The Bow of Orange Ribbon - Page 140/189

"And, pray, whom did you see there, my dear? and what were they talking

about?"

"Of all people, grandmother, I saw Lady Susan Rye and the rest of her

sort; and they talked of nothing else but the coming mask at Ranelagh's.

Cousin, I bespeak you for my service. I am going as a gypsy, for it will

give me the opportunity of telling the truth. In my own character, I

rarely do it: nothing is so impolite. But I have a prodigious regard for

truth; and at a mask I give myself the pleasure of saying all the

disagreeable things that I owe to my acquaintances."

Katherine was almost ignored; and Hyde did not feel any desire to bring

even her name into such a mocking, jeering, perfectly heartless

conversation. He was content to laugh, and let the hour go past in such

flim-flams of criticism and persiflage. He remembered when he had been

one of the units in such a life, and he wondered if it were possible

that he could ever drift back into it. For even as he sat there, with

the memory of his wife and child in his heart, he felt the light charm

of Lady Arabella's claim upon him, and all the fascination of that gay,

thoughtless animal life which appeals so strongly to the selfish

instincts and appetites of youth.

He had a plate of roast hare and a goblet of wine, and the ladies had

chocolate and rout cakes; and he ate and drank, and laughed, and enjoyed

their bright, ill-natured pleasantry, as men enjoy such piquant morsels.

Thus a couple of hours passed; and then it became evident, from the

pawing and snorting outside, that Mephisto's patience was quite

exhausted. Hyde went to the window, and looked into the square. His

orderly was vainly endeavoring to soothe the restless animal; and he

said, "Mephisto will take no excuse, cousin, and I find myself obliged

to leave you." But he went away in an excitement of hope and gay

anticipations; and, with a sharp rebuke to the unruly animal, he vaulted

into the saddle with soldierly grace and rapidity. A momentary glance

upward showed him Lady Capel and Lady Suffolk at the window, watching

him; the withered old woman in her soiled wrappings, the youthful beauty

in all the bravery of her white and gold poudesoy. In spite of

Mephisto's opposition, he made them a salute; and then, in a clamour of

clattering hoofs, he dashed through the square.

"That is the man you ought to have married Arabella," said Lady Capel,

as she watched the young face at her side, which had suddenly become

pensive and dreamy: "you would have been a couple for the world to look

at."