At that moment the Duke of Torquilstone came in. Oh, such a sad sight! A poor hump-backed man, with a strong face and head, and a soured, suspicious, cynical expression. He would evidently have been very tall, but for his deformity, a hump stands out on his back, almost like Mr. Punch. He can’t be much over forty, but he looks far older, his hair is quite gray. Not a line, or an expression in him reminded me of Lord Robert, I am glad to say. Lady Merrenden introduced us, and Lord Merrenden came in then, too, and we all went down to luncheon. It was a rather small table, so we were all near one another, and could talk. The dining-room is immense. “I always have this little table when we are such a small party,” Lady Merrenden said. “It is more cosy, and one does not feel so isolated.” How I agreed with her. The Duke looked at me searchingly often, with his shrewd little eyes. One could not say if it was with approval, or disapproval. Lord Merrenden talked about politics, and the questions of the day, he has a courteous manner, and all their voices are soft and refined. And nothing could have been more smooth and silent than the service. The luncheon was very simple, and very good, but not half the numbers of rich dishes like at Branches, or Lady Ver’s. There was only one bowl of violets on the table, but the bowl was gold, and a beautiful shape, and the violets nearly as big as pansies. My eyes wandered to the pictures--Gainsborough’s, and Reynolds’, and Romney’s--of stately men and women. “You met my other nephew, Lord Robert, did you not?” Lady Merrenden said, presently. “He told me he had gone to Branches, where I believe you lived.” “Yes,” I said, and oh! it is too humiliating to write, I felt my cheeks get crimson at the mention of Lord Robert’s name. What could she have thought? Can anything be so young ladylike and ridiculous. “He came to the Opera with us the night before last,” I continued. “Mr. Carruthers had a box, and Lady Verningham and I went with them.” Then recollecting how odd this must sound in my deep mourning, I added, “I am so fond of music.” “So is Robert,” she said. “I am sure he must have been pleased to meet a kindred spirit there.” Sweet, charming, kind lady! If she only knew what emotions were really agitating us in that box that night--I fear the actual love of music was the least of them! The Duke, during this conversation, and from the beginning mention of Lord Robert’s name, never took his eyes off my face--it was very disconcerting; his look was clearer now, and it was certainly disapproving. We had coffee upstairs, out of such exquisite Dresden cups, and then Lord Merrenden showed me some miniatures. Finally it happened that the Duke and I were left alone for a minute looking out of a window on to the Mall.