end as you!'

'To be sure you are. Take some more coffee. What are you going to do
with yourself?'

'I do not know what to do with myself. I really do not like to go
anywhere until I have heard from Montfort. I think I shall go to my
hotel' 'I will drive you. It is now three o'clock.' But just at this
moment, Mr. Bevil called on the Count, and another hour disappeared.
When they were fairly in the cabriolet, there were so many places to
call at, and so many persons to see, that it was nearly six o'clock when
they reached the hotel. Ferdinand ran up stairs to see if there were any
letter from Lord Montfort. He found his lordship's card, and also Mr.
Temple's; they had called about half an hour ago; there was also a note.
These were its contents:--

'Grosvenor-square, Thursday.

'My Dear Captain Armine,

'I have prepared myself with this note, as I fear I shall hardly be so
fortunate as to find you at home. It is only very recently that I have
learnt from Henrietta that you were in London, and I much regret to hear
that you have been so great an invalid. It is so long since we met that
I hope you will dine with us to-day; and indeed I am so anxious to see
you, that I trust, if you have unfortunately made any other engagement,
you may yet contrive to gratify my request. It is merely a family party;
you will only meet our friends from St. James'-square, and your own
circle in Brook-street. I have asked no one else, save old Lady Bellair,
and your friend Count Mirabel; and Henrietta is so anxious to secure
his presence, that I shall be greatly obliged by your exerting your
influence to induce him to accompany you, as I fear there is little hope
of finding him free.

'Henrietta joins with me in kindest regards; and I beg you to believe
me,

'My dear Captain Armine,

'Most cordially yours,

'Pelham Temple.'

'Well, what is the matter?' said the Count, when Ferdinand returned to
the cabriolet, with the note in his hand, and looking very agitated.

'The strangest note!' said Ferdinand.

'Give it me,' said the Count. 'Do you call that strange? Tis the most
regular epistle I ever read; I expected it. 'Tis an excellent fellow,
that Mr. Temple; I will certainly dine with him, and send an excuse to
that old Castlefyshe. A family party, all right; and he asks me, that
is proper. I should not wonder if it ended by my being your trustee, or
your executor, or your first child's godfather. Ah, that good Temple
is a sens