Mrs. Strike, gazing in her sister’s face, answered slowly, “George?But how will you meet him?” she hurriedly asked.
“I have met him,” rejoined the Countess boldly. “I defy him to know me. I brazen him! You with your hair in my style are equally safe. You see there is no choice. Pooh! contemptible puppy!”
“But I never,”—Caroline was going to say she never could face him. “I will not dine. I will nurse Evan.”
“You have faced him, my dear,” said the Countess, “and you are to change your head-dress simply to throw him off his scent.”
As she spoke the Countess tripped about, nodding her head like a girl. Triumph in the sense of her power over all she came in contact with, rather elated the lady.
Do you see why she worked her sister in this roundabout fashion? She would not tell her George Uploft was in the house till she was sure he intended to stay, for fear of frightening her. When the necessity became apparent, she put it under the pretext of a whim in order to see how far Caroline, whose weak compliance she could count on, and whose reticence concerning the Duke annoyed her, would submit to it to please her sister; and if she rebelled positively, why to be sure it was the Duke she dreaded to shock: and, therefore, the Duke had a peculiar hold on her: and, therefore, the Countess might reckon that she would do more than she pleased to confess to remain with the Duke, and was manageable in that quarter. All this she learnt without asking. I need not add, that Caroline sighingly did her bidding.
“We must all be victims in our turn, Carry,” said the Countess. “Evan’s prospects—it may be, Silva’s restoration—depends upon your hair being dressed plain to-day. Reflect on that!”
Poor Caroline obeyed; but she was capable of reflecting only that her face was unnaturally lean and strange to her.
The sisters tended and arranged one another, taking care to push their mourning a month or two a-head: and the Countess animadverted on the vulgar mind of Lady Jocelyn, who would allow a “gentleman to sit down at a gentlewoman’s table, in full company, in pronounced undress:” and Caroline utterly miserable, would pretend that she wore a mask and kept grimacing as they do who are not accustomed to paint on the cheeks, till the Countess checked her by telling her she should ask her for that before the Duke.
After a visit to Evan, the sisters sailed together into the drawing-room.
“Uniformity is sometimes a gain,” murmured the Countess, as they were parting in the middle of the room. She saw that their fine figures, and profiles, and resemblance in contrast, produced an effect. The Duke wore one of those calmly intent looks by which men show they are aware of change in the heavens they study, and are too devout worshippers to presume to disapprove. Mr. George was standing by Miss Carrington, and he also watched Mrs. Strike. To bewilder him yet more the Countess persisted in fixing her eyes upon his heterodox apparel, and Mr. George became conscious and uneasy. Miss Carrington had to address her question to him twice before he heard. Melville Jocelyn, Sir John Loring, Sir Franks, and Hamilton surrounded the Countess, and told her what they had decided on with regard to the Election during the day; for Melville was warm in his assertion that they would not talk to the Countess five minutes without getting a hint worth having.
“Call to us that man who is habited like a groom,” said the Countess, indicating Mr. George. “I presume he is in his right place up here?”
“Whew—take care, Countess—our best man. He’s good for a dozen,” said Hamilton.
Mr. George was brought over and introduced to the Countess de Saldar.
“So the oldest tory in the county is a fox?” she said, in allusion to the hunt. Never did Caroline Strike admire her sister’s fearful genius more than at that moment.
Mr. George ducked and rolled his hand over his chin, with “ah-um!” and the like, ended by a dry laugh.
“Are you our support, Mr. Uploft?”
“Tory interest, ma-um—my lady.”
“And are you staunch and may be trusted?”
“’Pon my honour, I think I have that reputation.”
“And you would not betray us if we give you any secrets? Say ‘’Pon my honour,’ again. You launch it out so courageously.”
The men laughed, though they could not see what the Countess was driving at. She had for two minutes spoken as she spoke when a girl, and George entirely off his guard and unsuspicious—looked unenlightened. If he knew, there were hints enough for him in her words. If he remained blind, they might pass as air. The appearance of the butler cut short his protestation as to his powers of secresy.
The Countess dismissed him.
“You will be taken into our confidence when we require you.” And she resumed her foreign air in a most elaborate and overwhelming bow.
She was now perfectly satisfied that she was safe from Mr. George, and, as she thoroughly detested the youthful squire, she chose to propagate a laugh at him by saying, with the utmost languor and clearness of voice, as they descended the stairs:
“After all, a very clever fox may be a very dull dog—don’t you think?”
Gentlemen in front of her, and behind, heard it, and at Mr. George’s expense her reputation rose.
Thus the genius of this born general prompted her to adopt the principle in tactics—boldly to strike when you are in the dark as to your enemy’s movements.
CHAPTER XXII.IN WHICH THE DAUGHTERS OF THE GREAT MEL HAVE TO DIGEST HIM AT DINNER.
