Prince Fortunatus | Page 2

of richly flowered white satin, and with a
portentous head-gear of powdered hair and brilliants and strings of
pearls--was brought forward by a handsome young gentleman who
wore a tied wig, a laced coat and ruffles, satin knee-breeches, shining
silken stockings, and silver-buckled shoes.
"Lady Adela," said he, "let me introduce you to Miss Burgoyne. Miss
Burgoyne has been kind enough to say she will take you into her room
for a little while, until I get off my war-paint. I sha'n't keep you more
than a few minutes."
"It is very good of you," said the tall young matron in the crimson coat
to this gorgeous little white bride, whose lips were brilliant with
cherry-paste, and whose bright and frank eyes were surrounded by such
a mighty mass of make-up.
"Not at all," she answered, pleasantly enough, and therewith she led the
way down some steps into a long, white-tiled corridor, from which
branched the various dressing-rooms. "I'm afraid I can't give you any
tea now; but there's some lemonade, of my own making--it has become
very popular in the theatre--you would hardly believe the number of
callers I have of an evening."
By this time Lionel Moore, who was responsible for these strangers
being in the theatre, had gone quickly off to his own dressing-room to
change his attire, so that when the two ladies reached a certain
half-open door where the prima-donna's maid was waiting for her, Lord
Rockminster naturally hung back and would have remained without.
Miss Burgoyne instantly turned to him.
"Oh, but you may come in too!" she said, with great complaisance.
Somewhat timorously he followed these two into a prettily furnished
little sitting-room, where he was bidden to take a seat and regale
himself with lemonade, if he was so minded; and then Miss Burgoyne

drew aside the curtain of an inner apartment, and said to her other
guest:
"You may come in here, if you like. Mr. Moore said you wished to
know about stage make-up and that kind of thing--I will show you all
the dreadful secrets--Jane!" Thereupon these three disappeared behind
the curtain, and Lord Rockminster was left alone.
But Lord Rockminster liked being left alone. He was a great thinker,
who rarely revealed his thoughts, but who was quite happy in
possessing them. He could sit for an hour at a club-window, calmly
gazing out into the street, and be perfectly content. It is true that the
pale tobacco-tinge that overspread the young man's fair complexion
seemed to speak of an out-of-door life; but he had long ago
emancipated himself from the tyranny of field-sports. That thraldom
had begun early with him, as with most of his class. He had hardly been
out of his Eton jacket when gillies and water-bailiffs got hold of him,
and made him thrash salmon-pools with a seventeen-foot rod until his
back was breaking; and then keepers and foresters had taken possession
of him, and compelled him to crawl for miles up wet gullies and across
peat-hags, and then put a rifle in his hand, expecting him to hit a
bewildering object on the other side of a corrie when, as a matter of fact,
his heart was like to burst with excitement and fear. But the young man
had some strength of character. He rebelled; he refused to be driven
like a slave any longer; he struck for freedom and won it. There was
still much travelling to be encountered; but when he had got that over,
when he had seen everything and done everything, and there was
nothing more to do or to see, then he became master of himself and
conducted himself accordingly. Contemplation, accompanied by a
cigarette, was now his chief good. What his meditations were no one
knew, but they sufficed unto himself. He had attained Nirvana. He
lived in a region of perpetual thought.
But there was one active quality that Lord Rockminster certainly did
possess: he was a most devoted brother, as all the town knew. He was
never tired of going about with his three beautiful sisters, or with any
one of them; he would fetch and carry for them with the most amiable

assiduity; "Rock" they called him, as if he were a retriever. Then the
fact that they followed very different pursuits made all the greater
demand on his consideration. His youngest sister, Lady Rosamund
Bourne, painted indefatigably in both water and oils, and had more than
once exhibited in Suffolk Street; Lady Sybil devoted herself to music,
and was a well-known figure at charitable concerts; while the eldest
sister, Lady Adela, considered literature and the drama as more
particularly under her protection, nor had she ceased to interest herself
in these graceful arts when she married Sir Hugh Cunyngham, of the
Braes, that famous breeder