a confusion of disapprobation and dislike, which warred with my appreciation of his appearance. For indeed, he showed to greater advantage in his dark blue tailcoat and cream-coloured breeches, than he had in an open shirt, standing in his doorway on a rainy night. The fine figure, the aquiline line of his nose, the dark glow of brown eyes, the sternly commanding countenance—all these cried out nobility where I now knew there to be only the vilest propensities. He divested himself of hat and walking stick, drew on his white gloves, and commenced to scan the room, as though in search of acquaintance; and an expression of glad alacrity encompassing his features not long thereafter, I assumed he had found it. A brisk step, a bow—and I was to see him exert his charms upon a slip of a girl, not above nineteen, and very pretty at that She was accompanied by an older, shrewish-looking woman, dressed all in mourning, whose aspect held less of warmth in regarding Mr. Sidmouth; and at their being joined presently by Mr. Crawford, I presumed the ladies to be of his household. But I had not time to observe their conversation, for behind Mr. Sidmouth stood Henry and Eliza.
I judged from the animation of the Comtesse's countenance that she had succeeded in scraping acquaintance with the master of High Down Grange. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes snapped, under the recent influence of his brusque regard; and Henry's brow bore a faint crease, as though already wearied by this rival for his wife's attentions.
‘Jane!” Eliza called, as she tripped on her small feet, encased in red satin slippers, across the room. Her bobbed brown head was adorned with pearls, and a cameo locket circled her neck on a length of dark red ribbon; her dress was of cream sarcenet, very fine for Lyme, and trimmed in the same rosy hue. Her gown slipped well down upon her arms, showing to advantage her excellent shoulders and bosom, in a manner that was all the Ixmdon rage, but which must have afforded dear Henry some anxious moments. What artistry the maid Manon employed to keep Eliza so bountifully displayed, and yet still clothed, never failed to amaze me.
“I have met your roguish suitor,” she confided, as she pecked me on the cheek, “and 1 applaud your taste. He will quite do for a heartless flirtation.”
“Do you imagine yourself to voice my intentions, Eliza, or your own?”
“Now, do not scold me, Jane. You know me too well to imagine I should steal your beaux. I am five-and-thirty at least”
In fact, she was three-and-forty, some ten years older than my brother Henry; but with a woman such as Eliza, whose beauty and spirits defy attempts to cage them, the flow of years is best left untallied. It may be that she had long since forgot to consider the anniversaries of her birth, and sincerely believed herself on the flow tide of forty; what is certain, in any case, is that age had no power to repress her.
“Mr. Sidmouth is not my beau,” I replied with asperity, “and I may say with feeling that I hope he never may be. I have heard such things of him tonight, Eliza, as confirm my worst suspicions. I believe him now to be the very worst sort of fellow, and must thank Providence for having allowed us to come to so little harm while under his roof.”
‘Oh, pshaw!” Eliza rejoined. “I see you are determined to sink me in respectability. I will not have it” She settled herself beside me and glanced quickly about the room, a sharp-eyed bird. “And with whom have you been dancing? For it can only be another man who would strip Sidmouth of his good name. Only one anxious to win your affections would attempt to assassinate his character.”
“I must disagree, Eliza,” I said drily, “for it seems calumny is more properly the province of women. Men have other weapons, that may carry mortal injury; but a lady may use only words.”
“Unless she employs poison, as she did at Scargrave,” Eliza said, sidelong, “but then gossip may be considered one of the most lethal of those, I suppose. I will not be convinced, Jane. A rival for your interest has torn Mr. Sidmouth's reputation. Do admit.”
“And there he comes,” I replied, as the gallant but limping form of the Captain appeared through the throng, “bearing a cup by way of peace-offering. Will you dance, Eliza, or have you