Alice laughed, and Darnley laughed; but he was embarrassed. "And Colonel Maubray, is he still living?" asked Alice.
"Oh, no, dear; he died ten or eleven months ago. A very foolish man, you know; he wasted a very good property. He was some distant relation, also; Mr. Brounker said your uncle, Mr. David Arden, was very much attached to him--they were schoolfellows, and great friends all their lives."
"I should not wonder," said Alice smiling--and then became silent.
"Do you know the young lady, this fortunate Miss Maubray?" said Lady May, turning to Vivian Darnley again.
"I? Yes--that is, I can't say more than a mere acquaintance--and not an old one. I made her acquaintance at Mr. Arden's house. He
is her guardian. I don't know about any other arrangements. I daresay there may be."
"Well, I know her a little, also," said Lady May. "I thought her pretty--and she sings a little, and she's clever."
"She's all that," said Alice. "Oh, here comes Dick! What do you say, Richard--is not Miss Maubray very pretty? We are making a plot to marry her to Vivian Darnley, and get Uncle David to contribute her dot."
"What benevolent people! You don't object, I dare say, Vivian."
"I have not been consulted," said he; "and, of course, Uncle David need not be consulted, as he has simply to transfer the proper
quantity of stock."
Richard Arden had drawn near Lady May, and said a few words in a low tone, which seemed not unwelcome to her.
"I saw Longcluse this morning. He has not been here, has he?" he added, as a little silence threatened the conversation. "No, he has not turned up. And what a charming person he is!" exclaimed Lady May.
"I quite agree with you, Lady May," said Arden. "He is, take him on every subject, I think, about the cleverest fellow I ever met--art, literature, games, chess, which I take to be a subject by itself. He is very great at chess--for an amateur, I mean--and when I was chess-mad, nearly a year ago and beginning to grow conceited, he opened my eyes, I can tell you; and Airly says he is the best musical critic in England, and can tell you at any hour who is who in the opera, all over Europe; and he really understands, what so few of us here know anything about, foreign politics, and all the people and their stories and scandals he has at his fingers' ends. And he is such good company, when he chooses, and such a gentleman always!"
"He is very agreeable and amusing when he takes the trouble; I always like to listen when Mr. Longcluse talks," said Alice Arden, to the secret satisfaction of her brother, whose enthusiasm was, I think, directed a good deal to her--and to, perhaps, the vexation of other people, whom she did not care at that moment to please.
"An Admirable Crichton!" murmured Vivian Darnley, with a rather hackneyed sneer. "Do you like his style of--beauty, I suppose I
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should call it? It has the merit of being very uncommon, at least, don't you think?"
"Beauty, I think, matters very little. He has no beauty, but his face has what, in a man, I think a great deal better--I mean refinement,
and cleverness, and a kind of satire that rather interests one," said Miss Arden, with animation.
Sir Walter Scott, in his "Rob Roy"--thinking, no doubt, of the Diana Vernon of his early days, the then beautiful lady, long afterwards celebrated by Basil Hall as the old Countess Purgstorf (if I rightly remember the title), and recurring to some cherished incident, and the thrill of a pride that had ceased to agitate, but was at once pleasant and melancholy to remember--wrote these words: "She proceeded to read the first stanza, which was nearly to the following purpose. [Then follow the verses.] 'There is a great deal of it,' said she, glancing along the paper, and interrupting the sweetest sounds that mortal ears can drink in--those of a youthful poet's verses, namely, read by the lips which are dearest to them." So writes Walter Scott. On the other hand, in certain states, is there a pain intenser than that of listening to the praises of another man from the lips we love?
"Well," said Darnley, "as you say so, I suppose there is all that, though I can't see it. Of course, if he tries to make himself agreeable (which he never does to me), it makes a difference, it affects everything--it affects even his looks. But I should not have thought him good-looking. On the contrary, he appears to me about as ugly a fellow as one could see in a day."
"He's not that," said Alice. "No one could be ugly with so much animation and so much expression."
"You take up the cudgels very prettily, my dear, for Mr. Longcluse," said Lady May. "I'm sure he ought to be extremely obliged to you."
"So he would be," said Richard Arden. "It would upset him for a week, I have no doubt."
There are few things harder to interpret than a blush. At these words the beautiful face of Alice Arden flushed, first with a faint, and then, as will happen, with a brighter crimson. If Lady May had seen it, she would have laughed, probably, and told her how much it became her. But she was, at that moment, going to her chair in the window, and Richard Arden would, of course, accompany her.
He did see it, as distinctly as he saw the glow in the sky over the park trees. But, knowing what a slight matter will sometimes make a recoil, and even found an antipathy, he wisely chose to see it not--and chatting gaily, followed Lady May to the window.
But Vivian Darnley, though he said nothing, saw that blush, of which Alice, with a sort of haughty defiance, was conscious. It did
not make him like or admire Mr. Longcluse more.
"Well, I suppose he is very charming--I don't know him well enough myself to give an opinion. But he makes his acquaintances
rather oddly, doesn't he? I don't think any one will dispute that."
"I don't know really. Lady May introduced him to me, and she seems to like him very much. So far as I can see, people are very well pleased at knowing him, and don't trouble their heads as to how it came about," said Miss Arden.
"No, of course; but people not fortunate enough to come within the influence of his fascination, can't help observing. How did
he come to know your brother, for instance? Did any one introduce him? Nothing of the kind. Richard's horse was hurt or lame at one of the hunts in Warwickshire, and he lent him a horse, and introduced himself, and they dined together that evening on the way back, and so the thing was done."
"Can there be a better introduction than a kindness?" asked Alice.
"Yes, where it is a kindness, I agree; but no one has a right to push his services upon a stranger who does not ask for them." "I really can't see. Richard need not have taken his horse if he had not liked," she answered.
"And Lady May, who thinks him such a paragon, knows no more about him than any one else. She had her footman behind her--
didn't she tell you all about it?"
"I really don't recollect; but does it very much matter?"
"I think it does--that is, it has been a sort of system. He just gave her his arm over a crossing, where she had taken fright, and then pretended to think her a great deal more frightened than she really can have been, and made her sit down to recover in a confec-tioner's shop, and so saw her home, and that affair was concluded. I don't say, of course, that he is never introduced in the regular
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way; but a year or two ago, when he was beginning, he always made his approaches by means of that kind of stratagem; and the fact is, no one knows anything on earth about him; he has emerged, like a figure in a phantasmagoria, from total darkness, and may lose himself in darkness again at any moment."
"I am interested in that man, whoever he is; his entrance, and his probable exit, so nearly resemble mine," said a clear, deep-toned voice close to them; and looking up, Miss Arden saw the pale face and peculiar smile of Mr. Longcluse in the fading twilight.