All things considered, the Honourable Major was not much in want of consolation, and if he had required it, there were plenty of lovely belles there and elsewhere 'who would gladly be bride,' not 'to young Lochinvar,' but to the future Lord Bayswater. And what of Clare, so calm in aspect and aristocratically serene? Her thoughts were not with the gay yet empty throng that buzzed and glittered around her, but with her soldier-lover, browned and tanned by the fierce sun-glare of India, from whom she had been so long wantonly separated, and was now separated again, yet with the sweet memory of his last passionate kisses on her lip, that looked so proud to others, and who was not now, thank God! as before--facing the toils and terrors of an obscure mountain war in India, but simply self-banished to Germany till time should show what might be before them both. Where was he then? what doing, and with whom? Thinking, doubtless, of her! so thought and pondered Clare, when she could thrust aside the coming marriage of Sir Carnaby, with all its contingent ridicule; but it was in vain that she repelled it, for the fact took full and bitter possession of her, and could not be displaced; and her lip curled scornfully as she saw her father, with his bald head shining in the light like a billiard ball, his dyed moustache, and false teeth, his undoubtedly handsome and aristocratic figure, though thin and shrunken, clad in evening costume of the most perfect fashion, simpering and bending over Evelyn, of whom we shall have more to say anon. None that looked on Clare, and saw the greatness of her beauty, the general sweetness of her smile, her tranquil air, and somewhat languid grace, could have dreamed that irritating or bitter thoughts were flitting through her mind. 'Oh,' thought she, as she fanned herself, 'how vapid it all is, exchanging the same hackneyed commonplaces with dozens in succession.' Yet society compelled her to appear like other people, and she found herself listening to Desmond, who lisped away in his usual fashion of things in general: the debates in the House last night, the envious screen of the ladies' gallery, la crosse at Hurlingham, polo, tent-pegging, and lemon-slicing at Lillie Bridge, the coaching club and the teams, Colonel Rakes' greys, Bayswater's roans, the Scottish Duke of Chatelherault's snow-whites, the matching of wheelers and leaders; of this party and that rout; who were and were not at the Chiswick Garden Fete. One circumstance pleased her. Nothing in the well-bred and impassive manner of Desmond, though he hung over her and tugged his long fair moustache, could have led anyone to suppose that he had actually made her a proposal the other morning, and as to his sister's intended 'fiasco,' for such they both deemed it, the subject was not even hinted at; and now, as he moved on to speak to some one else, a gloved hand was laid on her arm, and Clare found herself beside Evelyn Desmond.