The conversation was changed; and at noon Mr. Merton, who had heard of Cleveland's arrival, called at Burleigh to renew an old acquaintance. He invited them to pass the evening at the rectory; and Cleveland, hearing that whist was a regular amusement, accepted the invitation for his host and himself. But when the evening came, Maltravers pleaded indisposition, and Cleveland was obliged to go alone. When the old gentleman returned about midnight, he found Maltravers awaiting him in the library; and Cleveland, having won fourteen points, was in a very gay, conversable humour. "You perverse hermit!" said he, "talk of solitude, indeed, with so pleasant a family a hundred yards distant! You deserve to be solitary,--I have no patience with you. They complain bitterly of your desertion, and say you were, at first, the _enfant de la maison_." "So you like the Mertons? The clergyman is sensible, but commonplace." "A very agreeable man, despite your cynical definition, and plays a very fair rubber. But Vargrave is a first-rate player." "Vargrave is there still?" "Yes, he breakfasts with us to-morrow,--he invited himself." "Humph!" "He played one rubber; the rest of the evening he devoted himself to the prettiest girl I ever saw,--Miss Cameron. What a sweet face! so modest, yet so intelligent! I talked with her a good deal during the deals in which I cut out. I almost lost my heart to her." "So Lord Vargrave devoted himself to Miss Cameron?" "To be sure,--you know they are to be married soon. Merton told me so. She is very rich. He is the luckiest fellow imaginable, that Vargrave! But he is much too old for her: she seems to think so too. I can't explain why I think it; but by her pretty reserved manner I saw that she tried to keep the gay minister at a distance: but it would not do. Now, if you were ten years younger, or Miss Cameron ten years older, you might have had some chance of cutting out your old friend." "So you think I also am too old for a lover?" "For a lover of a girl of seventeen, certainly. You seem touchy on the score of age, Ernest." "Not I;" and Maltravers laughed. "No? There was a young gentleman present, who, I think, Vargrave might really find a dangerous rival,--a Colonel Legard,--one of the handsomest men I ever saw in my life; just the style to turn a romantic young lady's head; a mixture of the wild and the thoroughbred; black curls, superb eyes, and the softest manners in the world. But, to be sure, he has lived all his life in the best society. Not so his friend, Lord Doltimore, who has a little too much of the green-room lounge and French _cafe_ manner for my taste." "Doltimore, Legard, names new to me; I never met them at the rectory."