“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!”