“Your honor—­my lord,” said Peter, who had been listening with great attention, “if I may presume just to ask two questions, without offence.”

“Say on, my good friend,” said Pendennyss, with an encouraging smile.

“Only” continued the steward—­hemming, to give proper utterance to his thoughts—­“I wish to know, whether you stayed in that same street after you left the hotel—­for Mr. John Moseley and I had a slight difference in opinion about it.”

The earl smiled, having caught the arch expression of John, and replied—­

“I believe I owe you an apology, Moseley, for my cavalier treatment; but guilt makes us all cowards.  I found you were ignorant of my incognito, and I was equally ashamed to continue it, or to become the relater of my own folly.  Indeed,” he continued, smiling on Emily as he spoke, “I thought your sister had pronounced the opinion of all reflecting people on my conduct.  I went out of town, Johnson, at day-break.  What is the other query?”

“Why, my lord,” said Peter, a little disappointed at finding his first surmise untrue, “that outlandish tongue your honor used—­”

“Was Spanish,” cried the earl.

“And not Greek, Peter,” said his master, gravely.  “I thought, from the words you endeavored to repeat to me, that you had made a mistake.  You need not be disconcerted, however, for I know several members of the parliament of this realm who could not talk the Greek language, that is, fluently.  So it can be no disgrace to a serving-man to be ignorant of it.”

Somewhat consoled to find himself as well off as the representatives of his country, Peter resumed his station in silence, when the carriages began to announce the return from the opera.  The earl took his leave, and the party retired to rest.

The thanksgivings of Emily that night, ere she laid her head on her pillow, were the purest offering of mortal innocence.  The prospect before her was unsullied by a cloud and she poured out her heart in the fullest confidence of pious love and heartfelt gratitude.

As early on the succeeding morning as good-breeding would allow, and much earlier than the hour sanctioned by fashion, the earl and Lady Marian stopped in the carriage of the latter at the door of Sir Edward Moseley.  Their reception was the most flattering that could be offered to people of their stamp; sincere, cordial, and, with a trifling exception in Lady Moseley, unfettered with any useless ceremonies.

Emily felt herself drawn to her new acquaintance with a fondness which doubtless grew out of her situation with her brother; which soon found reasons enough in the soft, lady-like, and sincere manners of Lady Marian, to, justify her attachment on her own account.