In this unsettled state, Tancred found himself one evening at Deloraine
House. It was not a ball, it was only a dance, brilliant and select;
but, all the same, it seemed to Tancred that the rooms could not be
much more crowded. The name of the Marquess of Montacute, as it was sent
along by the servants, attracted attention. Tancred had scarcely entered
the world, his appearance had made a sensation, everybody talked of him,
many had not yet seen him.
'Oh! that is Lord Montacute,' said a great lady, looking through her
glass; 'very distinguished!'
'I tell you what,' whispered Mr. Ormsby to Lord Valentine, 'you young
men had better look sharp; Lord Montacute will cut you all out!'
'Oh! he is going to Jerusalem,' said Lord Valentine.
'Jerusalem!' said Mr. Ormsby, shrugging his shoulders. 'What can he find
to do at Jerusalem?'
'What, indeed,' said Lord Milford. 'My brother was there in '39; he got
leave after the bombardment of Acre, and he says there is absolutely no
sport of any kind.'
'There used to be partridges in the time of Jeremiah,' said Mr. Ormsby;
'at least they told us so at the Chapel Royal last Sunday, where,
by-the-bye, I saw Lord Montacute for the first time; and a deuced
good-looking fellow he is,' he added, musingly.
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