For a minute or two she reflected by what means she should draw her neighbour into conversation, but she was not long in deciding on a line of action which did credit to her generalship.
It was a time when all free hearts in Europe were mourning for the death of one of her greatest statesmen. But yet, amidst the general lamentation, you might sometimes hear a discordant note of triumph or some harsh voice raised to insult the memory of the mighty dead.
Miss Lutterworth was remarkably well read in all the leading topics of the day, and she easily recalled to her memory a critique on the deceased statesman which had been written in this spirit. Turning suddenly to Rochford she said:
“Oh, Mr. Rockford, there was something I wanted to ask you about, which I am sure you can tell me.”
Rochford bowed to show that he was attending.
“About Count F,” she continued, “I always admired him so much; I thought him so noble, so true, so inflexible in the right course, so far seeing, so self-sacrificing. But lately I have been told—” And then, with considerable ingenuity, she indicated a few of the principal points of attack on the Count’s policy and character, saying as she finished, “You must excuse me, but you know that ladies do not understand these things very well, and I am really anxious to know whether I ought to admire him or not, for I am quite a hero-worshipper, and it does grieve me so when I am obliged to pull down my idols from their pedestals.”
The play of Rochford’s countenance as she was speaking told her that her attack had been well planned. For he was as complete a partisan in politics and in literature as he was in friendship. His eyes positively seemed to blaze with light as he listened to her résumé of the attacks upon the Count. And, at last, when she had finished, he replied with an enthusiasm, which the low tone of voice a dinner-table tête-a-tête requires could not hide.
“You have indeed been misinformed, Miss Lutterworth,” he said; and he proceeded to give her a brilliant sketch of the Count’s life and character, which would have done credit to a rising barrister with a good case. He had the material ready to his hand, for he had written a leader on the same subject for the “Wednesday Warmer,” just before he set out for Oldforest.
The ice once broken, the lady imagined that there would be no difficulty in prolonging the conversation, and they did talk about new books for a few minutes in a sufficiently agreeable manner. But, by degrees, each reply of Rochford’s became shorter than the one which had preceded it, and at last be crowned all his previous shortcomings by making an answer which proved that he had not been listening to his fair neighbour for the last three minutes.
Up to this time she had only been amused, but now she became really angry. “If he is not stupid, he is very rude,” she thought, “and I will never speak to him again if I can help it.”
And so she turned once more to Alfred Mourningthorpe, to the inexpressible relief of that young gentleman and his mamma, who had both begun to think that she was getting on a great deal too well with “that sulky fellow, Rochford.”
It is necessary to explain that Rochford would not have behaved quite so badly if he had not happened to overhear an observation about Frederick Mourningthorpe, which was made on the opposite side of the table by Mr. Deedes, the family solicitor.
“From what I have heard, I think it is doubtful whether he comes at all.”
And then something more was said in a lower tone which Rochford was unable to catch.
Fred and Fred’s affairs were always uppermost in his mind, and in his anxiety to ascertain something about them, he forgot all about the fair lady at his side.
Mr. Deedes, however, soon passed to some other subject. Then it did occur to Rochford that he had not been very polite, and he turned to Miss Lutterworth with a dim idea of making some kind of apology, but he found that lady so deeply engaged in conversation with Alfred, that it was impossible to interrupt her, and he very soon forgot all about it.
Four or five days passed away and there was no sign of Frederick Mourningthorpe. Nobody in the house knew anything about him or his movements.
“Certainly he had been expected,—he might come at any time; but, on the other hand, he was always so uncertain, that he might not come at all.”
So said Lady Mourningthorpe.
Rochford had tried to pump Mr. Deedes on the first opportunity that occurred after the conversation he had overheard at dinner. But a very little talk with his brother lawyer convinced Rochford that that gentleman did not know anything about the matter, or that, if he did, he was quite determined to keep his information to himself.
Rochford began to get very tired of Oldforest. Some of the guests were agreeable enough, but he had been so prejudiced against everybody when he first arrived, that he had not taken the slightest trouble to find them out.
He certainly had not achieved an enviable reputation for himself at Oldforest.
George Chaffington said that he had heard in town he could be amusing when he liked, but that ho had never been fortunate enough to meet him when he was “in form.”
This was not true, but it was ill-natured, which is notoriously the next best thing.
Lady Mourningthorpe said she did not know why he came, or why he stayed, or who invited him; he said Frederick had,—if so, she thought it very strange that Frederick did not come to entertain his own guest.
Rochford had always plenty of writing to do, so he seldom showed himself, except at breakfast and dinner. Sometimes he played pool in the evening. When he did, he talked very little, but attended to the game. He played very well, and seldom missed a division. It may be doubted whether this tended to increase his popularity.
But on the morning of the sixth day he began to think that he had sacrificed enough of time and