but to his dismay Lothair recollected that
nearly a fortnight had elapsed since his arrival. Lord St. Aldegonde
also was on the wing; he was obliged to go to Cowes to see a sick
friend, though he considerately left Bertha behind him. The other
son-in-law remained, for he could not tear himself away from his wife.
He was so distractedly fond of Lady Montairy that he would only
smoke cigarettes. Lothair felt it was time to go, and he broke the
circumstance to his friend Bertram.

These two "old fellows," as they mutually described each other, could
not at all agree as to the course to be pursued. Bertram looked upon
Lothair's suggestion as an act of desertion from himself. At their time
of life, the claims of friendship are paramount. And where could Lothair
go to? And what was there to do? Nowhere, and nothing. Whereas, if he
would remain a little longer, as the duke expected and also the duchess,
Bertram would go with him anywhere he liked, and do any thing he chose.
So Lothair remained.

In the evening, seated by Lady Montairy, Lothair observed on her
sister's singing, and said, "I never heard any of our great singers, but
I cannot believe there is a finer voice in existence."

"Corisande's is a fine voice," said Lady Montairy, "but I admire her
expression more than her tone; for there are certainly many finer
voices, and some day you will hear them."

"But I prefer expression," said Lothair very decidedly.

"Ah, yes! doubtless," said Lady Montairy, who was working a purse, "and
that's what we all want, I believe; at least we married daughters,
they say. My brother, Granville St. Aldegonde, says we are all too much
alike, and that Bertha St. Aldegonde would be parallel if she had no
sisters."

"I don't at all agree with Lord St. Aldegonde," said Lothair, with
energy. "I do not think it is possible to have too many relatives like
you and your sisters."

Lady Montairy looked up with a smile, but she did not meet a smiling
countenance. He seemed, what is called an earnest young man, this friend
of her brother Bertram.

At this moment the duke sent swift messengers for all: to come, even
the duchess, to partake in a new game just arrived from Russia, some
miraculous combination of billiard-balls. Some rose directly, some
lingering a moment arranging their work, but all were in motion.
Corisande was at the piano, and disencumbering herself of some music.
Lothair went up to her rather abruptly:

"Your singing,"