And yet, when he had spoken unusually well, or with remarkable epigrammatic point, she felt that his eye sought the expression of her countenance first of all, if but for an instant; and that, in the family intercourse which constantly threw them together, her opinion was the one to which he listened with a deference,—­the more complete, because it was reluctantly paid, and concealed as much as possible.

CHAPTER XLVIII

‘NE’ER TO BE FOUND AGAIN’

’My own, my father’s friend! 
I cannot part with thee! 
I ne’er have shown, thou ne’er hast known,
How dear thou art to me.’ 
ANON.

The elements of the dinner-parties which Mrs. Lennox gave, were these; her friends contributed the beauty, Captain Lennox the easy knowledge of the subjects of the day; and Mr. Henry Lennox and the sprinkling of rising men who were received as his friends, brought the wit, the cleverness, the keen and extensive knowledge of which they knew well enough how to avail themselves without seeming pedantic, or burdening the rapid flow of conversation.

These dinners were delightful; but even here Margaret’s dissatisfaction found her out.  Every talent, every feeling, every acquirement; nay, even every tendency towards virtue was used up as materials for fireworks; the hidden, sacred fire, exhausted itself in sparkle and crackle.  They talked about art in a merely sensuous way, dwelling on outside effects, instead of allowing themselves to learn what it has to teach.  They lashed themselves up into an enthusiasm about high subjects in company, and never thought about them when they were alone; they squandered their capabilities of appreciation into a mere flow of appropriate words.  One day, after the gentlemen had come up into the drawing-room, Mr. Lennox drew near to Margaret, and addressed her in almost the first voluntary words he had spoken to her since she had returned to live in Harley Street.

‘You did not look pleased at what Shirley was saying at dinner.’

‘Didn’t I?  My face must be very expressive,’ replied Margaret.

‘It always was.  It has not lost the trick of being eloquent.’

‘I did not like,’ said Margaret, hastily, ’his way of advocating what he knew to be wrong—­so glaringly wrong—­even in jest.’

’But it was very clever.  How every word told!  Do you remember the happy epithets?’

‘Yes.’

’And despise them, you would like to add.  Pray don’t scruple, though he is my friend.’

‘There! that is the exact tone in you, that—­’ she stopped short.

He listened for a moment to see if she would finish her sentence; but she only reddened, and turned away; before she did so, however, she heard him say, in a very low, clear voice,—­

’If my tones, or modes of thought, are what you dislike, will you do me the justice to tell me so, and so give me the chance of learning to please you?’