Theresa looked pale, and appeared to be in a state of trepidation. Her maid Agatha, however, seemed to be keenly alive to all that was passing, for her eyes wandered about from one to another in an inquiring manner.
Madame Trieste was lively and loquacious, and the meal passed over pleasantly enough. When it was concluded, and the party were about to leave the dining-room, a loud barking of dogs in the garden fell upon their ears.
“Oh, a visitor,” remarked Madame Trieste.
“Do you expect anyone?” inquired Lord Ethalwood.
“Well, yes, I do, if the truth must be told,” returned his hostess.
Theresa started, and a troubled look sat on her beauteous and expressive features.
There was a gentle rap at the door, after which a young man entered the room. He appeared to be about four or five and twenty. He had a well-knit frame, indicating great strength and activity. His features were characteristic of determination and were possessed of a certain amount of manly beauty—albeit, they lacked refinement. His hair was black, and his complexion swarthy.
Madame Trieste held out her hand to him, which he raised to his lips with a kind of rough gallantry. He then shook hands with Theresa, who appeared to be greatly disconcerted.
Lord Ethalwood returned the young man’s salutation with the greatest possible hauteur.
“My dear Gerome,” said Madame Trieste, in an affectionate tone, “this gentleman is Lord Ethalwood, of whom you have heard us so often speak.”