"Ha! Miss Beaufort, a young Apollo?"
"And not in disguise!" replied she in the same manner, just as
Thaddeus had bowed to her; and, with "veiled lids," was taking up a
book from the table: not to read, but literally to have an object to
look on which could not insult him.
"What did Miss Dundas say was his name?" whispered the viscount.
"Constantine, I think."
"Mr. Constantine," said the benevolent Berrington, "will you accept
this chair?"
Thaddeus declined it. But the viscount read in the "proud humility"
of his bow that he had not always waited, a dependent, on the nods of
insolent men and ladies of fashion; and, with a good-humored
compulsion, he added, "pray oblige me for by that means I shall have
an excuse to squeeze into the _Sultane_, which is so 'happy as
to bear the weight of Beaufort!'"
Though Miss Beaufort was almost a stranger to his lordship, having
seen him only once before, with her cousin in Leicestershire, she
smiled at this unexpected gallantry, and in consideration of the
motive, made room for him on the sofa.
Offence was not swifter than kindness in its passage to the heart of
Thaddeus, who, whilst he received the viscount's chair, raised his
face towards him with a look beaming such graciousness and
obligation, that Miss Beaufort turned with a renewed glance of
contempt on the party. The next instant they left the study.
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