Part 43 (2/2)

'Well,' said Ferdinand, with a sigh.

'That is well,' said Montfort; 'now let us trot through the Park, and the groom can call in Grosvenor-square and Brook-street, and gallop after us. This is amusing, is it not?'

CHAPTER IX.

_Which Is on the Whole Almost as Perplexing as the Preceding One_.

WHEN Ferdinand found himself dining in St. James'-square, in the very same room where he had pa.s.sed so many gay hours during that boyish month of glee which preceded his first joining his regiment, and then looked opposite him and saw Henrietta Temple, it seemed to him that, by some magical process or other, his life was acting over again, and the order of the scenes and characters had, by some strange mismanagement, got confused. Yet he yielded himself up to the excitement which had so unexpectedly influenced him; he was inflamed by a species of wild delight which he could not understand, nor stop to a.n.a.lyse; and when the d.u.c.h.ess retired with the young ladies to their secret conclave in the drawing-room, she said, 'I like Captain Armine very much; he is so full of spirit and imagination. When we met him this morning, do you know, I thought him rather stiff and fine. I regretted the bright boyish flow that I so well recollected, but I see I was mistaken.'

'Ferdinand is much changed,' said Miss Grandison. 'He was once the most brilliant person, I think, that ever lived: almost too brilliant; everybody by him seemed so tame. But since his illness he has quite changed. I have scarcely heard him speak or seen him smile these six months. There is not in the whole world a person so wretchedly altered.

He is quite a wreck. I do not know what is the matter with him to-day.

He seemed once almost himself.'

'He indulged his feelings too much, perhaps,' said Henrietta; 'he lived, perhaps, too much alone, after so severe an illness.'

'Oh, no! it is not that,' said Miss Grandison, 'it is not exactly that. Poor Ferdinand! he is to be pitied. I fear he will never be happy again.'

'Miss Grandison should hardly say that,' said the d.u.c.h.ess, 'if report speaks truly.'

Katherine was about to reply, but checked herself.

Henrietta rose from her seat rather suddenly, and asked Katherine to touch the piano.

The d.u.c.h.ess took up the 'Morning Post.'

'Poor Ferdinand! he used to sing once so beautifully, too!' said Katherine to Miss Temple, in a hushed voice. 'He never sings now.'

'You must make him,' said Henrietta.

Miss Grandison shook her head.

'You have influence with him; you should exert it,' said Henrietta.

'I neither have, nor desire to have, influence with him,' said Miss Grandison. 'Dearest Miss Temple, the world is in error with respect to myself and my cousin; and yet I ought not to say to you what I have not thought proper to confess even to my aunt.'

Henrietta leant over and kissed her forehead. 'Say what you like, dearest Miss Grandison; you speak to a friend, who loves you, and will respect your secret.'

The gentlemen at this moment entered the room, and interrupted this interesting conversation.

'You must not quit the instrument, Miss Grandison,' said Lord Montfort, seating himself by her side. Ferdinand fell into conversation with the d.u.c.h.ess; and Miss Temple was the amiable victim of his Grace's pa.s.sion for ecarte.

'Captain Armine is a most agreeable person,' said Lord Montfort.

Miss Grandison rather stared. 'We were just speaking of Ferdinand,' she replied, 'and I was lamenting his sad change.'

'Severe illness, illness so severe as his, must for the moment change anyone; we shall soon see him himself again.'

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