"Indeed!" said Lord Castletowers,
indifferently.

"And she is handsome."

"Yes—she is handsome."

The Countess looked at her son. The Earl
looked out of the window.

"I fancy," said the Countess, "that Major
Vaughan is paying a good deal of attention to
Olimpia."

"To—to Miss Colonna?" said the Earl, with
an involuntary catching of his breath."
Impossible!"

"Why impossible?"

"Because——Well, perhaps I scarcely know
why; but it seems so unlikely."

"Why unlikely?" pursued the Countess, coldly
and steadily.

Well—Vaughan is not a marrying man—and
he has no private means, or next to none, besides
his pay—and—and then, they are so utterly
unsuited—unsuited in every way—in tastes, ages,
dispositions, everything!"

The young man spoke hastily, and with a
perceptibly heightened colour. His mother, still
coldly observing him, went on.

"I do not agree with you, Gervase," said she,
"in any one of your objections. I believe that
Major Vaughan would quite willingly marry, if
Olimpia were the lady. He is not forty; and
if he has only a few hundreds a year besides his
pay, he is, at all events, richer than Olimpia's
father. Besides, he is a gallant officer; and if all
that Colonna anticipates should come to pass,
a gallant officer would be worth more than a
mere fortune, just now, to the Italian cause."

The Earl still stood by the window, looking
out at the park and the blue hills far away; but
made no reply.

"He has said nothing to you upon the
subject?" said Lady Castletowers.

"Nothing."

"Perhaps, however, it is hardly likely that he
would do so;"

"Most unlikely, I should say. But here's the
letter-bag—and here come surgeon and patient."

Lady Castletowers became at once condolent
and sympathetic; Mademoiselle Colonna laughed
off the accident with impatient indifference;
Major Vaughan bowed over his hostess's fair
hand; and all took their places at table.

"A budget, as usual, for Colonna," said Lord
Castletowers, sorting the pile of letters just
tumbled out of the bag." One, two, three billets,
redolent of what might be called the parfum du
boudoir, for Vaughan—also, as usual! Two
letters, my dearest mother, for you; and only
one (a square-shouldered, round-fisted, blue-
complexioned, obstinate-looking business
document) for myself. A pretty thing to lie at the
bottom of one's letter-bag, like hope at the
bottom of Pandora's casket!"

"It hath a Bond-street aspect, Castletowers,
that affects me unpleasantly," said Major
Vaughan, from whose brow the angry flush with
which he had received his three letters and swept
them carelessly on one side, had not yet quite
faded.

"Say, rather, a Chancery-lane aspect," replied
the young Earl, breaking the seal as he spoke;
"and that's as much worse than Bond-street as
Newgate is worse than the Queen's Bench."

"Bond-street and Chancery lane, Newgate
and the Queen's Bench!" repeated Mademoiselle
Colonna." The conversation sounds very awful.
What does it all mean?"

"I presume," said Lady Castletowers, "that
Major Vaughan supposed the letter to be written
by a—a tailor, or some person of that
description; while it really comes from my son's lawyer,
Mr. Trefalden."

"I met Mr. Trefalden a few weeks ago," said
Mademoiselle Colonna, " in Switzerland."

"In Switzerland?" echoed Lord Castletowers.

"And he authorised me to add his name to our
general committee list."

"A miracle! a miracle!"

"And why a miracle?" asked Lady
Castletowers. "Does Mr. Trefalden disapprove the
Italian cause?"

"Mr. Trefalden, my dear mother, never
approves or disapproves of any public movement
whatever. Nature seems to have created him
without opinions."

"Then he is either a very superficial, or a very
ambitious man," said Lady Castletowers.

"The latter, depend on it. He's a remarkably
clever fellow, and has good interest, no doubt.
He will set his politics to the tune of his interest
some day, and make his way to the woolsack ' in
a galliard.'"

"I am glad this is but a conjectural estimate
of Mr. Trefalden's character," said Olimpia.

"You like him, then?" said Major Vaughan,
hastily.

"I neither like him nor dislike him; but if
these were proven facts, I would never speak to
him again."

Signer Colonna came in and made his morning
salutations, his eyes wandering eagerly towards
his letters all the time.

"Good morning—good morning. Late, did
you say? Peccavi! So I am. I lost myself in
the library. Bell! I heard no bell. Pray
forgive me, dear Lady Castletowers. Any news
today? You were early this morning, Major
Vaughan. Saw you in the saddle soon after six.
Plenty of letters this morning, I see—plenty of
letters!"

And with this he slipped into his seat, and
became at once immersed in the contents of the
documents before him.

"Trefalden writes from town, mother," said
Lord Castletowers. " He excuses his delay on
the plea of much business. He has been settling
his cousin's affairs—the said cousin having come
in for between four and five millions sterling."

"A man who comes in for four or five millions
sterling has no right to live," said Major
Vaughan." His very being is an insult to his
offended species."