The Quiet Gentleman

The Earl regarded him pensively over the top of his wineglass, but he said nothing. Martin raised his eyes, as though forcing himself to look him boldly in the face, and said: “St. Erth, I — Well — What I mean is — ”

“Yes?” said Gervase encouragingly.

“It’s only — St. Erth, I shouldn’t have done it, of course! I didn’t mean to, only — ”

“Shouldn’t have done what?”

“Last night — Marianne!”

“Oh!”

“The thing was, you see — ”

“You need not tell me,” Gervase interrupted, smiling. “I know very well what the thing was.”

He saw the flicker of fire in the eyes so swiftly meeting his own at these words. He held them in a steady regard, and after a moment they fell, and Martin uttered a self-conscious laugh, and said: “Yes — I suppose! The thing is, ought I, do you think, to say anything to her?”

“On that subject? By no means! Let it go!”

Martin looked relieved. He drained his glass, found the decanter at his elbow, and refilled the glass, saying: “Then you don’t think I should beg her pardon?”

“You would only cause her embarrassment.”

“I daresay you may be right.” Martin sipped his wine reflectively, and set his glass down again. “I wish that gray of yours had not cut his legs!” he said suddenly. “The most curst mischance! Can’t think how he came to do so!”

“Or how I came to be thrown so ignominiously?” suggested the Earl, watching him.

“Oh, there’s nothing in that! Everyone takes a stupid toss or so in his life! But your gray is a capital hunter! I would not have had him scar himself for a fortune!”

At this moment, the Viscount demanded that the decanter should be set in motion, and the conversation became general.

When the gentlemen presently joined the ladies, there was some talk of getting up a game of speculation, but the Dowager, who did not wish to play cards, said that everyone would prefer the indulgence of a little music, and begged Marianne to go to the pianoforte. Marianne looked very much alarmed, and assured her ladyship that her performance was not at all superior. When the Dowager showed no sign of accepting this excuse, she looked imploringly at Miss Morville, who at once responded to the silent appeal, rising from her chair, and saying: “I am sure Lady St. Erth would like to hear you sing, Marianne; and, if you will allow me, I shall be pleased to play for you.”

It was not quite what Marianne desired, but since she had a pretty voice, and knew herself to have been well-taught, it was infinitely preferable to being obliged to struggle through a Haydn sonata. She accompanied her friend to the instrument, and delighted the company with two or three ballads. Not very much persuasion was needed to induce her to join with Lord Ulverston in a duet. Their voices blended admirably; they discovered a similarity of musical taste in one another; and if their combined performance gave little pleasure to one member of their audience, everyone else enjoyed it very much, the Dowager going as far as to beat time with one foot, and to hum several of the refrains.

The party broke up early that evening, the ladies going to bed immediately after prayers. The Earl took his friend off to play billiards, and Martin, to his surprise, went with him. He was so obliging as to mark for them, a kindness which made Ulverston glance rather keenly at him, and say, later, to the Earl: “Your engaging young brother remorseful, eh?”

Gervase smiled. “I told you he was not far removed from a schoolboy. We may go on more comfortably now.”

“Shouldn’t be surprised if it was all a take-in,” replied the sceptical Viscount.