Volume I Part 10 (1/2)

They were in the middle of the ”interval,” and almost everyone about them, including Miss Tulloch, was standing up, talking or examining their neighbours.

George craned his neck round Miss Tulloch, and saw Fontenoy sitting beside a lady, on the other side of the middle gangway.

”Who is the lady?” Letty inquired. ”I saw her with him the other night at the Foreign Office.”

George smiled.

”_That_--if you want to know--is Fontenoy's story!”

”Oh, but tell me at once!” said Letty, imperiously. ”But he hasn't got a story, or a heart. He's only stuffed with blue-book.”

”So I thought till a few weeks ago. But I know a good deal more now about Master Fontenoy than I did.”

”But who is she?”

”She is a Mrs. Allison. Isn't that white hair beautiful? And her face--half saint, I always think--you might take her for a mother-abbess--and half princess. Did you ever see such diamonds?”

George pulled his moustaches, and grinned as he looked across at Fontenoy.

”Tell me quick!” said Letty, tapping him on the arm--”Is she a widow?--and is he going to marry her? Why didn't you tell me before?--why didn't you tell me at Malford?”

”Because I didn't know,” said George, laughing. ”Oh! it's a strange story--too long to tell now. She is a widow, but he is not going to marry her, apparently. She has a grown-up son, who hasn't yet found himself a wife, and thinks it isn't fair to him. If Fontenoy wants to introduce her, don't refuse. She is the mistress of Castle Luton, and has delightful parties. Yes!--if I'd known at Malford what I know now!”

And he laughed again, remembering Fontenoy's nocturnal incursion upon him, and its apparent object. Who would have imagined that the preacher of that occasion had ever given one serious thought to woman and woman's arts--least of all that he was the creation and slave of a woman!

Letty's curiosity was piqued, and she would have plied George with questions, but that she suddenly perceived that Fontenoy had risen, and was coming across to them.

”Gracious!” she said; ”here he comes. I can't think why; he doesn't like me.”

Fontenoy, however, when he had made his way to them, greeted Miss Sewell with as much apparent cordiality as he showed to anyone else. He had received George's news of the marriage with all decorum, and had since sent a handsome wedding-present to the bride-elect. Letty, however, was never at ease with him, which, indeed, was the case with most women.

He stood beside the _fiances_ for a minute or two, exchanging a few commonplaces with Letty on the performers and the audience; then he turned to George with a change of look.

”No need for us to go back to-night, I think?”

”What, to the House? Dear, no! Grooby and Havershon may be trusted to drone the evening out, I should hope, with no trouble to anybody but themselves. The Government are just keeping a house, that's all. Have you been grinding at your speech all day?”

Fontenoy shrugged his shoulders.

”I sha'n't get anything out that I want to say. Are you coming to the House on Friday, Miss Sewell?”

”Friday?” said Letty, looking puzzled.

George laughed.

”I told you. You must plead trousseau if you want to save yourself!”

Amus.e.m.e.nt shone in his blue eyes as they pa.s.sed from Letty to Fontenoy.

He had long ago discovered that Letty was incapable of any serious interest in his public life. It did not disturb him at all. But it tickled his sense of humour that Letty would have to talk politics all the same, and to talk them with people like Fontenoy.

”Oh! you mean your Resolution!” cried Letty. ”Isn't it a Resolution? Yes, of course I'm coming. It's very absurd, for I don't know anything about it. But George says I must, and till I promise to obey, you see, I don't mind being obedient!”