“Uniformity is sometimes a gain,” murmured the Countess, as they were parting in the middle of the room. She saw that their fine figures, and profiles, and resemblance in contrast, produced an effect. The Duke wore one of those calmly intent looks by which men show they are aware of change in the heavens they study, and are too devout worshippers to presume to disapprove. Mr. George was standing by Miss Carrington, and he also watched Mrs. Strike. To bewilder him yet more the Countess persisted in fixing her eyes upon his heterodox apparel, and Mr. George became conscious and uneasy. Miss Carrington had to address her question to him twice before he heard. Melville Jocelyn, Sir John Loring, Sir Franks, and Hamilton surrounded the Countess, and told her what they had decided on with regard to the election during the day; for Melville was warm in his assertion that they would not talk to the Countess five minutes without getting a hint worth having. “Call to us that man who is habited like a groom,” said the Countess, indicating Mr. George. “I presume he is in his right place up here?” “Whew—take care, Countess—our best man. He’s good for a dozen,” said Hamilton. Mr. George was brought over and introduced to the Countess de Saldar. “So the oldest Tory in the county is a fox?” she said, in allusion to the hunt. Never did Caroline Strike admire her sister’s fearful genius more than at that moment. Mr. George ducked and rolled his hand over his chin, with “ah-um!” and the like, ended by a dry laugh. “Are you our supporter, Mr. Uplift?” “Tory interest, ma—um—my lady.” “And are you staunch and may be trusted?” “’Pon my honour, I think I have that reputation.” “And you would not betray us if we give you any secrets? Say ‘’Pon my honour,’ again. You launch it out so courageously.” The men laughed, though they could not see what the Countess was driving at. She had for two minutes spoken as she spoke when a girl, and George—entirely off his guard and unsuspicious—looked unenlightened. If he knew, there were hints enough for him in her words. If he remained blind, they might pass as air. The appearance of the butler cut short his protestation as to his powers of secresy. The Countess dismissed him. “You will be taken into our confidence when we require you.” And she resumed her foreign air in a most elaborate and overwhelming bow. She was now perfectly satisfied that she was safe from Mr. George, and, as she thoroughly detested the youthful squire, she chose to propagate a laugh at him by saying with the utmost languor and clearness of voice, as they descended the stairs: “After all, a very clever fox may be a very dull dog—don’t you think?” Gentlemen in front of her, and behind, heard it, and at Mr. George’s expense her reputation rose. Thus the genius of this born general prompted her to adopt the principle in tactics—boldly to strike when you are in the dark as to your enemy’s movements.