Sunday night was Lady Capel's great card-night, and the rooms were full
of tables surrounded by powdered and painted beauties intent upon the
game and the gold. The odour of musk was everywhere, and the sound of
the tapping of gold snuff-boxes, and the fluttering of fans, and the
sharp, technical calls of the gamesters, and the hollow laughter of
hollow hearts. There was a hired singing-girl with a lute at one end of
the room, babbling of Cupid and Daphne, and green meadow and larks. But
she was poorly dressed and indifferent looking; and she sang with a
sad, mechanical air, as if her thoughts were far off. Hyde would have
passed her without a glance; but, as he approached, she broke her
love-ditty in two, and began to sing, with a meaning look at him,-"They say there is a happy land,
Where husbands never prove untrue;
Where lovely maids may give their hearts,
And never need the gift to rue;
Where men can make and keep a vow,
And wives are never in despair.
I'm very fond of seeing sights--
Pray tell me, how can I get there?"
The question seemed so directly addressed to Hyde that he hesitated a
moment, and looked at the girl, who then with a mocking smile
continued,-"They say there really is a land,
Where husbands never are untrue,
Where wives are always beautiful,
And the old love is always new.
I've asked the wise to tell me how
A loving woman could get there;
And this is what they say to me,--
'If you that happy land would see,
There's only one way to get there:
Go straight along the crooked lane,
And all around the square.'"
The scornful little song followed him, and conveyed a certain meaning to
his mind. The girl must have taken her cue from the gossip of those who
passed her to and fro. He burned with indignation, not for himself, but
for his sweet, pure Katherine. He was determined that the world should
in the future know that he held her peerless among women. In this
half-aggressive mood he approached Lady Capel. She had been unfortunate
all the evening, and was not amiable. As he stood behind her chair, Lord
Leffham asked,-"What think you, Hyde, of a party at picquet?"
"Oh, indeed, my lord, you are too much for me!"
"I will give you three points." Then, calling a footman, "Here, fellow,
get cards."
Lady Capel flung her own down. "No, no, Leffham. Spare my grandson:
there are bigger fish here. Dick, I am angry at you. I have a mind to
banish you for a month."