Punctual to the hour appointed, my cab drew up at 1090, Finsbury Square. In answer to my knock the door was opened by a negro servant, in a handsome light blue livery, who took my hat and coat, and ushered me, much to my surprise, into a drawing-room full of elegantly-dressed ladies and gentlemen, all engaged in agreeable conversation, intermingled with much laughter. I expected to dine quietly with Mr. Dove, and here were at least twenty guests, all entire strangers to me. The moment the servant pronounced my name, my host—who was quite a giant in comparison with his guests—came forward from a knot of ladies, with whom he was exchanging some pleasantry, and warmly welcomed me. Taking me round the company, he said—
"You will have great pleasure in becoming acquainted with the gentleman who saved my life."
"I was talking about you when you entered," addressing himself to me, "and explaining to my dear friends how much they are indebted to you. Without your valuable assistance last night, there would have been no joyous dinner—no spirit-stirring dance here this evening; and, alas! who would have administered to the wants of my flock?"
His language led me to suppose that my first idea was correct, that he was really a clergyman—perhaps of some new denomination. His appearance was very singular, and his manner eccentric, but not unpleasing. He appeared to be about forty-five, but the wrinkles on his forehead may have made him seem older than he really was.
I had hardly time to say that he made a great deal too much of the slight service, when dinner was announced by a pompous-looking butler dressed in black.
"You will take charge of Miss Bertram," my host said, with a wave of his hand in the direction of a pretty but pert-looking young lady eighteen or nineteen years of age, who at that instant entered the room, and who advanced without the slightest shyness, and placed the tips of her fingers on my arm.
The dining-room was on the other side of the entrance-hall, and during the short promenade, and while the guests were seating themselves, and during the progress of the dinner, the conversation never flagged for a moment—it was like the incessant roll of musketry.
The guests, with the exception of myself, were evidently well known to each other, and appeared very much at home. The host, by his genial manner, contributed not a little to the general cheerfulness, and he was exceedingly attentive to me.