y card. My cards, being part of my wedding outfit,
necessarily had the false name printed on them--_Mrs. Eustace
Woodville_. The servant showed me into a front room on the ground-floor,
and disappeared with my card in his hand.

Looking about me, I noticed a door in the wall opposite the window,
communicating with some inner room. The door was not of the ordinary
kind. It fitted into the thickness of the partition wall, and worked in
grooves. Looking a little nearer, I saw that it had not been pulled out
so as completely to close the doorway. Only the merest chink was left;
but it was enough to convey to my ears all that passed in the next room.

"What did you say, Oliver, when she asked for me?" inquired a man's
voice, pitched cautiously in a low key.

"I said I was not sure you were at home, sir," answered the voice of the
servant who had let me in.

There was a pause. The first speaker was evidently Major Fitz-David
himself. I waited to hear more.

"I think I had better not see her, Oliver," the Major's voice resumed.

"Very good, sir."

"Say I have gone out, and you don't know when I shall be back again. Beg
the lady to write, if she has any business with me."

"Yes, sir."

"Stop, Oliver!"

Oliver stopped. There was another and longer pause. Then the master
resumed the examination of the man.

"Is she young, Oliver?"

"Yes, sir."

"And--pretty?"

"Better than pretty, sir, to my thinking."

"Aye? aye? What you call a fine woman--eh, Oliver?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Tall?"

"Nearly as tall as I am, Major."

"Aye? aye? aye? A good figure?"

"As slim as a sapling, sir, and as upright as a dart."

"On second thoughts, I am at home, Oliver. Show her in! show her in!"

So far, one thing at least seemed to be clear. I had done well in
sending for the chambermaid. What would Oliver's report of me have
been if I had presented myself to him with my colorless cheeks and my
ill-dressed hair?

The servant reappeared, and conducted me to the inner room. Major
Fitz-David advanced to welcome me. What was the Major like?

Well, he was like a well-preserved old gentleman of, say, sixty years
old, little and lean, and chiefly remarkable by the extraordinary length
of his nose. After this feature, I noticed next his beautiful brown wig;
his sparkling little gray eyes; his rosy complexion; his short military
whisker, dyed to match his wig; his white teeth and his winning smile;
his smart blue frock-coat, wit