“It is hardly possible that anything so sweet as that should ever be mine; and yet, because I am a man, and because it is so heavenly sweet, I will try.”  That is what men say to themselves, but Lord Rufford had had no opportunity of saying that to himself in regard to Miss Trefoil.  The thing had been sweet, but not heavenly sweet; and he had never for a moment doubted the possibility.  Now at any rate he would make up his mind.  But, instead of doing so, he went to sleep, and when he got up he was ten minutes late, and was forced, as he dressed himself, to think of the Duke’s dinner instead of Arabella Trefoil.

The Duchess before dinner submitted herself and all her troubles at great length to the Duke, but the Duke could give her no substantial comfort.  Of course it had all been wrong.  He supposed that they ought not to have been found walking together in the dark on Sunday afternoon.  The hunting should not have been arranged without sanction; and the return home in the hired carriage had no doubt been highly improper.  But what could he do?  If the marriage came off it would be all well.  If not, this niece must not be invited to Mistletoe again.  As to speaking to Lord Rufford, he did not quite see how he was to set about it.  His own girls had been married in so very different a fashion!  He could imagine nothing so disagreeable as to have to ask a gentleman his intentions.  Parental duty might make it necessary when a daughter had not known how to keep her own position intact; but here there was no parental duty.  If Lord Rufford would speak to him, then indeed there would be no difficulty.  At last he told his wife that, if she could find an opportunity of suggesting to the young Lord that, he might perhaps say a word to the young lady’s uncle without impropriety, if she could do this in a light easy way, so as to run no peril of a scene,—­she might do so.

When the two duchesses and all the other ladies came out into the drawing-room, Arabella was found upon the sofa.  Of course she became the centre of a little interest for a few minutes, and the more so, as her aunt went up to her and made some inquiries.  Had she had any dinner?  Was she less fatigued?  The fact of the improper return home in the post chaise had become generally known, and there were some there who would have turned a very cold shoulder to Arabella had not her aunt noticed her.  Perhaps there were some who had envied her Jack, and Lord Rufford’s admiration, and even the post chaise.  But as long as her aunt countenanced her it was not likely that any one at Mistletoe would be unkind to her.  The Duchess of Omnium did indeed remark to Lady Chiltern that she remembered something of the same kind happening to the same girl soon after her own marriage.  As the Duchess had now been married a great many years this was unkind,—­but it was known that when the Duchess of Omnium did dislike any one, she never scrupled to show it.  “Lord Rufford is about the silliest man of his day,” she said afterwards to the same lady; “but there is one thing which I do not think even he is silly enough to do.”