"Oh! my dear count—we will repair this little error the day after to-morrow—or the next day," answered Mr. Greenwood: "I wish that every body was as regular and as punctual with me, as I endeavour to be with others; and that punctuality on my part, my dear sir, has been the origin of my fortune. I do not like to speak of myself, ladies—I hate egotism—but really," he added with another smile, "when one is attacked, you know——"
At that moment a domestic entered the room, and handed a letter to the countess, who immediately opened it, glanced towards the signature, and exclaimed almost involuntarily, "From Richard Markham!"
"Richard Markham!" cried Mr. Greenwood: "I thought I understood you that that gentleman had ceased to visit or correspond with you?"
"So I said—and so I shall maintain!" exclaimed the count. "My dear, we will return that letter without reading it."
"But I have already commenced the perusal of it," said the countess, without taking her eyes off the paper: "and——"
"Then read no more," cried the count, angrily.
"Excuse me—I shall read it all," answered the countess significantly: "and so will you."
"What means this?" ejaculated the count. "Have I lost all authority in my own house? Madam, I command you——"
"There—I have finished it, and I implore you to read it yourself. Its contents are highly important, and do not in any way relate to certain recent events. Indeed he has purposely avoided any thing which may appear obtrusive, either in the shape of explanation or apology."
The count took the letter with a very ill grace, and requested Mr. Greenwood's permission to read it. This was of course awarded; and the nobleman commenced the perusal. He had not, however, read many lines, before he gave a convulsive start, and looked mistrustfully upon Mr. Greenwood (who noticed his emotion), and hastily ran his eye over the remainder of the letter's contents.