Thus the genius of this born general prompted her to adopt the principle in tactics—­boldly to strike when you are in the dark as to your enemy’s movements.

CHAPTER XXII

IN WHICH THE DAUGHTERS OF THE GREAT MEL HAVE TO DIGEST HIM AT DINNER

You must know, if you would form an estimate of the Countess’s heroic impudence, that a rumour was current in Lymport that the fair and well-developed Louisa Harrington, in her sixteenth year, did advisedly, and with the intention of rendering the term indefinite, entrust her guileless person to Mr. George Uplift’s honourable charge.  The rumour, unflavoured by absolute malignity, was such; and it went on to say, that the sublime Mel, alive to the honour of his family, followed the fugitives with a pistol, and with a horsewhip, that he might chastise the offender according to the degree of his offence.  It was certain that he had not used the pistol:  it was said that he had used the whip.  The details of the interview between Mel and Mr. George were numerous, but at the same time various.  Some declared that he put a pistol to Mr. George’s ear, and under pressure of that persuader got him into the presence of a clergyman, when he turned sulky; and when the pistol was again produced, the ceremony would have been performed, had not the outraged Church cried out for help.  Some vowed that Mr. George had referred all questions implying a difference between himself and Mel to their mutual fists for decision.  At any rate, Mr. George turned up in Fallow field subsequently; the fair Louisa, unhurt and with a quiet mind, in Lymport; and this amount of truth the rumours can be reduced to—­that Louisa and Mr. George had been acquainted.  Rumour and gossip know how to build:  they always have some solid foundation, however small.  Upwards of twelve years had run since Louisa went to the wife of the brewer—­a period quite long enough for Mr. George to forget any one in; and she was altogether a different creature; and, as it was true that Mr. George was a dull one, she was, after the test she had put him to, justified in hoping that Mel’s progeny might pass unchallenged anywhere out of Lymport.  So, with Mr. George facing her at table, the Countess sat down, determined to eat and be happy.

A man with the education and tastes of a young country squire is not likely to know much of the character of women; and of the marvellous power they have of throwing a veil of oblivion between themselves and what they don’t want to remember, few men know much.  Mr. George had thought, when he saw Mrs. Strike leaning to Evan, and heard she was a Harrington, that she was rather like the Lymport family; but the reappearance of Mrs. Strike, the attention of the Duke of Belfield to her, and the splendid tactics of the Countess, which had extinguished every thought in the thought of himself, drove Lymport out of his mind.

There were some dinner guests at the table-people of Fallow field, Beckley, and Bodley.  The Countess had the diplomatist on one side, the Duke on the other.  Caroline was under the charge of Sir Franks.  The Countess, almost revelling in her position opposite Mr. George, was ambitious to lead the conversation, and commenced, smiling at Melville: