the tenants at Merrington about that
time, and she did not like to disappoint them. Quite touching, was it
not?"

"A touch beyond the reach of art," said Mr. Wilton; "almost worthy of
yourself, Lady Montfort."

"And what do you think of all this?" asked Lord Montfort of Nigel
Penruddock, who, in a cassock that swept the ground, had been stalking
about the glittering salons like a prophet who had been ordained in
Mayfair, but who had now seated himself by his host.

"I am thinking of what is beneath all this," replied Nigel. "A great
revivication. Chivalry is the child of the Church; it is the distinctive
feature of Christian Europe. Had it not been for the revival of Church
principles, this glorious pageant would never have occurred. But it is
a pageant only to the uninitiated. There is not a ceremony, a form,
a phrase, a costume, which is not symbolic of a great truth or a high
purpose."

"I do not think Lady Montfort is aware of all this," said her lord.

"Oh yes!" said Nigel. "Lady Montfort is a great woman--a woman who could
inspire crusades and create churches. She might, and she will, I trust,
rank with the Helenas and the Matildas."

Lord Montfort gave a little sound, but so gentle that it was heard
probably but by himself, which in common language would be styled a
whistle--an articulate modulation of the breath which in this instance
expressed a sly sentiment of humorous amazement.

"Well, Mr. Ferrars," said Mr. Neuchatel, with a laughing eye, to that
young gentleman, as he encountered Endymion passing by, "and how are you
getting on? Are we to see you to-morrow in a Milanese suit?"

"I am only a page," said Endymion.

"Well, well, the old Italian saying is, 'A page beats a knight,' at
least with the ladies."

"Do you not think it very absurd," said Endymion, "that the Count of
Ferroll says he shall wear Lady Montfort's colours? Lady Montfort is
only the first lady of the Queen of Beauty, and she can wear no colours
except the Queen's. Do not you think somebody ought to interfere?"

"Hem! The Count of Ferroll is a man who seldom makes a mistake," said
Mr. Neuchatel.

"So everybody says," said Endymion rather testily; "but I do not see
that."

"Now, you are a very young man," said Mr. Neuchatel, "and I hope you
will some day be a statesman. I do not see why you should not, if you
are industrious and stick to your master, for Mr. Sidney Wilton is a man
who will always rise; but, if I were you, I