"
"Dear me," said Lady Esmondet an hour later, as they, in travelling
gear, awaited the carnage to take them to the Southern station, "how
time drags, I wish we were off."
"In our eagerness, we have dressed too soon, god-mother; but still,
waiting is insufferable. Poor uncle! I wonder what people are at the
Hall? what a scene is on the _tapis_! and what a bore the _expose_ of
truth is and will be to poor Lion! But, thank heaven, here is the
carriage."
At the station they meet Mr. Clayton, who has run up to town on
business. He will be with them to the next station, when he takes a
branch line to the Lord Elton's, where his wife is; later in the day
they run down to Haughton Hall for the ball.
"You will see no end of changes at the old place, Miss Vernon; I would
give something to see your face as you make your _entree_. I should,
in that case, see as many changes as yourself. At the revels each
evening, variety holds full sway."
"_Tres bien_," she answered carelessly (for she will not lay her heart
bare), "some have it that 'variety is the spice of life;' if so, as
you and I care nought for a mere existence, we must swallow the spice
and smile on the caterer.
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