“Your warning, sir, is quite unnecessary,” said Miss Taverner coldly. “I have no intention of marrying the Duke of Clarence even if he should ask me—an event which I do not at all anticipate.”

The Admiral evidently felt that he had said enough. He begged pardon, and presently took himself off.

“Well, my love,” remarked Mrs. Scattergood, “I should not wish to be severe on a relative of yours, but I must say that I do not think the Admiral quite the thing.”

“I know it,” replied Miss Taverner.

“It is quite plain to me that he does not like to think of Perry with a nursery-full of stout children standing between him and the title. You must forgive me, my dear, but I do not perfectly know how things are left.”

“My uncle would inherit the title if Perry died without a son to succeed him, and also a part—only what is entailed, and it is very little—of the estate,” Judith answered. “It is I who would inherit the bulk of the fortune.”

“I see,” said Mrs. Scattergood thoughtfully. She seemed to be on the point of making some further remark, but changing her mind merely proposed their ordering the carriage and driving to a shop in Bond Street, where she fancied she would be able to match a particularly fine netting cotton.

Miss Taverner, having a book to change at Hookham’s Library, was quite agreeable, and in a short time both ladies set forth in an open barouche, the day (though it was November) being so extremely mild that even Mrs. Scattergood could not fear an inflammation of the lungs, or an injury to the complexion.

They arrived in Bond Street soon after two o’clock and found it as usual at that hour very full of carriages and smart company. Several tilburies and saddle-horses were waiting outside Stephen’s Hotel, and as Miss Taverner’s barouche passed the door of Jackson’s Boxing Saloon she saw her brother going in on Mr. Fitzjohn’s arm. She waved to him, but did not stop, and the carriage drawing up presently outside a haberdasher’s shop she set Mrs. Scattergood down and drove on to the library.

She had just handed in Tales of Fashionable Life, and was glancing through the volumes of one of the new publications when she felt a touch on her sleeve and turned to find her cousin at her elbow.

She gave him her hand, gloved in lemon kid. “How do you do? I believe one is sure of meeting everyone at Hookham’s, soon or late. Tell me, have you read this novel? I have just picked it at random from the shelf. I don’t know who wrote it, but do, my dear cousin, read where I have quite by accident opened the volume!”

He looked over her shoulder. Her finger pointed to a line. While he read she watched him, smiling, to see what effect the words must produce on him.

“I am glad of it. He seems a most gentleman-like man; and I think, Elinor, I may congratulate you on the prospect of a very respectable establishment in life,”

“Me, brother! What do you mean?”

“He likes you. I observed him narrowly, and am convinced of it. What is the amount of his fortune?”

“I believe about two thousand a year.”

“Two thousand a year?”and then working himself up to a pitch of enthusiastic generosity, he added: “Elinor, I wish with all my heart it were twice as much for your sake.”

A laugh assured Miss Taverner that this passage had struck her cousin just as she believed it must. She said, closing the volume: “Surely the writer of that must possess a most lively mind? I am determined to take this book. It seems all to be written about ordinary people, and, do you know, I am quite tired of Sicilians and Italian Counts who behave in such a very odd way. Sense and Sensibility! Well, after Midnight Bells and Horrid Mysteries that has a pleasant ring, don’t you agree?”

“Undoubtedly. I think it has not yet come in my way, but if you report well of it I shall certainly bespeak it. Are you walking? May I be your escort?”

“My carriage is waiting outside. I have to call at Jones’s for Mrs. Scattergood. I wish you may accompany me.”

He was all compliance, and having handed her into the carriage, took his seat beside her, and said with a grave look: “I believe my father has been to call on you this morning.”

She inclined her head. “Yes, my uncle was with us for about an hour.”

“I can guess his errand. I am sorry for it.”

“There is no need. He considers that Perry is too young to be thinking of marriage, and in part I agree with him.”

“Perry’s friends must all feel the truth of that. It is a pity. He has seen very little of the world, and at nineteen, you know, one’s taste is not fixed. My father has never been a believer in early marriages. But it may yet come to nothing, I daresay.”

“I do not think it,” Judith said decidedly. “Perry is young, but he knows his own mind, and once that is made up there is generally no changing it. I believe the attachment to be deep; it is certainly mutual. And, you know, however much I may regret an engagement entered into so soon I could not wish to see it broken.”

He assented. “It would be very bad. We can only wish him happy. I am not acquainted with Miss Fairford. You like her?”

“She is a very amiable, good sort of girl,” responded Judith.

“I am glad. The wedding, I conclude, will not be long put off?”

“I am not perfectly sure. Lord Worth spoke of six months, but Perry hopes to be able to induce him to consent to its taking place sooner. I don’t know how he will succeed.”

“I imagine Lord Worth will be more likely to find the means of postponing it.”

She turned an inquiring look upon him. He shook his head. “We shall see, but I own myself a little worried. I don’t understand Worth’s consenting to this marriage. But it is possible that I misjudge him.”

The barouche drew up outside the haberdasher’s, and Mrs. Scattergood coming out of the shop directly Judith could not pursue the subject further. Her cousin stepped down to help Mrs. Scattergood into the carriage. He declined getting in again; he had business to transact in the neighborhood; they left him on the pavement, and drove slowly on down the street. Coming opposite to Jackson’s again some little press of traffic obliged the coachman to pull his horses in to a standstill, and before they could move on two gentlemen came out of the Saloon, and stood for a moment on the pavement immediately beside the barouche. One was the Earl of Worth; the other Colonel Armstrong, a close friend of the Duke of York, with whom Miss Taverner was only slightly acquainted. Both gentlemen bowed to her; Colonel Armstrong walked away up the street, and Worth stepped forward to the barouche.

“Well, my ward?” he said. “How do you do, cousin?”

“Do you go our way?” inquired Mrs. Scattergood. “May we take you up?”

“To the bottom of the street, if you will,” he answered, getting into the carriage.

Miss Taverner was gazing at a milliner’s window on the opposite side of the road, apparently rapt in admiration of a yellow satin bonnet embossed with orange leopard-spots, and bound with a green figured ribbon, but at Mrs. Scattergood’s next words she turned her head and unwillingly paid attention to what was being said.

“I am excessively glad to have fallen in with you, Julian,” Mrs. Scattergood declared. “I have been wanting to ask you these three days what you were about to let Perry tie himself up in this fashion. Not that I have a word to say against Miss Fairford: I am sure she is perfectly amiable, a delightful girl! But you know he might do much better for himself. How came you to be giving your consent so readily?”

He said lazily: “I must have been in an uncommonly good temper, I suppose. Don’t you like the match?”

“It is respectable, but not brilliant, and I must say, Worth, I think Perry much too young.”

He made no reply. Miss Taverner raised her eyes to his face. “Do you think it wise to let him be married?” she asked.

“I think he is not married yet, Miss Taverner,” replied Worth.

The carriage began to move forward. Judith said: “Now that it has been so publicly announced it must be a settled thing.”

“Oh, by no means,” said Worth. “A dozen things might happen to prevent it.”

“He cannot in honour turn back from an engagement.”

“True, but I might turn him back from it if I thought it proper to do so,” said the Earl.

“If you do not like the engagement why did you permit him to enter into it?” asked Miss Taverner rather sternly.

“Because I had not the smallest desire to see him persuade Miss Fairford into a runaway match,” replied Worth.

She frowned. “I am to understand that you don’t wish to see him married?”

“Not at all. Why should I?” He turned to address the coachman, desiring to be set down at the corner. The carriage turned into Piccadilly, and stopped. He got out, and stood for a moment with his hand on the door. His face softened as he looked at Miss Taverner, but he only said: “Believe me, I have your affairs well in hand. Where do you go from here? Shall I direct your coachman?”

“Oh, we are going to look at the new bridge across the river,” said Mrs. Scattergood. “But he knows. Well, I am glad we met you, and I have no doubt there is a great deal in what you say. You are off to White’s, I suppose? I am sure I do not know what you gentlemen would do if there were no clubs to spend the day in!”

He returned no answer to this observation, but merely bowed and stepped back.

“Well, my love,” said Mrs. Scattergood as the carriage moved on, “you may say what you will, but excepting only Mr. Brummell, there is no one in town who dresses so well as Worth! Such an air of fashion! I believe you may see your face in his boots as well as in your mirror.”

“I have never denied Lord Worth’s ability to be in the mode,” replied Miss Taverner indifferently. “The only thing that surprises me is to see him come out of a boxing saloon.”

“Oh, my dear, I daresay he went only to accompany Colonel Armstrong,” said Mrs. Scattergood excusingly.

“More than likely,” agreed Judith, with a contemptuous smile.

Peregrine, who had entered the saloon as Worth was on the point of leaving, had also been surprised. That his lordship had been indulging in sparring exercise was evident, for he was just coming out of the changing-room, and had paused in the doorway to exchange a few words with Mr. Jackson. He caught sight of Peregrine at the other end of the Saloon, nodded to him, and said: “How does that ward of mine shape, Jackson?”

Jackson glanced over his shoulder. “Sir Peregrine Taverner, my lord? Well, he shows game; always ready to take the lead, you know, but sometimes rather glaringly abroad. Good bottom, but not enough science. Do you care to see him in a round or two?”

“God forbid!” said Worth. “I can well imagine it. Tell me, Jackson, could you lay your hand on a promising young heavyweight who would be glad to earn a little money out of the way—not in the Ring?”

Jackson looked at him rather curiously. “Cribb knows most of the young’uns, my lord. Lads thankful to be fighting for a purse of five guineas—is that it?” Worth nodded. “Any number of them to be found,” Jackson said. “You know that, my lord. But do you stand in need of one?”

“It has just occurred to me that I might,” said the Earl, negligently playing with his gloves. “I’ll see Cribb.” He turned as Colonel Armstrong came out of the changing-room. “Are you ready, Armstrong?”

“I suppose I am,” replied the Colonel, who was looking very hot. “I’ll swear you’ve sweated pounds off me, Jackson. I don’t know how you both contrive to look so cool.”

The ex-champion smiled. “His lordship was taking it very easily today.”

“What, fighting shy?” said the Colonel, with a twinkle.

“No, not shy; just trifling,” said Jackson. “But you should be coming to me more regularly, Colonel. It was bellows to mend with you after three minutes of it, and I don’t like those plunges of yours.”

“Trying to land you a facer, Jackson,” grinned the Colonel.

“You won’t do it like that, sir,” said Jackson, shaking his head. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll go over and set Mr. Fitzjohn to a little singlestick with one of my young men.”

“Oh ay, we’re just off,” said Armstrong. “Are you coming, Worth?”

“Yes, I’m coming,” answered the Earl. He looked at Jackson. “Do what you can with my ward. And, Jackson, by the way—on that other matter, I feel sure I can rely on your discretion.”