‘Too late, I fear me, to wait upon Lord Livelyston to-night?’ she suggested.

‘To-night?’ The Hon. Melville gazed blank astonishment at the notion.  ’Oh! certainly, too late tonight.  A-hum!  I think, madam, you had better not be in too great a hurry to see him.  Repose a little.  Recover your fatigue.’

‘Oh !’ exclaimed the Countess, with a beam of utter confidence in him, ‘I shall be too happy to place myself in your hands—­believe me.’

This was scarcely more to the taste of the diplomatist.  He put up his mouth, and said, blandly: 

’I fear—­you know, madam, I must warn you beforehand—­I, personally, am but an insignificant unit over here, you know; I, personally, can’t guarantee much assistance to you—­not positive.  What I can do—­ of course, very happy!’ And he fell to again upon the beef.

‘Not so very insignificant!’ said the Countess, smiling, as at a softly radiant conception of him.

‘Have to bob and bow like the rest of them over here,’ he added, proof against the flattery.

‘But that you will not forsake Silva, I am convinced,’ said the Countess; and, paying little heed to his brief ‘Oh! what I can do,’ continued:  ’For over here, in England, we are almost friendless.  My relations—­such as are left of them—­are not in high place.’  She turned to Mrs. Melville, and renewed the confession with a proud humility.  ’Truly, I have not a distant cousin in the Cabinet!’

Mrs. Melville met her sad smile, and returned it, as one who understood its entire import.

’My brother-in-law-my sister, I think, you know—­married a—­a brewer!  He is rich; but, well! such was her taste!  My brother-in-law is indeed in Parliament, and he—­’

‘Very little use, seeing he votes with the opposite party,’ the diplomatist interrupted her.

‘Ah! but he will not,’ said the Countess, serenely.  ’I can trust with confidence that, if it is for Silva’s interest, he will assuredly so dispose of his influence as to suit the desiderations of his family, and not in any way oppose his opinions to the powers that would willingly stoop to serve us!’

It was impossible for the Hon. Melville to withhold a slight grimace at his beef, when he heard this extremely alienized idea of the nature of a member of the Parliament of Great Britain.  He allowed her to enjoy her delusion, as she pursued: 

’No.  So much we could offer in repayment.  It is little!  But this, in verity, is a case.  Silva’s wrongs have only to be known in England, and I am most assured that the English people will not permit it.  In the days of his prosperity, Silva was a friend to England, and England should not—­should not—­forget it now.  Had we money!  But of that arm our enemies have deprived us:  and, I fear, without it we cannot hope to have the justice of our cause pleaded in the English papers.  Mr. Redner, you know, the correspondent in Lisbon, is a sworn foe to Silva.  And why but because I would not procure him an invitation to Court!  The man was so horridly vulgar; his gloves were never clean; I had to hold a bouquet to my nose when I talked to him.  That, you say, was my fault!  Truly so.  But what woman can be civil to a low-bred, pretentious, offensive man?’