shoot the pheasants. It will be a rest for us
after this."

"It will be dull work after the enchantments of to-day," said the
Irishman.

Captain Winstanley rode homewards a few paces in the rear of the other
two, smiling to himself grimly, and humming a little song of Heine's:

"Es ist eine alte Geschichte,
Doch bleibt sie immer neu."

CHAPTER XI.

Rorie objects to Duets.

Mrs. Winstanley's little dinner went off smoothly and pleasantly, as
all such entertainments had done under the new _regime_. The Captain
knew how to select his guests, as well as he knew how to compose a
_menu_. People felt pleased with themselves and with their neighbours
at his table. There was nothing heavy in the dinner or in the
conversation; there were no long sittings over old port or particular
claret. The wines were of the first quality; but there was no fuss made
about them. Colonel Carteret remembered how he and the Squire had sat
prosing over their port or Chateau Lafitte, and felt as if he were
living in a new world--a world in which full-blooded friendship and
boisterous hospitality were out of fashion. People whose talk had
hitherto been intensely local--confined, for the most part to petty
sessions, commoners' rights, hunting, and the parish church and
schools--found themselves discussing the widest range of topics, from
the prospect of a European war--that European war which has been
impending more or less distinctly for the last twenty years--to the
latest social scandal in the upper currents of London society. Captain
and Mrs. Winstanley's country friends, inspired by one or two clever
young men just imported from the London clubs, were surprised to
discover how well they were able to criticise the latest productions in
literature, art, and the drama; the newest results of scientific
investigation; or the last record of African or Central Asian
exploration. It was quite delightful to quiet country people, who went
to London on an average once in three years, to find themselves talking
so easily about the last famous picture, the latest action for libel in
artistic circles, or the promised adaptation of Sardou's last comedy at
a West End theatre, just as glibly as if they knew all about art, and
had read every play of Sardou's.

Roderick Vawdrey enjoyed himself wonderfully at this particular
dinner-party, so long as the dinner lasted; for Captain Winstanley, by
an oversight which made him inwardly savage all dinner