ion of Ireland. It was an
old story, and with very few variations to enliven it.

How was it that, with all his Irish intelligence well arranged in his
mind--the agrarian crime, the ineffective police, the timid juries,
the insolence of the popular press, and the arrogant demands of the
priesthood--how was it that, ready to state all these obstacles to right
government, and prepared to show that it was only by 'out-jockeying' the
parties, he could hope to win in Ireland still, that Greek girl, and what
he called her perfidy, would occupy a most disproportionate share of his
thoughts, and a larger place in his heart also? The simple truth is, that
though up to this Walpole found immense pleasure in his flirtation with
Nina Kostalergi, yet his feeling for her now was nearer love than anything
he had experienced before. The bare suspicion that a woman could jilt him,
or the possible thought that a rival could be found to supplant him, gave,
by the very pain it occasioned, such an interest to the episode, that he
could scarcely think of anything else. That the most effectual way to deal
with the Greek was to renew his old relations with his cousin Lady Maude
was clear enough. 'At least I shall seem to be the traitor,' thought he,
'and she shall not glory in the thought of having deceived _me_.' While he
was still revolving these thoughts, he arrived at the castle, and learned
as he crossed the door that his lordship was impatient to see him.

Lord Danesbury had never been a fluent speaker in public, while in private
life a natural indolence of disposition, improved, so to say, by an Eastern
life, had made him so sparing of his words, that at times when he was
ill or indisposed he could never be said to converse at all, and his
talk consisted of very short sentences strung loosely together, and not
unfrequently so ill-connected as to show that an unexpressed thought very
often intervened between the uttered fragments. Except to men who, like
Walpole, knew him intimately, he was all but unintelligible. The private
secretary, however, understood how to fill up the blanks in any discourse,
and so follow out indications which, to less practised eyes, left no
footmarks behind them.

His Excellency, slowly recovering from a sharp attack of gout, was propped
by pillows, and smoking a long Turkish pipe, as Cecil entered the room and
saluted him. 'Come at last,' was his lordship's greeting. 'Ought to have
been here weeks ago. Read t