The most
_distingue_ persons in town are to be there this evening."
"I fear the opera and assembly will have but a slim attendance," said
Walter Jerrold in his pleasant, sarcastic way.
"Oh, we shall get away in time for the assembly, which, by the by, is
the last of the season," replied Mrs. Jerrold. "Helen, you look
charmingly this morning. I declare you are the happiest couple I know
of in the world."
Cards, scandal, chocolate, and ices, filled up the routine of the
_Matinee_; then the guests rolled away in their carriages to dress for
dinner, or leave cards at the doors of people, who they knew were out.
It is the way of the world.
"I should prefer not to go, Walter," said Helen that evening at tea.
"Nonsense. I have better faith in you, Helen, than to think _one_
evening will put you in peril. Come, don't be a coward. I wish you to
hear this eloquent, half-crazy enthusiast preach; then we can drop into
the opera, or assembly, whichever you wish."
"In my hat and white _pegnoir_--how ridiculous, said Helen, with a
faint smile.
"No; come back and dress, if you choose. It will look ill for us to
stay away when the others expect us and to be frank with you, Helle, I
want to convince the world that my wife is not a _Romanist_."
"Is any one so foolish as to suspect it now, Walter?" she said,
bitterly.
"Of course they do. And they'll be disappointed when they see that you
neither bow down, nor cross yourself.
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