At this juncture, Armandine’s mellow bell proclaimed her readiness.

Victor rubbed the back of his head.  Nataly asked him:  ’Dear, is it that man?’

He nodded scantly:  ’Expected, expected.  I think we have our summons from Armandine.  One moment—­poor soul! poor soul!  Lady Carmine—­Sir Abraham Quatley.  Will you lead?  Lady Blachington, I secure you.  One moment.’

He directed Nataly to pair a few of the guests; he hurried down the slope of sward.

Nataly applied to Colney Durance.  ‘Do you know the man?—­is it that man?’

Colney rejoined:  ‘The man’s name is Jarniman.’

Armandine’s bell swung melodiously.  The guests had grouped, thickening for the stream to procession.  Mrs. Blathenoy claimed Fenellan; she requested him to tell her whether he had known Mrs. Victor Radnor many years.  She mused.  ‘You like her?’

‘One likes one’s dearest of friends among women, does one not?’

The lady nodded to his response.  ‘And your brother?’

‘Dartrey is devoted to her.’

‘I am sure,’ said she, ’your brother is a chivalrous gentleman.  I like her too.’  She came to her sentiment through the sentiment of the chivalrous gentleman.  Sinking from it, she remarked that Mr. Radnor was handsome still.  Fenellan commended the subject to her, as one to discourse of when she met Dartrey.  A smell of a trap-hatch, half-open, afflicted and sharpened him.  It was Blathenoy’s breath:  husbands of young wives do these villanies, for the sake of showing their knowledge.  Fenellan forbore to praise Mrs. Victor:  he laid his colours on Dartrey.  The lady gave ear till she reddened.  He meant no harm, meant nothing but good; and he was lighting the most destructive of our lower fires.

Visibly, that man Jarniman was disposed of with ease.  As in the street-theatres of crowing Punch, distance enlisted pantomime to do the effective part of the speeches.  Jarniman’s hat was off, he stood bent, he delivered his message.  He was handed over to Skepsey’s care for the receiving of meat and drink.  Victor returned; he had Lady Blachington’s hand on his arm; he was all hers, and in the heart of his company of guests at the same time.  Eyes that had read him closely for years, were unable to spell a definite signification on his face, below the overflowing happiness of the hospitable man among contented guests.  He had in fact something within to enliven him; and that was the more than suspicion, amounting to an odour of certainty, that Armandine intended one of her grand surprises for her master, and for the hundred and fifty or so to be seated at her tables in the unwarmed house of Lakelands.

CHAPTER XXII

CONCERNS THE INTRUSION OF JARNIMAN

Armandine did her wonders.  There is not in the wide range of the Muses a more responsive instrument than man to his marvellous cook; and if his notes were but as flowing as his pedals are zealous, we should be carried on the tale of the enthusiasm she awakened, away from the rutted highroad, where History now thinks of tightening her girdle for an accelerated pace.