no doubt, in these considerations; but
they left me a little anxious, nevertheless. Nor
was I quite satisfied, in my own mind, of the
propriety of our concealing the doctor's absence,
as we did, from Lady Glyde. It was a merciful
deception, I admit—for she was in no state to
bear any fresh anxieties. But still it was a
deception; and, as such, to a person of my
principles, at best a doubtful proceeding.

A second perplexing circumstance which
happened on the same day, and which took me
completely by surprise, added greatly to the
sense of uneasiness that was now weighing on
my mind.

I was sent for to see Sir Percival in the
library. The Count, who was with him when I
went in, immediately rose and left us alone
together. Sir Percival civilly asked me to take a
seat; and then, to my great astonishment,
addressed me in these terms:

"I want to speak to you, Mrs. Michelson, about
a matter which I decided on some time ago, and
which I should have mentioned before, but for
the sickness and trouble in the house. In plain
words, I have reasons for wishing to break up
my establishment immediately at this place—
leaving you in charge, of course, as usual. As
soon as Lady Glyde and Miss Halcombe can
travel, they must both have change of air. My
friends, Count Fosco and the Countess, will
leave us, before that time, to live in the
neighbourhood of London. And I have reasons for
not opening the house to any more company,
with a view to economising as carefully as I can.
I don't blame you—but my expenses here are a
great deal too heavy. In short, I shall sell the
horses, and get rid of all the servants at once.
I never do things by halves, as you know; and
I mean to have the house clear of a pack of
useless people by this time to-morrow."

I listened to him, perfectly aghast with
astonishment.

"Do you mean, Sir Percival, that I am to
dismiss the in-door servants, under my charge,
without the usual month's warning?" I asked.

"Certainly, I do. We may all be out of the
house before another month; and I am not
going to leave the servants here in idleness,
with no master to wait on."

"Who is to do the cooking, Sir Percival,
while you are still staying here?"

"Margaret Porcher can roast and boil—keep
her. What do I want with a cook, if I don't
mean to give any dinner-parties?"

"The servant you have mentioned is the
most unintelligent servant in the house, Sir
Percival——"

"Keep her, I tell you; and have a woman in
from the village to do the cleaning, and go away
again. My weekly expenses must and shall be
lowered immediately. I don't send for you to
make objections, Mrs. Michelson—I send for
you to carry out my plans of economy.
Dismiss the whole lazy pack of in-door servants
to-morrow, except Porcher. She is as strong as
a horse—and we'll make her work like a horse."

"You will excuse me for reminding you, Sir
Percival, that if the servants go to-morrow, they
must have a month's wages in lieu of a month's
warning."

"Let them! A month's wages saves a
month's waste and gluttony in the servants'-
hall."

This last remark conveyed an aspersion of the
most offensive kind on my management. I had
too much self-respect to defend myself under so
gross an imputation. Christian consideration
for the helpless position of Miss Halcombe and
Lady Glyde, and for the serious inconvenience
which my sudden absence might inflict on them,
alone prevented me from resigning my situation
on the spot. I rose immediately. It would have
lowered me in my own estimation to have
permitted the interview to continue a moment
longer.

"After that last remark, Sir Percival, I have
nothing more to say. Your directions shall be
attended to." Pronouncing those words, I
bowed my head with the most distant respect,
and went out of the room.

The next day, the servants left in a body.
Sir Percival himself dismissed the grooms and
stablemen; sending them, with all the horses
but one, to London. Of the whole domestic
establishment, in-doors and out, there now
remained only myself, Margaret Porcher, and the
gardener; this last living in his own cottage, and
being wanted to take care of the one horse that
remained in the stables.

With the house left in this strange and lonely
condition; with the mistress of it ill in her
room; with Miss Halcombe still as helpless as
a child; and with the doctor's attendance
withdrawn from us in enmity—it was surely not
unnatural that my spirits should sink, and my
customary composure be very hard to maintain. My
mind was ill at ease. I wished the two poor
ladies both well again; and I wished myself
away from Blackwater Park.

LATIN LONDON.

WHEN we had crossed from Gaul, guided by
the lofty sealight of Dubræ (Dover, if you will),
our mariners cast anchor under the massive walls
of the citadel of Rutupiæ, chief port in our
remote province of Britain, which is, in your
tongue, Richborough, near Sandwich. I, Quintus
Pertinax, of Ghoston, in the Elysian Fields,
shade, being then in the flesh, relished the
oysters that I ate at my first British supper.
For I was a Roman gentleman knowing well
what is good, and am so still.

Incurable in ghosts is their habit of wandering.
You will have observed that I was at
Rutupiæ just now; behold me, then, in London.
My own Roman London not at all, of course.
We wander, and have wandered for more years
than I can count. I was in the midst of the
broil when London was sacked and wasted by
the Danes. It amused me in those days to sit
by the clear water-side with that lean ghost of a
Cassius, and cast shadows of all sorts upon the