my companions as speedily as I could, and pa.s.sed the hours till dinnertime in a vague expectancy; though what it was that I expected, I could not have told even to myself.
About seven of the clock we repaired to her apartments. The rooms were already filled with a gay crowd of ladies and gentlemen dressed in the extreme of fas.h.i.+on, and at first I could get no glimpse of the Countess. But I looked towards the spot where the throng was thickest, and the tripping noise of pleasantries most loud, and then I saw her.
Elmscott advanced; I followed close upon his heels, the circle opened, magically it seemed to me, and I stood face to face with her at last.
Yet for all that I was prepared for it, now that I beheld her but six steps from me, now that I looked straight into her eyes, a strange sense of unreality stole over me, dimming my brain like a mist; so incredible did it appear to me that we who had met before in such a tragic conjunction in that far-away nook of the Tyrol, should now be presented each to the other like the merest strangers, amidst the brightness and gaiety of London town. I almost expected the candles to go out, and the company to dissolve into air. I almost began to dread that I should wake up in a moment to find myself in the dark, crouched up upon my bed in c.u.mberland. So powerfully did this fear possess me that I was on the point of crying aloud, ”Speak! speak!” when Elmscott took me by the arm.
”Madame,” said he, ”I have taken the liberty of bringing hither my cousin, Mr. Morrice Buckler, who is anxious--as who is not?--for the honour of your acquaintance.”
”It is no liberty,” she replied graciously, in a voice that was exquisitely sweet, and she let her eyes fall upon my face with a quick and watchful scrutiny.
The next instant, however, the alertness died out of them.
”Mr. Buckler is very welcome,” she said quietly, and it struck me that there was some hint of disappointment in her tone, and maybe a touch of weariness. If, indeed, what Culverton had said was true, and she had a pa.s.sion for fresh faces, 'twas evident that mine was to be exempted from the rule.
It might have been the expression of her indifference, or perchance the mere sound of her voice broke the spell upon me, but all at once I became sensible to the full of my sober, sad-coloured clothes. I looked about me. Coats and dresses brilliant with gold and brocade mingled their colours in a flas.h.i.+ng rainbow, jewels sparkled and winked as they caught the light, and I felt that every eye in this circle of elegant courtiers was fixed disdainfully upon the awkward intruder.
I faltered through a compliment, conscious the while that I had done better to have held my tongue. I heard a t.i.tter behind me, and here and there some fine lady or gentleman held a quizzing-gla.s.s to the eye, as though I was some strange natural from over-seas. All the blood in my body seemed to run tingling into my face. I half turned to flee away and take to my heels, but a second glance at the sneering countenances around me stung my pride into wakefulness, and resolving to put the best face on the matter I could, I attempted a sweeping bow. Whether my foot slipped, whether some one tripped me purposely with a sword, I know not--I was too fl.u.s.tered to think at the time or to remember afterwards--but whatever the cause, I found myself plumped down upon my knees before her, with the t.i.tter changed into an open laugh.
”Hus.h.!.+” lisped one of the bystanders, ”don't disturb the gentleman; he is saying his prayers.”
I rose to my feet in the greatest confusion.
”Madame,” I stammered, ”I come to my knees no earlier than the rest of your acquaintance. Only being country-bred, I do it with the less discretion.”
She laughed with a charming friendliness which lifted me somewhat out of my humiliation.
”The adroitness of the recovery, Mr. Buckler,” she said, ”more than atones for the maladresse of the attack.”
”Nay,” I protested, with what may well have appeared excessive earnestness, ”the simile does me some injustice, for it hints of an antagonism betwixt you and me.”
She glanced at me with some surprise and more amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes.