_Three Graces_
AT TWICKENHAM the young Duke recovered rapidly. Not altogether
displeased with his recent conduct, his self-complacency assisted his
convalescence. Sir Lucius Grafton visited him daily. Regularly, about
four or five o’clock, he galloped down to the Pavilion with the last _on
dit_: some gay message from White’s, a _mot_ of Lord Squib, or a trait
of Charles Annesley. But while he studied to amuse the wearisome hours
of his imprisoned friend, in the midst of all his gaiety an interesting
contrition was ever breaking forth, not so much by words as looks. It
was evident that Sir Lucius, although he dissembled his affliction,
was seriously affected by the consequence of his rash passion; and his
amiable victim, whose magnanimous mind was incapable of harbouring an
inimical feeling, and ever respondent to a soft and generous sentiment,
felt actually more aggrieved for his unhappy friend than for himself.
Of Arundel Dacre the Duke had not seen much. That gentleman never
particularly sympathised with Sir Lucius Grafton, and now he scarcely
endeavoured to conceal the little pleasure which he received from the
Baronet’s society. Sir Lucius was the last man not to detect this mood;
but, as he was confident that the Duke had not betrayed him, he could
only suppose that Miss Dacre had confided the affair to her family, and
therefore, under all circumstances, he thought it best to be unconscious
of any alteration in Arundel Dacre’s intercourse with him. Civil,
therefore, they were when they met; the Baronet was even courteous; but
they both mutually avoided each other.
At the end of three weeks the Duke of St. James returned to town in
perfect condition, and received the congratulations of his friends.
Mr. Dacre had been of the few who had been permitted to visit him at
Twickenham. Nothing had then passed between them on the cause of his
illness; but his Grace could not but observe that the manner of his
valued friend was more than commonly cordial. And Miss Dacre, with
her father, was among the first to hail his return to health and the
metropolis.
The Bird of Paradise, who, since the incident, had been several times in
hysterics, and had written various notes, of three or four lines each,
of enquiries and entreaties to join her noble friend, had been kept off
from Twickenham by the masterly tactics of Lord Squib. She, however,
would drive to the Duke’s house the day after his arrival in town, and
was with him when sundry loud knocks, in quick succession, announced an
approaching levée. He locked her up in his private room, and hastened
to receive the compliments of his visitors. In the same apartment, among
many others, he had the pleasure of meeting, for the first time, Lady
Aphrodite Grafton, Lady Caroline St. Maurice, and Miss Dacre, all women
whom he had either promised, intended, or offered to marry. A curious
situation this! And really, when our hero looked upon them once
more, and viewed them, in delightful rivalry, advancing with their
congratulations, he was not surprised at the feelings with which they
had inspired him. Far, far exceeding the _bonhomie_ of Macheath, the
Duke could not resist remembering that, had it been his fortune to have
lived in the land in which his historiographer will soon be wandering;
in short, to have been a pacha instead of a peer, he might have married
all three.
A prettier fellow and three prettier women had never met since the
immortal incident of Ida.
It required the thorough breeding of Lady Afy to conceal the anxiety of
her passion; Miss Dacre’s eyes showered triple sunshine, as she extended
a hand not too often offered; but Lady Caroline was a cousin, and
consanguinity, therefore, authorised as well as accounted for the warmth
of her greeting.