ay
or two, for I mean to start by the end of the week."

"They expect you to come back with us. Alice told me you had promised."

"_L'homme propose_," said he, sighing. "By the way, I saw that young
fellow you told me about,--Butler; a good-looking fellow, too, well
limbed and well set up, but not a marvel of good-breeding or tact."

"Did he attempt any impertinences with _you?_" asked Mark, in a tone of
amazement.

"Not exactly; he was not, perhaps, as courteous as men are who care to
make a favorable impression; but he is not, as you suspected,--he is not
a snob."

"Indeed!" said Mark, reddening; for, though provoked and angry, he did
not like to contest the judgment of Norman Maitland on such a point.
"You 'll delight my sisters by this expression of your opinion; for my
own part, I can only say I don't agree with it."

"The more reason not to avow it, Lyle. Whenever you don't mean very well
by a man, never abuse him, since, after that, all your judgments of him
become _suspect_. Remember that where you praise you can detract;
nobody has such unlimited opportunities to poison as the doctor. There,
now,--there's a bit of Machiavelism to think over as you dress for
dinner, and I see it's almost time to do so."

CHAPTER XXII. THE DINNER AT TILNEY.

When Maitland entered the drawing-room before dinner, the Commodore
was standing in the window-recess pondering over in what way he should
receive him; while Sally and Beck sat somewhat demurely watching
the various presentations to which Mrs. Maxwell was submitting her
much-valued guest. At last Maitland caught sight of where they sat,
and hurried across the room to shake hands with them, and declare the
delight he felt at meeting them. "And the Commodore, is he here?"

"Yes; I 'll find him for you," said Beck, not sorry to display before
her country acquaintance the familiar terms she stood on with the great
Mr. Maitland.

With what a frank cordiality did he shake the old sailor's hand, and
how naturally came that laugh about nothing, or something very close to
nothing, that Graham said, in allusion to the warm quarters they found
themselves in. "Such Madeira!" whispered he, "and some old '34 claret.
By the way, you forgot your promise to taste mine."

"I 'll tell you how that occurred when we 've a quiet moment together,"
said Maitland, in a tone of such confidential meaning that the old man
was reassured at once. "I 've a good deal to say to you; but we '