Chapter 6

Next evening, Lydia and Alice reached Mrs. Hoskyn's house in Campden
Hill Road a few minutes before ten o'clock. They found Lord
Worthington in the front garden, smoking and chatting with Mr.
Hoskyn. He threw away his cigar and returned to the house with the
two ladies, who observed that he was somewhat flushed with wine.
They went into a parlor to take off their wraps, leaving him at the
foot of the stairs. Presently they heard some one come down and
address him excitedly thus,

"Worthington. Worthington. He has begun making a speech before the
whole room. He got up the moment old Abendgasse sat down. Why the
deuce did you give him that glass of champagne?"

"Sh-sh-sh! You don't say so! Come with me; and let us try to get him
away quietly."

"Did you hear that?" said Alice. "Something must have happened."

"I hope so," said Lydia. "Ordinarily, the fault in these receptions
is that nothing happens. Do not announce us, if you please," she
added to the servant, as they ascended the stairs. "Since we have
come late, let us spare the feelings of Herr Abendgasse by going in
as quietly as possible."

They had no difficulty in entering unnoticed, for Mrs. Hoskyn
considered obscurity beautiful; and her rooms were but dimly lighted
by two curious lanterns of pink glass, within which were vaporous
flames. In the middle of the larger apartment was a small table
covered with garnet-colored plush, with a reading-desk upon it, and
two candles in silver candlesticks, the light of which, being
brighter than the lanterns, cast strong double shadows from a group
of standing figures about the table. The surrounding space was
crowded with chairs, occupied chiefly by ladies. Behind them, along
the wall, stood a row of men, among whom was Lucian Webber. All were
staring at Cashel Byron, who was making a speech to some bearded and
spectacled gentlemen at the table. Lydia, who had never before seen
him either in evening dress or quite at his ease, was astonished at
his bearing. His eyes were sparkling, his confidence overbore the
company, and his rough voice created the silence it broke. He was in
high good-humor, and marked his periods by the swing of his extended
left arm, while he held his right hand close to his body and
occasionally pointed his remarks by slyly wagging his forefinger.

"--executive power," he was saying as Lydia entered. "That's a very
good expression, gentlemen, and one that I can tell you a lot about.
We have been told that if we want to civilize our neighbors we must
do it mainly by the example of our own lives, by each becoming a
living illustration of the highest culture we know. But what I ask