_Friday night_.
LUNCHEON passed off very well. Sir Charles returned from the City
improved in temper, and, as Lady Ver had predicted, presented her with
a Cartier jewel. It was a brooch, not a ring, but she was delighted,
and purred to him.
He was a little late and we were seated, a party of eight, when he
came in. They all chaffed him about Paris, and he took it quite
good-humouredly--he even seemed pleased. He has no wit, but he looks
like a gentleman, and I daresay as husbands go he is suitable.
I am getting quite at home in the world, and can talk to any one. I
listen and I do not talk much, only when I want to say something that
makes them think.
A very nice man sat next me to-day, he reminded me of the old generals
at Branches. We had quite a war of wits, and it stimulated me.
He told me, among other things, when he discovered who I was, that he
had known papa--papa was in the same Guards with him--and that he was
the best-looking man of his day. Numbers of women were in love with
him, he said, but he was a faithless being and rode away.
“He probably enjoyed himself, don’t you think so? and he had the good
luck to die in his zenith,” I said.
“He was once engaged to Lady Merrenden, you know. She was Lady Sophia
Vavasour then, and absolutely devoted to him, but Mrs. Carruthers came
between them and carried him off; she was years older than he was, too,
and as clever as paint.”
“Poor papa seems to have been a weak creature, I fear.”
“All men are weak,” he said.
“And then he married and left Mrs. Carruthers, I suppose?” I asked. I
wanted to hear as much as I could.
“Yes--e--s,” said my old Colonel. “I was best man at the wedding----”
“And what was she like, my mamma?”
“She was the loveliest creature I ever saw,” he said; “as lovely as
you, only you are the image of your father, all but the hair, his was
fair.”
“No one has ever said I was lovely before. Oh! I am so glad if you
think so,” I said. It did please me. I have often been told I am
attractive and extraordinary, and wonderful, and divine--but never just
lovely. He would not say any more about my parents, except they hadn’t
a _sou_ to live on, and were not very happy; Mrs. Carruthers took care
of that.
Then, as every one was going, he said: “I am awfully glad to have met
you--we must be pals, for the sake of old times,” and he gave me his
card for me to keep his address, and told me if ever I wanted a friend
to send him a line, Colonel Tom Carden, The Albany.