# Ethel Churchill/Chapter 82

CHAPTER VI.
THE FÊTE AT SIR ROBERT WALPOLE'S CONTINUED.
Ladye, thy white brow is fair, Beauty's morning light is there; And thine eye is like a star, Dark as those of midnight are: Round thee satin robe is flung; Pearls upon thy neck are hung: Yet thou wearest silk and gem, As thou hadst forgotten them. Lovelier is the ray that lies On thy lip, and in thine eyes.
Nothing more strongly marks the insufficiency of luxuries than the ease with which people grow accustomed to them; they are rather known by their want than by their presence. The word "blasé" has been coined expressly for the use of the upper classes.
Lady Marchmont had acquired much of that languid indifference, the most foreign to ​her temperament, by the want of something really to interest her. She had grown careless to observe, yet even she was quite animated into admiration by the beauty of the garden as she entered. The turf short, but not too short, fresh without being damp, sloped down to the river; sometimes golden green in the sunshine, at others darkly green in the shade. The beds were filled with flowers of every kind, and stands were scattered around of rare and costly plants. Groups of the young and beautiful were mingled among them, and the rich colouring of the period's costume was relieved by the verdant foliage. It was a pretty contrast between nature and art.
"Well," exclaimed Lady Marchmont, breathing the perfume with which a honeysuckle, wound around an old ash, filled the air, "I do confess that I like common flowers better than any. The hothouse plant has no associations."
"And I," interrupted Lord Marchmont, "infinitely prefer exotics: they show that some trouble has been taken on our account. ​But, talking of trouble, I wish, instead of loitering here, you would come and pay your respects to Sir Robert."
Sir Robert stood to receive his guests on the portico, which gave a pleasant shelter and coolness to the front of the house. A large hall, filled with odoriferous shrubs, opened behind, and gave a fine view of the river and the opposite bank. Sir Robert was now at the very summit of worldly prosperity. He stood fast in the king's favour; and what, under the rose, was of far more consequence, in the queen's. There was peace abroad, and a ministerial majority in the house at home. In short, the old Scotch secretary, Johnstone, might well put the question to his master, which he had asked that very morning,—"O, sir, what have you done to God Almighty, to make him so much your friend?"
Henrietta could not help shivering at the air of solemn submission that Lord Marchmont assumed as he ascended the steps of the terrace. In anybody else she would have smiled; but the absurdity of your husband ​comes too close for laughter, it may reflect a little on yourself—at all events on your taste for choosing him.
"Ah, my fair petitioners," said Sir Robert, with great good humour, as they approached; "I see that you are resolved on being revenged by looking too killing. Lord Marchmont, how do you justify to your conscience having married such universal destruction?" Lord Marchmont began a long speech, of which honour, and conviction, and his country's good, were the only words audible; for a fresh party distracted Sir Robert's attention, and Lord Norbourne came to the rescue, and, offering Lady Marchmont his arm, proposed a walk through the grounds. Now this was an agreeable arrangement to all. Miss Churchill cared little who her companion was; and Lord Marchmont's small vanity was flattered by being an escort to a beauty, who, moreover, was a silent, if not an attentive listener; while his wife, besides preferring any company to that of her husband, really liked Lord Norbourne. The last two, however, had each a little motive ​of their own. Lord Norbourne wished to stay with the party till his nephew arrived, fully intending then to monopolise Lord Marchmont, and thus to leave Ethel to Courtenaye. Lady Marchmont wished to have a nearer view of a singularly handsome young man, who seemed perfectly lost in the admiration she inspired. His appearance was very distinguished, and yet she did not know him: he must be new to society, to give way to any feeling so openly and so naively. The crowd had carried him forcibly with them; and Henrietta found that she had a sudden curiosity to inspect a gum cistus which was blowing at the end of the walk. The result of her inspection was not quite satisfactory, for the stranger had disappeared. But the next crowded walk turned out better: again she beheld those dark and eloquent eyes fixed upon herself, as if unconscious of any thing else in the world. A knot of acquaintances shut him out from sight, and Henrietta had never before thought it so tiresome to listen to news and flattery. Lord Norbourne was the next person detained; but ​his companion found the delay more agreeable, though, perhaps, to the full as dangerous as delays proverbially are.
"Do not," exclaimed a voice, whose deep melody was remarkable, "ask me about Versailles, every thing was tiresome there, even the love-making; but I remember nothing about it. I can think only of that divine face."
What instinct told Lady Marchmont that the speaker meant her own? Some reply was made, and the voice continued:
"My whole existence is passed into my eyes; and here I am wasting my time in talking to you, when I might be looking at her."
The laurel branches were put aside, and the handsome stranger stepped from the shade. His eyes met those of Lady Marchmont, who felt herself colour, and then, angry at having done so, began talking hastily to the first person near. She talked without waiting for an answer, startling the elderly gentleman she addressed by the suddenness of her questions; and then half affronting him by not listening to ​above one quarter of his reply. But she was the fashion, and the first privilege of fashion is impertinence. Her companion, on second thoughts, only felt flattered by her speaking to him at all. When her party next moved, half unconsciously she looked towards the laurel, but the place was vacant.