Mr. Lyle seated himself by the Duchess, and encouraged by her amenity, and
speaking in whispers, became animated and agreeable, occasionally patting
the lap-dog. Coningsby stood by the singers, or talked with them when the
music had ceased: and Henry Sydney looked over a volume of Strutt's
_Sports and Pastimes_, occasionally, without taking his eyes off the
volume, calling the attention of his friends to his discoveries.

Mr. Lyle rose to depart, for he had some miles to return; he came forward
with some hesitation, to hope that Coningsby would visit his bloodhounds,
which Lord Henry had told him Coningsby had expressed a wish to do. Lady
Everingham remarked that she had not been at St. Genevieve since she was a
girl, and it appeared Lady Theresa had never visited it. Lady Everingham
proposed that they should all ride over on the morrow, and she appealed to
her husband for his approbation, instantly given, for though she loved
admiration, and he apparently was an iceberg, they were really devoted to
each other. Then there was a consultation as to their arrangements. The
Duchess would drive over in her pony chair with Theresa. The Duke, as
usual, had affairs that would occupy him. The rest were to ride. It was a
happy suggestion, all anticipated pleasure; and the evening terminated
with the prospect of what Lady Everingham called an adventure.

The ladies themselves soon withdrew; the gentlemen lingered for a while;
the Duke took up his candle, and bid his guests good night; Lord
Everingham drank a glass of Seltzer water, nodded, and vanished. Lord
Henry and his friend sat up talking over the past. They were too young to
call them old times; and yet what a life seemed to have elapsed since they
had quitted Eton, dear old Eton! Their boyish feelings, and still latent
boyish character, developed with their reminiscences.