WYLDER'S HAJVD.
217
temper by no means pleasant; and it needed a good deal
of that artificial command of countenance which he culti-
vated, to prevent his betraying something of the latter,
when Sir Harry Bracton, talking loud and volubly as usual,
swaggered into the supper-room, with Dorcas Brandon on
his arm.
CHAPTER XXXVH.
THE SUPPER-ROOM.
It was rather trying, in this state of things, to receive
from the triumphant baronet, with only a parenthetical
"Dear Lake, I beg your pardon," a rough knock on the
elbow of the hand that held his glass, and to be then sum-
marily hustled out of his place. It was no mitigation of
the rudeness, in Lake's estimate, that Sir Harry was so
engrossed and elated as to seem hardly conscious of any
existence but Miss Brandon's and his own.
Lake was subject to transient paroxysms of exaspera-
tion; but even in these he knew how to command himself
pretty well before witnesses. His smile grew a little
stranger, and his face a degree whiter, as he set down his
glass, quietly glided a little away, and brushed off with
his handkerchief the aspersion which his coat had suffer-
ed.
In a few minutes more Miss Brandon had left the
supper-room leaning upon Lord Chelford's arm; and Sir
Harry remained, with a glass of pink champagne, such aa
young fellows drink with a faith and comfort so wonderful,
at balls and fetes charnpetres.
10