'I do, I know.' Lord Popplecourt endeavoured to look as though he intended to understand that she was the pretty thing which he most particularly liked. She partly conceived his meaning, and was disgusted accordingly. On the other side of her sat Mr Boncassen, to whom she had been introduced in the drawing-room,--and who had said a few words to her about some Norwegian poet. She turned round to him, and asked him some questions about Skald, and so, getting into conversation with him, managed to turn her shoulder to her suitor. On the other side of him sat Lady Rosina De Courcy, to whom, as being an old woman and an old maid, he felt very little inclined to be courteous. She said a word, asking him whether he did not think the weather was treacherous. He answered her very curtly, and sat bolt upright, looking forward on the table, and taking his dinner as it came to him. He had been put there in order that Lady Mary Palliser might talk to him, and he regarded interference on the part of that old American as being ungentlemanlike. But the old American disregarded him, and went on with his quotations from the Scandinavian bard. But Mr Boncassen sat next to Lady Cantrip, and when at last he was called upon to give his ear to the countess, Lady Mary was again vacant for Popplecourt's attentions. 'Are you very fond of poetry?' he asked.
'Very fond.'
'So am I. Which do you like best, Tennyson or Shakespeare?'
'They are very unlike.'
'Yes;--they are unlike. Or Moore's Melodies. I am very fond of "When in death I shall calm recline". I think this equal to anything. I think Reginald Dobbes would have it as all bosh.'
'Then I think that Mr Reginald Dobbes must be all bosh himself.'
'There was a man there named Tregear who had brought some books.'
Then there was a pause. Lady Mary had not a word to say. 'Dobbes used to declare that he was always pretending to read poetry.'
'Mr Tregear never pretends anything.'
'Do you know him?' asked the rival.
'He's my brother's most particular friend.'
'Ah! yes. I dare say Silverbridge has talked to you about him. I think he's a stuck-up sort of fellow.' To this there was not a word of reply. 'Where did your brother pick him up?'
'They were at Oxford together.'
'I must say I think he gives himself airs;--because, you know, he's nobody.'
'I don't know anything of the kind,' said Lady Mary, becoming very red. 'And as he is my brother's most particular friend,--his very friend of friends,--I think you had better not abuse him to me.'
'I don't think the Duke is very fond of him.'
'I don't care who is fond of him. I am very fond of Silverbridge, and I won't hear his friend ill spoken of. I dare say he had some books with him. He is not at all the sort of man to go to a place and satisfy himself with doing nothing but killing animals.'
'Do you know him, Lady Mary?'
'I have seen him, and of course I have heard a great deal of him from Silverbridge. I would rather not talk any more about him.'
'You seem to be very fond of Mr Tregear,' he said angrily.
'It is no business of yours, Lord Popplecourt, whether I am fond of anybody or not. I have told you that Mr Tregear is my brother's friend, and that ought to be enough.'
Lord Popplecourt was a young man possessed of a certain amount of ingenuity. It was said of him that he knew on which side his bread was buttered, and that if you wished to take him in you must get up early. After dinner, and during the night he pondered a good deal on what he had heard. Lady Cantrip had told him there had been a--dream. What was he to believe about that dream? Had he not better avoid the error of putting too fine a point upon it, and tell himself at once that a dream in this instance meant a--lover!
Lady Mary had already been troubled by a lover! He was disposed to believe that young ladies often do have objectionable lovers, and that things get themselves right afterwards. Young ladies can be made to understand the beauty of coal mines almost as readily as young gentlemen. There would be the two hundred thousand pounds; and there was the girl, beautiful and well-born, and thoroughly well-mannered. But what if this Tregear and the dream were one and the same? If so, had he not received plenty of evidence that the dream had not yet passed away? A remnant of affection for the dream would not have been a fatal barrier, had not the girl been so fierce with him in her defence of her dream.
He remembered too, what the Duke had said about Tregear, and Lady Cantrip's advice to him to be silent in respect to this man. And then do girls generally defend their brother's friends as she had defended Tregear? He thought not. Putting all these things together on the following morning he came to an uncomfortable belief that Tregear was the dream.
Soon after that he found himself near to Dolly Longstaff as they were shooting. 'You know that fellow Tregear, don't you?'
'Oh Lord yes. He is Silverbridge's pal.'
'Did you ever hear anything about him?'
'What sort of thing?'
'Was he ever--in love with anyone?'
'I fancy he used to be awfully spooney on Mab Grex. I remember hearing that they were to have been married, only that neither of them had sixpence.'
'Oh--Lady Mabel Grex! That's a horse of another colour.'
'And which is the horse of your colour?'
'I haven't got a horse,' said Popplecourt, going away to his own corner.
