d plotting for his brother's
advancement. He talked of him as if he was his son, rather than a
younger brother; in fact, there were eighteen years between them. Our
marriage broke up all this. The great man was shocked at the humble
connection, and poor Walter would not bear to have me slightingly spoken
of; but dear me, Mr. Maitland, how I am running on! To talk of such
things to you! I am really ashamed of myself! What will you think of
me?"

"Only what I have learned to think of you, madam, from all your
neighbors,--with sentiments of deep respect and sincere interest."

"It is very good of you to say it, sir; and I wish Tony was back here to
know you and thank you for all your attention to his mother."

"You are expecting him, then?" asked he.

"Well, sir, I am, and I am not. One letter is full of hope and
expectancy; by Thursday or Friday he 's to have some tidings about this
or that place; and then comes another, saying how Sir Harry counsels him
to go out and make friends with his uncle. All mammon, sir,--nothing but
mammon; just because this old man is very rich, and never was married."

"I suspect you are in error there, madam. Sir Omerod was married at
least twenty years ago, when I first heard of him at Naples."

She shook her head doubtfully, and said, "I have always been told the
reverse, sir. I know what you allude to, but I have reason to believe I
am right, and there is no Lady Butler."

"It is curious enough, madam, that through a chance acquaintance on
a railroad train, I learned all about the lady he married. She was an
Italian."

"It 's the same story I have heard myself, sir. We only differ about the
ending of it. She was a stage-player or a dancer."

"No, madam; a very celebrated prima donna."

"Ay," said she, as though there was no discrepancy there. "I heard how
the old fool--for he was no young man then--got smitten with her voice
and her beauty, and made such a fuss about her, taking her here and
there in his state coach, and giving great entertainments for her at the
Embassy, where the arms of England were over the door; and I have
been told that the king heard of it, and wrote to Sir Omerod a fearful
letter, asking how he dared so to degrade the escutcheon of the great
nation he represented. Ah, you may smile, sir." Maitland had, indeed,
smiled alike at her tale, and the energy with which she told it "You
may smile, sir; but it was no matter for laughter, I promise you. His
Majest