Arthur felt that she was watching him, and was seeking for a reply, when fortunately Linda came forward, almost under the box, and told in a long aria, with many trills and quavers, with what scorn she repelled the marquis’s advances; the marquis, in the meantime, waiting discreetly at the back of the stage until she had had her _encore_ and had flung madly out of his ancestral mansion. This being the musical moment of the evening, all paid rapt attention; and when the last _roulade_ was over Mrs. Gower rose and they all proceeded to help with opera cloaks and shawls. “Mr. Holyoke, you must come and dine with me--are you engaged--let me see--a week from Friday?” “You are very kind,” said Arthur. “No, I think not.” “Then I shall expect you--at half-past seven, mind,”--and our hero had the felicity of walking with Mrs. Gower to her carriage, the others coming after them, with the two young ladies. The carriage-door closed with a snap, leaving Arthur with Wemyss and the other man, whom he did not know. Wemyss seemed to feel that their acquaintance had come to an end; so there was nothing left for Arthur but to return to Charlie Townley. “What the deuce is Mrs. Lucie up to now?” thought he, when Arthur had recounted to him his adventures; but he said nothing; and Arthur was left for the last act to give his entire attention to the stage. Virtue triumphed, and Vice (who, as represented in the person of the lively marquis, seemed to be a pretty good sort of fellow after all--an amiable rascal, the kind of chap of whom you would feel inclined to ask, What would he like to drink?) was duly forgiven; and he showered his diamonds as wedding-gifts upon the bride. So that Linda, thrice fortunate Linda, not only followed the paths of virtue, but got her lover and the diamonds into the bargain; and with this moral and a Welsh rarebit Arthur and his friend sought home and pleasant dreams. CHAPTER IX. ARTHUR GETS ON IN THE WORLD. There should never be more than six at a dinner, unless there are fourteen. You can have your dinner either a parlor comedy or a spectacular play: but you must choose which you will have. Mrs. Gower was well aware of this; and hers consisted of a leading lady, a first young lady, a _soubrette_, a virtuous hero, a heavy villain, and a lover. With these ingredients, you may have a very pleasant dinner; but you must be a sufficiently skilful observer of humanity to detect the _rôle_. For people say that there are not such _rôles_ any more, and that we are all indifferent and good-natured, and none of us heavy villains.