Men of intrigue have emissaries every where; they are never above a little familiarity with servants of every description. These are their best friends; for the ones money cannot purchase, may always be bought by affability and kindness, and this without compromising one's self. Dalby seldom was guilty of so unwary an act as this, except in extreme cases. He found out all he wished to know adroitly; even the _purchased_ were unaware they were selling secrets. It was through some channel of this sort he discovered how soon Tremenhere left Uplands, and the same day at dinner he was there.
Lady Lysson did not like the man, but her nephew assured her he was a capital fellow; above all, extremely useful; so she received him, and attributed her personal antipathy to some flaw in her organ for comprehending exactly what a capital fellow should be. Lady Dora and her mother were beyond measure vexed. This former was hourly receiving warnings enough, in an indirect way, to cure her of her false pride, only they had not the effect of doing so; she did not yet see her fault. To make a confidant of this man, neither dreamed of; and they came down to dinner with the pleasant anticipation of hearing a dozen persons wondering about Tremenhere's marriage, and of hearing all particulars discussed and commented upon. They had decided upon braving the storm by quietly disclaiming any acquaintanceship with his wife; and on that very morning Lady Dora, under a better feeling than of late, had been asking her mother to allow her to visit poor Minnie, when they returned to town, but ineffectually. "We are forced to meet the _man_ occasionally," said Lady Ripley, coldly, "but visiting one who has so disgraced her family, is quite another thing!"
Great was their surprise when Dalby bowed most respectfully, but distantly to them, merely inquiring about their health. Still greater was it, when, Lady Lysson speaking with regret of Tremenhere's absence, the politic Dalby alluded to him as scarcely one with whose name he was acquainted! They both mentally thanked him, and dinner passed off delightfully.
Lady Dora was not the affianced bride of Lord Randolph--true, he wished her to be his--so did Lady Lysson--so did Lady Ripley; but three affirmatives in this case, were conquered by one negative. Lady Dora said, when he proposed to her, "We do not know one another sufficiently yet;" and he was quite content to wait. Her beauty, position--all made him desire to make her his wife; but in truth she was not a person to inspire mad love in any one, except indeed, her despotic pride could bend, and the woman be all woman; but as it was he took it very calmly--she would be his some day, he presumed. But his love was not that St. Vitus' genus which makes a man ever restless--hot and cold all over, if another does but look at your love; or, like that deep-seated affection which bound Lady Lysson at sixteen to her "cat's cradle" cousin; and though a young lovely widow at twenty, deaf to every second offer, not seeing the _possibility_ of calling another--husband. Neither of these loves swayed Lord Randolph; it was a connubial and well-disposed affection, which pulls its Templar nightcap well over its ears, and falls asleep, perfectly assured of awaking as soon as ever it shall be called upon to do so.