They were shown through the great hall by three lackeys into an inner vestibule, where they encountered the great man himself.  He was just then preparing to be put on to his horse, and Lady Mountjoy had already gone forth in her carriage for her daily airing, with the object, in truth, of avoiding the new-comers.  “My dear Sarah,” said Sir Magnus, “I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you and my niece very well.  Let me see, your name is—­”

“My name is Florence,” said the young lady so interrogated.

“Ah yes; to be sure.  I shall forget my own name soon.  If any one was to call me Magnus without the ‘Sir,’ I shouldn’t know whom they meant.”  Then he looked his niece in the face, and it occurred to him that Anderson might not improbably desire to flirt with her.  Anderson was the riding attache, who always accompanied him on horseback, and of whom Lady Mountjoy had predicted that he would be sure to flirt with the minister’s niece.  At that moment Anderson himself came in, and some ceremony of introduction took place.  Anderson was a fair-haired, good-looking young man, with that thorough look of self-satisfaction and conceit which attaches are much more wont to exhibit than to deserve.  For the work of an attache at Brussels is not of a nature to bring forth the highest order of intellect; but the occupations are of a nature to make a young man feel that he is not like other young men.

“I am so sorry that Lady Mountjoy has just gone out.  She did not expect you till the later train.  You have been staying at Boulogne.  What on earth made you stay at Boulogne?”

“Bathing,” said Mrs. Mountjoy, in a low voice.

“Ah, yes; I suppose so.  Why did you not come to Ostend?  There is better bathing there, and I could have done something for you.  What!  The horses ready, are they?  I must go out and show myself, or otherwise they’ll all think that I am dead.  If I were absent from the boulevard at this time of day I should be put into the newspapers.  Where is Mrs. Richards?” Then the two guests, with their own special Baker, were made over to the ministerial house-keeper, and Sir Magnus went forth upon his ride.

“She’s a pretty girl, that niece of mine,” said Sir Magnus.

“Uncommonly pretty,” said the attache.

“But I believe she is engaged to some one.  I quite forget who; but I know there is some aspirant.  Therefore you had better keep your toe in your pump, young man.”

“I don’t know that I shall keep my toe in my pump because there is another aspirant,” said Anderson.  “You rather whet my ardor, sir, to new exploits.  In such circumstances one is inclined to think that the aspirant must look after himself.  Not that I conceive for a moment that Miss Mountjoy should ever look after me.”