A Civil Contract

Chapter XIV

Three evenings later, just as he was sticking a pin in the folds of his neckcloth, Adam was interrupted by sounds unmistakably betokening his sister’s arrival. A peal on the front-door bell, accompanied by the vigorous use of the knocker, was shortly followed by the scamper of footsteps on the stairs, and Lydia’s voice calling gleefully: “Adam! Jenny!”

He grinned, and went out on to the landing in his shirtsleeves.

“Oh, Adam, isn’t it famous? Here I am!” cried Lydia, casting herself upon his chest. “Mr Chawleigh brought me — and in such style! Oh, Jenny, there you are! I do think your papa is the kindest person in the world! Mr Chawleigh, Mr Chawleigh, come up, pray! They are both here!”

Released from a hug that had irreparably damaged his freshly-tied neckcloth, Adam endorsed this invitation, saying, as he looked over the banisters: “Yes, do come up, sir! — if you have strength enough left after a day spent in this hoyden’s company! How do you do, sir? I am very much obliged to you!”

Mr Chawleigh, ponderously ascending the last flight, grasped Adam’s outstretched hand, and replied, his countenance wreathed in a broad smile: “Ay, I thought you would be! Well, Jenny-lass, I’ve brought her to you, all right and tight, you see, and no fear you’ll fall into the dismals with her about the house! I’ll be off now I’ve seen her safe in your hands.”

“By all means — if you wish to offend us beyond forgiveness!” said Adam. “Or do you imagine that Jenny holds household in such a nip-cheese way as to be put out by the arrival of a mere couple of unexpected guests? You should know her better!”

“I told you so!” interpolated Lydia triumphantly.

“But you’ve company? Nay, I won’t say!” said Mr Chawleigh.

“No, we haven’t, Papa; it’s only that we are going, later, to Lady Castlereagh’s assembly — and we need not, need we, Adam?”

“We need, but not for a few hours yet. Come into my dressing-room, won’t you, sir, while I finish rigging myself out? Fetch up the sherry, Kinver!”

“Nay, I can’t sit down to dinner with you in all my dirt!”

“Well, that’s a pretty thing to say, when we had it fixed that you would take me to dine at an hotel, if we found no one at home here!” interrupted Lydia indignantly. “You didn’t say you couldn’t sit down in all your dirt when it was only me!”

Delighted to be overborne, Mr Chawleigh went with Adam into his dressing-room, chuckling and shaking his head. “If ever I met such a saucy puss! Well, I don’t know when I’ve taken such a fancy to a girl, and that’s a fact!”

“I’m glad. I’m rather partial to her myself, but I own I was afraid you might find her a trifle exhausting!”

“It ’ud take more than Miss Lyddy to exhaust Jonathan Chawleigh. As good as ever twanged, she is. You wouldn’t credit how quickly the time passed! Ay, and a real pleasure it is to set her down to a nuncheon! She’s not one to ask for tea and toast when you’ve fairly bust yourself, ordering what you think she might fancy! Well, we stopped for a bite at the Peacock, and a set of robbers they may be, but I will say this for them: a very tolerable spread they had laid out for us, for I’d bespoken it beforehand, and a private parlour too, of course, which I told her la’ship I’d done, just to set her mind at ease. ‘No need to fear I’ll be letting Miss Lydia set foot inside a common coffee-room,’ I said, ‘nor that any pert young jackanapes will come ogling her while Jonathan Chawleigh has her in charge. She’ll be taken care of as if she was my own daughter, and fairer than that I can’t say.’ Which she was, as I hope I don’t need to tell you.”

“No, indeed you don’t. Did you — did you find it hard to persuade my mother?”

“Oh, no!” replied Mr Chawleigh indulgently. “Mind you, that’s not to say she didn’t raise a lot of nidging objections: but that was no more than female fiddle-faddle — not meaning any disrespect towards her la’ship! — and soon settled. ‘Now, don’t you tease yourself over her being a trouble to me, ma’am,’ I said, “because she won’t be; and as for her not being ready to go to London I’ll warrant she could be ready in five minutes if she chose. So I’ll take myself off to the Christopher, where I’m racking up,’ I said, ‘and be back first thing in the morning to take Miss Lydia up.’ So there was no more said, for she saw I wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

This account was later amplified by Lydia, who said that however ungenteel Mr Chawleigh might be he was, in her view, a splendid person. “Adam, he rolled Mama out like pastry! There was never anything like it! Though I must own that the lobsters helped.”

“Lobsters?” Adam interjected, fascinated.

“Oh, he brought a couple of live ones from Bristol, and a jar of ginger, for a present to Mama! They were in a rush-basket, and one of them kept trying to climb out. Well, you know what Mama is, Adam! She couldn’t take her eyes from it, which quite distracted her. And then Mr Chawleigh mended the handle on the drawing-room door. It has been most troublesome, but he said he could set it to rights in a trice, if we had a screwdriver. We hadn’t, of course — I think it’s a sort of chisel — but he said very likely we had something that would answer as well, and he went off to the kitchen to see what he could find there.” She gave a gurgle of laughter. “If you could have seen Mama’s face! Particularly when he came back, and read her a scold about the damper in the stove. He said it was being quite wrongly used, and told her exactly how it should be. I was nearly in stitches, because poor Mama hadn’t the least notion what he was talking about! And this I will say: she behaved beautifully, and even invited him to stay to dine with us, which was truly noble of her! However, he wouldn’t do so, but said he hadn’t come to put her out, and anyway had bespoken his dinner at the Christopher.. And though she said nothing would prevail upon her to let me go with him, she did let me, because she was persuaded she would have one of her worst spasms if she had to see him again!”

“But what a scene!” he said, awed by it. “And I wasn’t there! It’s too infamous!”

She chuckled. “Yes, but I dare say you might not have enjoyed it if you had been, on account of having more sensibility than I have, and not wishing Mama to take him in dislike. For my part, I like him, and I don’t give a straw for his being a funny one: in fact, we have become the greatest friends, and he is going to take me to the City, and show me all the chief places, and let me watch them mint the coins in the Tower, and everything!”

It was soon seen that she was making no idle boast. Not only did Mr Chawleigh redeem this promise, but he began to visit Lynton House more frequently, and always with some scheme for Lydia’s entertainment. It seemed to him a great piece of nonsense that she could not go with her brother and sister to parties, and he was much inclined to take Jenny to task for not presenting her at Court immediately.

“Well, I wish I might,” she replied, “but I haven’t Lady Lynton’s leave to do so, as I’ve told you a dozen times, Papa! You wouldn’t have me behave so improperly as to do it without her leave — now, you know you wouldn’t!”

“If only I’d thought to speak to her la’ship about it!” he said. “I don’t doubt I could have talked her over. And if I’d known Miss Lydia would be obliged to sit moping here while you and his lordship go gadding to all manner of grand parties — I’ll tell you what, puss! — you and me will drive into the City to see the illuminations, and have a bite of supper at the Piazza afterwards! That is, if his lordship’s agreeable!”

“Of course he’ll be agreeable!” declared Lydia, delighted with this scheme. “I should like it better than anything too!”

“Yes, but only if Adam says you may go,” Jenny said firmly, by no means sure that he would approve of his sister’s jauntering about the town with her parent.

When she broached the matter to him, however, he merely said: “How kind of your father! No, I’ve no objection — if he really wishes to take her, and won’t find it a bore.”

“Oh, there’s no question of that!” she replied. “He says it’s a pleasure to take her about, because she enjoys herself so much.” She added reflectively: “She is just the sort of girl he would have liked for his daughter, I think. She has so much zest, besides being full of drollery!”

“For my part, I think he is very well satisfied with his own daughter!”

“I know he loves me dearly, but there’s no denying I’m often a sad disappointment to him. Well, it can’t be helped, but I do wish I was pretty, and spirited, and amusing!”

“I don’t — if spirited means what I suspect it does. As for amusing, I think you very amusing, Jenny!”

“That’s polite, but you mean you think me absurd: a very different thing!” she retorted. “I daresay you won’t object either to my taking Lydia to Russell Square one day? She wants to see the Cossack, who stands outside Mr Lawrence’s house whenever the Tsar goes there to have his likeness taken! Did you ever? If it isn’t just like Papa to tell her that! Butterbank is friendly with Mr Lawrence’s man, you know, and so is able to warn Papa when the Tsar is expected. Myself, I don’t care a button for the Tsar — or for the King of Prussia, either, though he’s very handsome, I own, in spite of looking so melancholy. And I’m sure I don’t blame him for that,” she added, “for the way he and the rest of them can’t stir a foot without having crowds gaping at them is enough to throw anyone into gloom!”

“Don’t let Lydia tease you into going to Russell Square if you don’t care for it!” he said. “She’ll see the foreigners at the Opera, after all.”

“She won’t see the Cossack there. Come to think of it, she won’t see much of the Kings and Princes either, because our box is on the same side as the Royal box. Still, there will be plenty more to look at, I daresay.”

She spoke more prophetically than she knew: there was far more for Lydia to look at than anyone could have foreseen. Her view of the Regent, with the Tsar on one hand, the King of Prussia on the other, and a bevy of foreign notables grouped behind them, was restricted; but the Lyntons’ box was admirably situated for anyone desirous of seeing the Princess of Wales.

She had been excluded from participating in any of the Royal festivities; but she had her revenge on the Regent, sweeping into the box directly opposite his while God Save the King was being sung. She was attired in black velvet, with a black wig on her head, supporting a diamond tiara, and she presented such a striking figure that she attracted the attention of nearly everyone but her Royal husband.

The anthem ended, and as the Grassini, whose rich contralto voice had led it, curtsied deeply to the Royal box, a storm of clapping broke out in the pit. It was directed pointedly at the Princess, but she took her seat without making any acknowledgement, only smiling wryly, and saying something to one of her suite.

The Regent, meanwhile, had been applauding the Grassini, but the prolonged clapping made him turn, and bow graciously — but whether he bowed to the audience or to his wife was a question hotly argued but never decided.

However it may have been, it seemed to Lydia a rare piece of good fortune that anything so startling should have happened at the very first public function she had attended; and it made her forget that the evening had begun none too comfortably.

Jenny had bought her a swansdown tippet for the occasion, and had persuaded her to wear the pearls Lady Nassington had declared to be too large for her own neck; but when Adam had seen his sister he had said quite sharply: “Where had you that necklace? Surely it is Jenny’s?”

“Yes, she has lent it to me just for tonight. Isn’t it kind of her?”

His face had stiffened, but he said pleasantly: “Very kind, but I had rather you didn’t. It’s worth a king’s ransom, you know — and I’m certain Mama would say it was not the thing for a chit of your age!”

“No, she wouldn’t! She says that pearls are the only jewels chits of my age may wear! And I promise to take the greatest care — ”

“Haven’t you a necklace of your own?” he interrupted.

“Yes, but mere trumpery! If Jenny chooses to lend her pearls to me I don’t see why you should object!” Lydia said indignantly.

Jenny laid a hand on her arm, saying in rather a tight voice: “Perhaps they are not quite the thing. Your own crystals will be better — they are very pretty, after all! Come upstairs quickly, and change the necklace before Brough arrives! Please, Lydia!”

Lydia was suddenly aware of tension, and glancing from Adam to Jenny saw that Jenny’s face was much flushed. Yielding to the tug at her wrist she went out of the room with her, but demanded as soon as the door was shut: “But — but why?”

Jenny shook her head, and hurried up the stairs. “I shouldn’t have — he is perfectly right: you are too young!”

“But why should he be so vexed? It isn’t at all like him!”

Jenny took the pearls from her, and turned away to restore them to her jewel-casket. “He wasn’t vexed with you. Don’t heed it!”

“Was he vexed with you, then? But what had you done, pray?”

“It was only that he didn’t like to see you wearing my pearls. It was stupid of me! I forgot — it didn’t occur to me — ” She broke off, and forced up a smile, “Are you ready? Shall we go downstairs?”

“Do you mean that he didn’t like me to wear pearls that aren’t my own?” asked Lydia. “But I have often worn Charlotte’s trinkets!”

“That’s different. Adam has scruples — I can’t explain! One should take care, if one is very wealthy, not to — not to obtrude it! Well, it was a downright vulgar thing to have done! I didn’t mean it so, but that’s what it was: tossing my pearls to you like that!”

“It was excessively kind of you!” said Lydia. “Sisterly! Like buying this tippet for me! I collect Adam would object to that too?”

“Oh, don’t tell him!” Jenny begged. “It’s only a trifle, after all, but — Hark! wasn’t that the knocker? We must go down. I told them to serve dinner as soon as Brough arrived, because it won’t do to be late at the Opera House.”

She left the room, putting an end to further discussion. But Lydia had nothing to say. A curtain had been lifted, allowing her a glimpse behind the scene of what had seemed to her innocence a state of remarkable felicity. Too young to probe beneath the surface, it had not occurred to her that two people who presented to the world an appearance of calm content might not be as happy as they seemed. It was not the first time she had had such a disquieting glimpse, but on the previous occasion Adam had recovered himself so quickly that she had soon been able to forget the incident. He and Jenny seemed to stand on such easy terms that she had not wondered whether there were shoals beneath those placid waters. To his seventeen-year-old sister it was almost impossible to suppose that Adam was still in love with Julia. Sacrifice Lydia could appreciate; a smiling sacrifice was much harder to recognize, and very hard indeed to understand.

It was in a perturbed mood that she followed Jenny down to the drawing-room. There had been more than vexation in Adam’s face when he had seen that she was wearing Jenny’s pearls: there had been a look of revulsion; and Jenny had recognized it, and had been hurt by it. Between Adam and Jenny there could be no comparison, but it was, nevertheless, unkind of him to have wounded Jenny, who hadn’t meant to offend him.

She was relieved to see, as she entered the drawing-room, that he smiled warmly at Jenny. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, as she shook hands with Brough, she had refined too much upon the incident; perhaps Adam really felt that the pearls were too magnificent for a girl to wear.

Had she but known it, he was deeply conscious of having allowed his revulsion to overcome his forbearance. Seizing the opportunity afforded by her being engaged with Brough, he went up to Jenny, saying in a lowered tone: “Thank you! I shouldn’t have enjoyed a minute’s peace if you hadn’t persuaded her to take it off! What a hare-brained thing to do, to lend your pearls to my romp of a sister!” She answered only with a constrained smile. He was tempted to leave the subject, but she was wearing her wooden look, always a sign of distress. Infamous to have wounded her, he thought, when she had meant nothing but good! He tried again. “What’s more, it wouldn’t be at all the thing for a girl in Lydia’s circumstances to go about with a fortune round her neck.”

Her countenance relaxed; she said: “No, very true! I hadn’t considered — I only thought how well the necklace would become her. I’m sorry!”

“Which it certainly did! Poor Lydia! I wish I may not be in disgrace with her!”

She laughed, and Lydia, hearing her, instantly forgave Adam. Perhaps married persons were subject to tiffs; at all events, everything was comfortable again, with Jenny her placid self, and Adam in quite his best spirits. She went down to dinner feeling that it was going to be a good party after all, which, indeed, it was. Nor was there any further sign of misunderstanding between Jenny and Adam, so that she was soon able to banish the incident from her mind, and to think instead of all the excitements in store for her.

The best of these, in her opinion, would be the processions of the Allied Sovereigns to the Guildhall; for Jenny, everything else dwindled to insignificance beside the gilt-edged card which invited Lord and Lady Lynton to attend a Dress Party at Carlton House on Thursday, 21st July, to have the honour of meeting Her Majesty the Queen. Jenny’s first thought, on receiving this, was that it must be a hoax; her second that it was a thousand pities Lydia could not attend the function. She was astonished to learn that Lydia had no particular desire to attend it; and quite shocked by the discovery that the Regent, in Lydia’s view, was a fat old man, who creaked when he moved, and reeked of scent and Diabolino. He had visited Fontley when she was a very little girl, and she had been obliged to endure his pinching her cheek, and calling her sweetheart. “And the Queen is a snuffy old thing,” she said. “Watching the processions will be far better sport!”

Besides the four Oversleys, and Brough, Jenny had invited Mr and Mrs Usselby to go with them on this occasion. It was Adam’s private conviction that some of the guests would fail to arrive before the Strand was closed to vehicles; but he found that he had underrated Jenny’s talent for organization. She invited all the guests to partake of an early breakfast in Grosvenor Street, saying that she had not taken parties to watch the Lord Mayor’s Show for years without learning how to arrange such affairs. “It’s my belief that if you invite people to go to a show you must get them together, and take them to it, if you don’t wish to be in a worry, wondering if they’ll arrive in time.”

Thanks to this foresight all went smoothly, the guests assembling at Lynton House for breakfast, and going on afterwards in three carriages to the Strand. They reached their destination without much trouble, but early in the day though it was the street was fast filling with sightseers. Stabling had been arranged; but how long it would be after the processions had passed before the crowds converging upon the route dispersed sufficiently to allow the passage of vehicles was a question which caused Lord Oversley to remark ruefully to Adam that they might think themselves fortunate if they reached their homes again in time for dinner.

Mr Chawleigh, with his customary munificence, had hired the whole building for the accommodation of the party; and, besides ordering a large and varied nuncheon from Gunter’s, with several cases of his best champagne, he had sent Butterbank, with two liveried subordinates, to wait on the company. Lady Oversley was quite as much startled as Mrs Usselby at being received by two footmen, but when she had been conducted upstairs to the first floor, and saw that besides the benches set up in the windows the room had been furnished with several comfortable chairs she was easily able to condone this ostentation. Adam found it more difficult, but not by the flicker of an eyelid did he betray that these lavish preparations had been made without his knowledge or approval. The Usselbys might exchange significant glances, but Mr Charles Oversley, forgetful of the indifference befitting a man of mode, ejaculated, as his eyes fell on the table already spread with pies, pates, capons, a glazed ham, and fruit, creams, and jellies past counting: “By Jupiter, this is something like!”

There were some hours to while away before the head of the procession was expected to come into sight, but the time passed more quickly than the more pessimistic members of the party had expected. Lady Oversley sat down to enjoy a cosy chat with Jenny; Lord Oversley fell asleep over the Morning Post; and the rest of the party gathered in the two windows, discussing such topics as the breaking-off of the Princess Charlotte’s engagement, and the shocking result of Lord Cochrane’s trial; and being amused by watching the crowds in the street, and laying bets on which of the females within view would be the next to drop down in a swoon.

Since Brough was devoting himself to Lydia the merest civility must have obliged Adam to sit down beside Julia, but Lady Oversley, stealing more than one apprehensive look towards them, wished that she knew what they were saying to each other. She would scarcely have been reassured had she been able to overhear their conversation, for a chance recollection had led to the exchange of reminiscences, which she might have thought dangerous. Recalling visits to Fontley, Julia said with a sigh: “I suppose it is all changed now.”

“Nothing has been changed there,” Adam replied,

“I’m glad. Your mama was used to complain that it was become shabby, but it was so beautiful! I loved it, and should weep to see it made smart.” She raised her eyes to his face. “Is it agreeable to be very wealthy?”

“I am not very wealthy.”

“No? Well, the wealth may be Jenny’s, but your life is very luxurious, isn’t it? It must be pleasant to have everything you want, I suppose.”

He stared at her for a moment, but said at last, evenly enough: “I suppose so — if it were possible.”

She again raised her eyes, and he saw the tears in them. “Everything that can be bought. They say happiness can be bought. I had not thought so, but I don’t know. Are you happy, Adam?”

“How can you ask me such a question?” he said. “You must know — ” He stopped, and looked away from her.

“I want to know. You seem happy. And I wonder if, perhaps — ” She broke off, a tiny frown on her brow. “I may be married myself soon,” she said abruptly. “Shall you care for that?”

It was like a blow over the heart, but he had schooled himself to withstand it, and he replied: “Yes. But I shall wish you very happy. There’s nothing else left to us but to wish each other well, is there? Who — Or must I not ask?”

“Why not? It’s Rockhill, of course.”

“Rockhill?” he repeated incredulously. “You’re not serious? A man old enough to have been your father, and one, moreover, who — You can’t mean it!”

She smiled rather mournfully. “If you could marry a fortune, why should not I?” she asked.

“The case is different! You know why I — ” he checked himself.

“Oh, yes, I know! But did you think I had fallen in love? Could you think so?”

“Not that! But — O God, I don’t know! Only that every feeling revolts — !”

“Does it? Every feeling revolted in me once, but I didn’t tell you so.” He could not answer her, and she said in a softer tone: “Don’t mind it! I mean to try if I can’t be a little happy. He’s charming, you know, and when I’m with him I feel — oh, peaceful! No, not quite that — I can’t explain! But he loves me, and I must be loved! I can’t live if I’m not loved!”

They were interrupted. Mr Oversley exclaimed that he could hear cheering in the distance, and adjured his parents to come to the window directly. All was bustle at once, and Adam had time to recover himself while everyone’s attention was distracted. As he performed his duties, arranging his guests suitably in the windows, no one would have guessed that beneath his smiling calm a tumult of emotion was raging. Julia’s words had been knife-thrusts; he winced under them, and was startled to recognize in the medley of rage, jealousy, and hopeless desire, resentment. The thought flashed through his mind that she might have spared him. It was gone in a moment, yielding to remorse, and an aching pity. Though he had been the victim of circumstance he was the author of her unhappiness, and that she was unhappy he could not doubt: she had spoken them in a whisper, but her last words had been a cry; and in her lovely face had been a look that was almost distraught.

“Here they come!” Lydia’s voice broke in on his painful thoughts. “Oh, how dashing! Adam, what are they? Which regiment?”

He was standing behind her, and leaned forward to look down at the escort. “Light Dragoons,” he replied, adding, as his eyes took in the buff facings on the blue uniforms: “The Eleventh — the Cherry Pickers!”

She began to demand an explanation of this nickname, but broke off as the first of the seven carnages carrying the officers of the Regent’s household followed the escort. In identifying these personages Brough was found to be more knowledgeable than Adam, who was able to relax his attention again. Mrs Usselby was positive she had recognized General Platoff amongst the foreign generals, but admitted, after argument, that she must have been mistaken, since the Tsar’s procession, coming from the Pulteney Hotel, would follow the Regent’s.

The state carriages bearing the Royal Dukes followed the generals. Adam glanced towards the other window, to be sure that everyone was enjoying a good view. His eyes fell on his wife’s face. She was standing, like himself, behind her guests, and never had she looked plainer. There were spots of high colour on her cheekbones, but under them she was sallow, a trifle hagged. He looked away, unable to bear the comparison with Julia, seated quite close to her.

The Speaker’s coach had passed, and the carriages bearing the members of the Cabinet. A troop of Horse Guards came next, preceding the Regent’s officers of state, and the foreign suites. As these carriages went slowly past a slight movement to his right made Adam turn his head just in time to see Jenny going unobtrusively out of the room, her handkerchief pressed to her lips. He hesitated; and then, remembering that he had several times thought that she was looking dragged and weary, he withdrew quietly from the window, and followed her.

She had gone into the back-parlour, and had sunk into a chair there. Here eyes lifted as he entered; she removed the handkerchief from her mouth to say faintly: “It’s nothing! I shall be better directly — pray go back! Don’t say anything about this!”

He shut the door, looking at her in concern. “You are ill, Jenny: what is it?”

“I was overcome by the heat. Oh, do go back! I shall come in a minute,”

“I’ll see if Lady Oversley has any smelling-salts. You don’t carry them, I know!”

“No! I don’t need them, and I don’t wish anyone to know!”

“But — ”

Her chest heaved. “I don’t feel faint. I feel sick!” This unromantic disclosure made him smile, but it was with real compassion that he said: “My poor dear!”

“It’s nothing!” she repeated.

He went back into the other room, to collect a bottle of champagne from the wine-cooler. Nearly all his guests had their attention fixed on the eight cream horses drawing the Regent’s state carriage, but Lady Oversley looked round as he came into the room, and came to him, whispering: “Is Jenny unwell? Shall I go to her?”

He replied beneath his breath: “Just a trifle overcome by the heat. Don’t heed it! She can’t bear that anyone should know, and be made uncomfortable.”

She appreciated this. “To be sure! Tell her she may depend on me to turn it off, if — anyone should remark on her absence. Take my salts! You’ll fetch me, if you should need me.”

Thus armed, he returned to the other parlour. Jenny was leaning back in her hair with her eyes closed, but she opened them when he held the vinaigrette under her nose, and said angrily: “Where had you that? I most particularly asked you not to tell anyone!”

“Stop ripping up at me, little shrew! I had it from Lady Oversley, and all I told her was that you were overcome by the heat. I was obliged to do so, because she had seen you slip away.”

She subsided, and took the vinaigrette from him, sniffing, and saying crossly: “Such stuff! Me to be languishing over a bottle of smelling-salts! Now, don’t go opening that champagne, for I don’t want it! I’m better, and there’s no need for any commotion on my account!”

He thought she looked far from well, but he merely said, as he eased the cork out of the bottle and poured the frothing wine into a glass: “Try if my cordial doesn’t make you feel a degree stouter! Come, Jenny! — to please me!”

The coaxing note brought a tinge of colour back into her cheeks; she received the glass from him in a hand that shook slightly, and said in her gruffest voice: “Thank you! You’re very good!”

He waited until she had drunk some of the wine, and had begun to recover her complexion, and then said: “Now tell me, Jenny, what’s the matter? You’ve been out of sorts lately, haven’t you? Have you been trotting too hard?”

“No, of course I haven’t!”

“Then what is it?”

She cast him a goaded look. “If you must know, I’m increasing!” she said baldly.