Cashel Byron's Profession

"So do I," said Lydia; "but one can hardly call others to account

for one's own subjective ideas."

Lydia went away to another part of the room without waiting for a

reply. Meanwhile, Cashel stood friendless in the middle of the room,

stared at by most of his neighbors, and spoken to by none. Women

looked at him coldly lest it should be suspected that they were

admiring him; and men regarded him stiffly according to the national

custom. Since his recognition of Lydia, his self-confidence had

given place to a misgiving that he had been making a fool of

himself. He began to feel lonely and abashed; and but for his

professional habit of maintaining a cheerful countenance under

adverse circumstances, he would have hid himself in the darkest

corner of the room. He was getting sullen, and seeking consolation

in thoughts of how terribly he could handle all these

distantly-mannered, black-coated gentlemen if he chose, when Lord

Worthington came up to him.

"I had no idea you were such an orator, Byron," he said. "You can go

into the Church when you cut the other trade. Eh?"

"I wasn't brought up to the other trade," said Cashel; "and I know

how to talk to ladies and gentlemen as well as to what you'd suppose

to be my own sort. Don't you be anxious about me, my lord. I know

how to make myself at home."

"Of course, of course," said Lord Worthington, soothingly. "Every

one can see by your manners that you are a gentleman; they recognize

that even in the ring. Otherwise--I know you will excuse my saying

so--I daren't have brought you here."

Cashel shook his head, but was pleased. He thought he hated

flattery; had Lord Worthington told him that he was the best boxer

in England--which he probably was--he would have despised him. But

he wished to believe the false compliment to his manners, and was

therefore perfectly convinced of its sincerity. Lord Worthington

perceived this, and retired, pleased with his own tact, in search of

Mrs. Hoskyn, to claim her promise of an introduction to Madame

Szczymplica, which Mrs. Hoskyn had, by way of punishing him for

Cashel's misdemeanor, privately determined not to redeem.

Cashel began to think he had better go. Lydia was surrounded by men

who were speaking to her in German. He felt his own inability to

talk learnedly even in English; and he had, besides, a conviction

that she was angry with him for upsetting her cousin, who was

gravely conversing with Miss Goff. Suddenly a horrible noise caused

a general start and pause. Mr. Jack, the eminent composer, had

opened the piano-forte, and was illustrating some points in a

musical composition under discussion by making discordant sounds

with his voice, accompanied by a few chords. Cashel laughed aloud in

derision as he made his way towards the door through the crowd,

which was now pressing round the pianoforte at which Madame

Szczymplica had just come to the assistance of Jack. Near the door,

and in a corner remote from the instrument, he came upon Lydia and a

middle-aged gentleman, evidently neither a professor nor an artist.