! I was ver rich, wit my
palaces and de mayorat how you call dat?"

Before this question could be answered, the servant threw open the
double door of the salon, and announced, "Milordo Norwood!" A shell
might have burst in the apartment and not created much more confusion.
Mrs. Ricketts gave a look at Martha, as though to assure herself that
she was in safety. Poor Martha's own fingers trembled as she bent over
her frame. Haggerstone buttoned up his coat and arranged his cravat with
the air of a man so consummate a tactician that he could actually roll
himself in pitch and yet never catch the odor; while Purvis, whose dread
of a duel list exceeded his fear of a mad dog, ensconced himself behind
a stand of geraniums, where he resolved to live in a state of retirement
until the terrible Viscount had withdrawn. As for the Count, a
preparatory touch at his moustache, and a slight arrangement of his
hair, sufficed him to meet anything; and as these were the ordinary
details of his daily toilet, he performed them with a rapidity quite
instinctive.

To present oneself in a room where one's appearance is unacceptable is,
perhaps, no slight test of tact, manner, and effrontery; to be actually
indifferent to the feelings around is to be insensible to the danger;
to see the peril, and yet appear not to notice it, constitutes the true
line of action. Lord Norwood was perfect in this piece of performance,
and there was neither exaggerated cordiality nor any semblance of
constraint in his manner as he advanced to Mrs. Ricketts, and taking her
hand, pressed it respectfully to his lips.

"This salutation," said he, gayly, "is a commission from Lord
Kennycroft, your old and constant admirer. It was his last word as we
parted: 'Kiss Mrs. Ricketts's hand for me, and say I am faithful as
ever.'"

"Poor dear Lord! General, here is Lord Norwood come to see us."

"How good of him how very kind! Just arrived from the East, my Lord?"
said he, shaking Foglass by the hand in mistake.

"No, sir; from Malta." He wouldn't say England, for reasons. "Miss
Ricketts, I am most happy to see you and still occupied with the fine
arts? Haggy, how d'ye do? Really it seems to me like yesterday since I
sat here last in this delightful arm-chair, and looked about me on all
these dear familiar objects. You 've varnished the Correggio, I think?"

"The Vandyk, my Lord."

"To be sure the Vandyk. How stupid I am! Indeed, Lady Foxington said
that not all yo