The dinner went on in the fashion of most dinners at great
houses,--commencing with arctic stiffness and formality, thawing
slightly towards the middle course, and attaining to just a pleasant
warmth of mutual understanding when ices and dessert gave warning of its
approaching close. Conversation at first flagged unaccountably, but
afterwards brightened under Lucio's influence to a certain gaiety. I did
my best to entertain Lady Sibyl, but found her like most 'society'
beauties, somewhat of a vague listener. She was certainly cold, and in a
manner irresponsive,--moreover I soon decided that she was not
particularly clever. She had not the art of sustaining or appearing to
sustain interest in any one subject; on the contrary, she had, like many
of her class, an irritating habit of mentally drifting away from you
into an absorbed reverie of her own in which you had no part, and which
plainly showed you how little she cared for anything you or anyone else
happened to be saying. Many little random remarks of hers however
implied that in her apparently sweet nature there lurked a vein of
cynicism and a certain contempt for men, and more than once her light
words stung my sense of self-love almost to resentment, while they
strengthened the force of my resolve to win her and bend that proud
spirit of hers to the meekness befitting the wife of a millionaire
and--a genius. A genius? Yes,--God help me!--that is what I judged
myself to be. My arrogance was two-fold,--it arose not only from what I
imagined to be my quality of brain, but also from the knowledge of what
my wealth could do. I was perfectly positive that I could buy Fame,--buy
it as easily as one buys a flower in the market,--and I was more than
positive that I could buy love. In order to commence proving the truth
of this, I threw out a 'feeler' towards my object.
"I believe," I said suddenly, addressing the Earl--"you used to live in
Warwickshire at Willowsmere Court did you not?"
Lord Elton flushed an apoplectic red, and swallowed a gulp of champagne
hastily.
"Yes-er-yes. I--er had the place for some time,--rather a bore to keep
up,--wants quite an army of servants."
"Just so;" I replied with a nod of appreciative comprehension--"I
presume it will require a considerable domestic retinue. I have arranged
to purchase it."
Lady Sibyl's frigid composure was at last disturbed--she looked
strangely agitated,--and the Earl stared till his eyes seemed likely to
fall out of his head.
"You? _You_ are going to buy Willowsmere?" he ejaculated.
"Yes. I have wired to my lawyers to settle the matter as quickly as
possible"--and I glanced at Lucio whose steel-bright eyes were fixed on
the Earl with curious intentness,--"I like Warwickshire,--and as I shall
entertain a great deal I think the place will suit me perfectly."
There was a moment's silence. Miss Charlotte Fitzroy sighed deeply, and
the lace bow on her severely parted hair trembled visibly. Diana Chesney
looked up with inquisitive eyes and a little wondering smile.
"Sibyl was born at Willowsmere,"--said the Earl presently in rather a
husky voice.
"A new charm is added to its possession by that knowledge,"--I said
gently, bowing to Lady Sibyl as I spoke--"Have you many recollections of
the place?"
"Indeed, indeed I have!" she answered with a touch of something like
passion vibrating in her accents--"There is no corner of the world I
love so well! I used to play on the lawns under the old oak-trees, and I
always gathered the first violets and primroses that came out on the
banks of the Avon. And when the hawthorn was in full flower I used to
make believe that the park was fairyland and I the fairy queen----"
"As you were and are!" interposed Lucio suddenly.