d all my inquiries have failed to find it out."

She looked searchingly at Isabel as she spoke. The mask of sympathy on
her face was admirably worn. Nobody who possessed only a superficial
acquaintance with Mrs. Drumblade's character would have suspected how
thoroughly she was enjoying in secret the position of embarrassment in
which her news had placed her brother. Instinctively doubting whether
Mrs. Drumblade's friendly behavior was quite as sincere as it appeared
to be, Isabel answered that she was a stranger to Lady Rotherfield, and
was therefore quite at a loss to explain the cause of her ladyship's
absence. As she spoke, the guests began to arrive in quick succession,
and the subject was dropped as a matter of course.

It was not a merry party. Hardyman's approaching marriage had been made
the topic of much malicious gossip, and Isabel's character had, as usual
in such cases, become the object of all the false reports that
scandal could invent. Lady Rotherfield's absence confirmed the general
conviction that Hardyman was disgracing himself. The men were all
more or less uneasy. The women resented the discovery that Isabel
was--personally speaking, at least--beyond the reach of hostile
criticism. Her beauty was viewed as a downright offense; her refined and
modest manners were set down as perfect acting; "really disgusting,
my dear, in so young a girl." General Drumblade, a large and mouldy
veteran, in a state of chronic astonishment (after his own matrimonial
experience) at Hardyman's folly in marrying at all, diffused a wide
circle of gloom, wherever he went and whatever he did. His accomplished
wife, forcing her high spirits on everybody's attention with a sort of
kittenish playfulness, intensified the depressing effect of the general
dullness by all the force of the strongest contrast. After waiting half
an hour for his mother, and waiting in vain, Hardyman led the way to the
tent in despair. "The sooner I fill their stomachs and get rid of them,"
he thought savagely, "the better I shall be pleased!"

The luncheon was attacked by the company with a certain silent ferocity,
which the waiters noticed as remarkable, even in their large experience.
The men drank deeply, but with wonderfully little effect in raising
their spirits; the women, with the exception of amiable Mrs. Drumblade,
kept Isabel deliberately out of the conversation that went on among
them. General Drumblade, sitting next to her in one of the pla