The Black Moth

Diana walked with her to the door.

"'Tis not amusing at all when one has no friends; but last year, when mycousins were with us and papa took a house for the season on the NorthParade, 'twas most enjoyable. I wish you had been there, instead of withthat disagreeable Aunt Jennifer!"

She kissed her relative most affectionately and lighted her across thelanding to her room. Then she returned to her room and shut the door,giving a tired little yawn.

It was at about that moment that his Grace of Andover was ushered intothe already crowded card-room of my Lord Avon's house in CatharinePlace, and was greeted with ribald cries of "Oho, Belmanoir!", and"Where's the lady, Devil?"

He walked coolly forward into the full light of a great pendantchandelier, standing directly beneath it, the diamond order on hisbreast burning and winking like a living thing. The diamonds in hiscravat and on his fingers glittered every time he moved, until he seemedto be carelessly powdered with iridescent gems. As usual, he was clad inblack, but it would have been difficult to find any other dress in theroom more sumptuous or more magnificent than his sable satin with itsheavy silver lacing, and shimmering waistcoat. Silver lace adorned histhroat and fell in deep ruffles over his hands, and in defiance ofFashion, which decreed that black alone should be worn to tie the hair,he displayed long silver ribands, very striking against his unpowderedhead.

He raised his quizzing glass and looked round the room with an air ofsurprised hauteur. Lord Avon, leaning back in his chair at one of thetables, shook a reproving finger at him.

"Belmanoir, Belmanoir, we have seen her and we protest she is toocharming for you!"

"In truth, we think we should be allowed a share in the lady'ththmileth," lisped one from behind him, and his Grace turned to facedainty, effeminate little Viscount Fotheringham, who stood at his elbow,resplendent in salmon-pink satin and primrose velvet, with skirts sofull and stiffly whaleboned that they stood out from his person, andheels so high that instead of walking he could only mince.

Tracy made a low leg.

"Surely shall you have a share in her smiles an she wills it so," hepurred, and a general laugh went up which caused the fop to flush to theears, as he speedily effaced himself.

He had been one of those who had tried to accost Diana, andgossip-loving Will Stapely, with him at the time, had related the storyof his discomfiture to at least half-a-dozen men, who immediately toldit to others, vastly amused at the pertinacious Viscount's rebuff.

"What was it Selwyn said?" drawled Sir Gregory Markham, shuffling cardsat Lord Avon's table.

Davenant looked across at him inquiringly.

"George? Of Belmanoir? When?"

"Oh, at White's one night--I forget--Jack Cholmondely was there--hewould know; and Horry Walpole. 'Twas of Devil and his light o'loves--quite apt, on the whole."

Cholmondely looked up.

"Did I hear my name?"

"Ay. What was it George said of Belmanoir at White's the night Gillymade that absurd bet with Ffolliott?"

"When Gilly--oh, yes, I remember. 'Twas but an old hexameter tag,playing on his name: '_Est bellum bellis bellum bellare puellis_.' Heseemed to think it a fitting motto for a ducal house."

There was another general laugh at this. Markham broke in on it:

"Who is she, Tracy?"

His Grace turned.

"Who is who?" he asked languidly.

Lord Avon burst out laughing.

"Oh, come now, Belmanoir, that won't do! It really will not! Who is she,indeed!"

"Ay, Belmanoir, who is the black-haired beauty, and where did you findher?" cried Tom Wilding, pressing forward with a glass in one hand and abottle of port in the other. "I thought you were captivated by CynthiaEvans?"

Tracy looked bewildered for the moment, and then a light dawned on him.

"Evans! Ah, yes! The saucy widow who lived in Kensington, was it not? Iremember."

"He had forgotten!" cried Avon, and went off into another of the noisylaughs that had more than once caused Mr. Nash to shudder and to closehis august eyes. "You'll be the death of me, Devil! Gad! but you will!"

"Oh, I trust not. Thank you, Wilding." He accepted the glass that Tomoffered, and sipped delicately.