There was a great buzz of talk going on as it became known that the Duke was approaching—­some eager to know if the Duchess would be with him; others laughing at the name, and vowing that Mrs. Morley could never bear to part with her dear Mrs. Freeman even for an hour!

The doors at the end of the room were thrown suddenly open.  The master of the house appeared, leading with great distinction of manner a little knot of guests, who passed through the crowded outer reception room at a slow pace, returning the many salutations of the company with great show of goodwill, disappearing presently behind the curtains which shut off the innermost room where the lady of the house was awaiting them, with some of the more select and high-born guests.

“That is the Duke,” said Lord Claud to Tom, indicating a tall and elegant man, who looked to him hardly old enough for the general of so many victorious battles.  He was singularly handsome, with a languid grace of bearing that seemed strange in a soldier.  He spoke in a peculiarly modulated and refined voice, and plainly possessed the art of saying the right thing to the right person, and that at the right moment.  His silver tongue had done as much good service in keeping the Allies in harmony, as his military genius in forming combinations and defeating the ends of the enemy.

At his side was the Duchess, a fine-looking woman of commanding presence, not beautiful, but with a very elegant figure and remarkably abundant hair, which she wore in a more tasteful way than most of the company.  A few paces behind came another notable figure, that of Marshal Tallard, the French general whom Marlborough had taken prisoner at Blenheim, and whom he had brought with him to England; but whom he treated with every courtesy, and with whom he bad formed something very like a real friendship.

Lord Claud whispered to Tom that Marshal Tallard had been the one French general whose genius was in the least able to cope with that of Marlborough; and to have him in safe keeping in this country was a most excellent thing for the Grand Alliance.

As soon as the distinguished guests had disappeared, the buzz of talk rose louder than before.  Tom asked, in puzzled tones, what all this chatter about Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman meant; and Lord Claud laughed, as he replied: 

“Have you never heard of the whim of the Queen to call herself Mrs. Morley in her letters to the Duchess, who in her turn is Mrs. Freeman?  And very well is she so named, for never was subject more free with sovereign than is Duchess Sarah with good Queen Anne.  Indeed, there be not those lacking who say that such freedom cannot go on for ever.  However fondly the Queen may love the Duchess now, she cannot for ever submit to be the subject of her subject.  Some day there will be a storm, and then it will behove Mrs. Freeman to sing to a different tune!  For the Queen has a will of her own when once it is roused, and can show a stubborn front when she chooses—­as some of her ministers have already found to their discomfiture!”