n to fear that he
suspected her secret. And so _Natura inventrix_, casting about for a
cure, found and brought her this companion of her own sex from
between the covers of a book.

I set down the fact merely and its share in Dorothea's recovery.

CHAPTER XII

GENERAL ROCHAMBEAU TELLS A STORY;
AND THE TING-TANG RINGS FOR THE LAST TIME

More than a year had passed when, one February morning, as he left the
breakfast table, Endymion handed Dorothea a slip of paper.

"Do you think we can entertain at dinner next Wednesday? If you can
manage it, I wish these invitations written out and despatched before
noon."

"Next Wednesday?" Dorothea's eyebrows went up. Invitations to dine at
Bayfield had always, as we know, been issued just three weeks ahead.

"If it will not inconvenience you," he answered; and his manner added,
as plainly as words, "I beg that you will not press for my reasons."
He was booted already for his ride into Axcester.

Dorothea ran her eye down the list: The Vicomte de Tocqueville, General
Rochambeau. . . . All the prisoners of distinction were included as
well as the chief notables of the neighbourhood, which made it a long
one, even without a full balance of ladies.

She went off to her room at once and penned the letters--twenty-five
in all.

Naturally, this break in the Bayfield custom set speculation going
among the invited; but it is doubtful if Narcissus, any more than
Dorothea, knew the reason of it. And on Wednesday, when the guests
assembled, the only one who might be suspected of sharing Endymion's
secret was (oddly enough) General Rochambeau. The old fellow seemed
ten years younger, and wore an air of sportiveness, almost of raillery,
as he caught his host's eye. The compliments he paid Lady Bateson
across the table were prodigious, and gave that good soul a hazy
sensation of being wafted back to the court of Louis XV, and behaving
brilliantly under the circumstances.

"Really, my dear Mr. Westcote," she protested at length, being a
chartered utterer of indiscretions which (as she delighted to prove)
Endymion would not tolerate in others, but took from her and allowed,
with a magisterial smile, to pass,--"really, I trust you have not
taken off the General's parole, or to-morrow I shall have to lock my
gates for fear of a chaise-and-pair."

"Ah, to-morrow!" the General echoed, turning to Endymion, with a twinkle
of malice in his eye. "But when Mr. Westcote releases us, it w