But, of all the members of the family to which his memory recurred with such unflagging interest, none more frequently engaged his thoughts than Miss Arundel. Her conversation, which stimulated his intelligence while it rather piqued his self-love, exercised a great influence over him, and he had omitted no opportunity of enjoying her society. That society and its animating power he sadly missed; and now that he had before him the very drawings about which they had frequently talked, and she was not by his side to suggest and sympathize and criticism and praise, he felt unusually depressed.
Lothair corresponded with Lady St. Jerome, and was aware of her intended movements. But the return the family to London had been somewhat delayed. When this disappointment was first made known to him, his impulse was to ride down to Vauxe; but the tact in which he was not deficient assured him that he ought not to reappear on a stage where he had already figured for perhaps too considerable a time, and so another week had to be passed, softened, however, by visits from the father of the oratory and the chamberlain of his holiness, who came to look after Lothair with much friendliness, and with whom it was consolatory and even delightful for him to converse on sacred art, still holier things, and also Miss Arundel.
At length, though it seemed impossible, this second week elapsed, and to-morrow Lothair was to lunch with Lady St. Jerome in St. Jamess Square, and to meet all his friends. He thought of it all day, and he passed a restless night. He took an early canter to rally his energies, and his fancy was active in the splendor of the spring. The chestnuts were in silver bloom, and the pink May had flushed the thorns, and banks of sloping turf were radiant with plots of gorgeous flowers. The waters glittered in the sun, and the air was fragrant with that spell which only can be found in metropolitan mignonette. It was the hour and the season when heroic youth comes to great decisions, achieves exploits, or perpetrates scrapes.
Nothing could be more cordial, nothing more winning, than the reception of Lothair by Lady St. Jerome. She did not conceal her joy at their being again together. Even Miss Arundel, though still calm, even a little demure, seemed glad to see him: her eyes looked kind and pleased, and she gave him her hand with graceful heartiness. It was the sacred hour of two when Lothair arrived, and they were summoned to luncheon almost immediately. Then they were not alone; Lord St. Jerome was not there, but the priests were present and some others. Lothair, however, sat next to Miss Arundel.
I have been thinking of you very often since I left Vauxe, said Lothair to his neighbor.
Charitably, I am sure.
I have been thinking of you every day, he continued, for I wanted your advice.
Ah! but that is not a popular thing to give.
But it is preciousat least, yours is to meand I want it now very much.
Father Coleman told me you had got the plans for the cathedral, said Miss Arundel.
And I want to show them to you.
I fear I am only a critic, said Miss Arundel, and I do not admire mere critics. I was very free in my comments to you on several subjects at Vauxe; and I must now say I thought you bore it very kindly.
I was enchanted, said Lothair, and desire nothing but to be ever subject to such remarks. But this affair of the cathedral, it is your own thoughtI would fain hope your own wish, for unless it were your own wish I do not think I ever should be able to accomplish it.
And when the cathedral is built, said Miss Arundel what then?
Do you not remember telling me at Vauxe that all sacred buildings should be respected, for that in the long-run they generally fell to the professors of the true faith?
But when they built St. Peters, they dedicated it to a saint in heaven, said Miss Arundel. To whom is yours to be inscribed?
To a saint in heaven and in earth, said Lothair, blushing; to St. Clare.
But Lady St. Jerome and her guests rose at this moment, and it is impossible to say with precision whether this last remark of Lothair absolutely reached the ear of Miss Arundel. She looked as if it had not. The priests and the other guests dispersed. Lothair accompanied the ladies to the drawing-room; he lingered, and he was meditating if the occasion served to say more.
Lady St. Jerome was writing a note, Mss Arundel was arranging some work, Lothair was affecting an interest in her employment in order that he might be seated by her and ask her questions, when the groom of the chambers entered and inquired whether her ladyship was at home, and being answered in the affirmative, retired, and announced and ushered in the duchess and Lady Corisande.
CHAPTER 19
It seemed that the duchess and Lady St. Jerome were intimate, for they called each other by their Christian names, and kissed each other. The young ladies also were cordial. Her grace greeted Lothair with heartiness; Lady Corisande with some reserve. Lothair thought she looked very radiant and very proud.
It was some time since they had all metnot since the end of the last seasonso there was a great deal to talk about. There had been deaths and births and marriages which required a flying commentall important events; deaths which solved many difficulties, heirs to estates which were not expected, and weddings which surprised everybody.
And have you seen Selina? inquired Lady St. Jerome.
Not yet; except mamma, this is our first visit, replied the duchess.
Ah! that is real friendship. She came down to Vauxe the other day, but I did not think she was looking well. She frets herself too much about her boys; she does not know what to do with them. They will not go into the Church, and they have no fortune for the Guards.
I understood that Lord Plantagenet was to be a civil engineer, said Lady Corisande.
And Lord Albert Victor to have a sheep-walk in Australia, continued Lady St. Jerome.
They say that a lord must not go to the bar, said Miss Arundel. It seems to me very unjust.
Alfred Beaufort went the circuit, said Lady Corisande, but I believe they drove him into Parliament.
You will miss your friend Bertram at Oxford, said the duchess, addressing Lothair.
Indeed, said Lothair, rather confused, for he was himself a defaulter in collegiate attendance. I was just going to write to him to see whether one could not keep half a term.
Oh! nothing will prevent his taking his degree, said the duchess, but I fear there must be some delay. There is a vacancy for our countyMr. Sandstone is dead, and they insist upon returning Bertram. I hope he will be of age before the nomination. The duke is much opposed to it; he wishes him to wait; but in these days it is not so easy for young men to get into Parliament. It is not as it used to be; we cannot choose.
This is an important event, said Lothair to Lady Corisande.
I think it is; nor do I believe Bertram is too young for public life. These are not times to be laggard.
There is no doubt they are very serious times, said Lothair.
I have every confidence in Bertramin his ability and his principles.
The ladies began to talk about the approaching drawing-room and Lady Corisandes presentation, and Lothair thought it right to make his obeisance and withdraw. He met in the hall Father Coleman, who was in fact looking after him, and would have induced him to repair to the fathers room and hold some interesting conversation, but Lothair was not so congenial as usual. He was even abrupt, and the father, who never pressed any thing, assuming that Lothair had some engagement, relinquished with a serene brow, but not without chagrin, what he had deemed might have proved a golden opportunity.