epositing his hat and cane, and a roll of paper
he drew from his pocket, on the centre-table, and wiping his face
carefully with his cambric, musk-scented handkerchief, unspeakably
odious and unclean to my olfactories--"you have come at last; yet the
greatest wonder to me is, how you dare appear at all before me," and I
looked upon him right lionly, I believe.

"You were always inclined to assume the offensive with me, Miriam. Yet I
confess you have a little shadow of reason this time, or seem to have,
and I am here to-day for purposes of explanation or compromise" (bowing
gracefully), and he rubbed his palms together very gently and
complacently, looking around as he did so for a chair, which perceiving,
and drawing to the table so as to face me where I eat on the sofa, he
deposited himself upon, assuming at once his usual graceful pose.

It was _fauteuil_, and he threw one arm over that of the chair,
suffering his well-preserved white hand--always suggestive of poultices
to me--with its signet ring, to droop in front of it--a hand which he
moved up and down habitually, as he conversed, in a singularly soothing
and mechanical fashion--his "pendulum" we used to call it in old times,
Evelyn and I, when it was one of our chief resources for amusement to
laugh at "Cagliostro," our _sobriquet_ for this _ci-devant jeune homme_,
it may be remembered.

"Let me premise, Miriam," he began, "by congratulating you on your
improved appearance"--another benign bow. "You were so burned and
blackened by exposure, and so--in short, so very wild-looking when I
last saw you, that I began to fear for the result; but perfect rest and
retirement, and good nursing, have effected wonders. I have never seen
you so fair, so refined-looking, and yet so calm, as you are now
(calmness, my child, is aristocratic--cultivate it!); even if a little
thin and delicate from confinement, yet perfectly healthy, I cannot
doubt, from what I see. Do assure me of your health, my dear girl. You
are as dumb to-day as Grey's celebrated prophetess."

"All personal remarks as coming from you are offensive to me, Mr.
Bainrothe," I rejoined; "proceed to your business at once, whatever that
may be--a truce to preamble and compliments."

"You shall be obeyed," he remarked, bowing low and derisively. "Yet,
believe me, nothing but my care for your fair fame and my own have led
me to confine you in such narrow limits for a season which, I trust, is
almost over. As to