Lucy, half-laughing, but in dreadful concern, begged the noble lord to excuse the woful mistake.
"Extremely flattered, highly favoured, I'm sure," said his lordship, re-arranging his disconcerted moustache; "may I beg the pleasure of an introduction?"
"My husband's dear old nurse—Mrs. Berry," said Lucy, taking her hand to lend her countenance. "Lord Mountfalcon, Mrs. Berry."
Mrs. Berry sought grace while she performed a series of apologetic bobs, and wiped the perspiration from her forehead.
Lucy put her in a chair: Lord Mountfalcon asked for an account of her passage over to the Island; receiving distressingly full particulars, by which it was revealed that the softness of her heart was only equalled by the weakness of her stomach. The recital calmed Mrs. Berry down.
"Well, and where's my—where's Mr. Richard? yer husband, my dear?" Mrs. Berry turned from her tale to question.
"Did you expect to see him here?" said Lucy, in a broken voice.
"And where else, my love? since he haven't been seen in London a whole fortnight."
Lucy did not speak.
"We will dismiss the Emperor Julian till to-morrow, I think," said Lord Mountfalcon, rising and bowing.