“Of course, every word of it is a falsehood; but there are _gobemouches_ will believe anything. Mark my words, and see if this allegation be not heard in the House of Commons, and some Tower Hamlets member start up to ask if the Foreign Secretary will lay on the table copies of the instructions given to a certain person, and supposed to be credentials of a nature to supersede the functions of our ambassador at the Porte. In confidence, between ourselves, Miss Herbert, so they are! I am intrusted with full powers about the Hatti Homayoun, as the world shall see in good time.” “Do you take your tea strong?” asked she; and there was something so odd and so inopportune in the question, that I felt it as a sort of covert sneer; but when I looked up and beheld that pale and gentle face turned towards me, I banished the base suspicion, and forgetting all my enthusiasm, said,-- “Yes, dearest; strong as brandy!” She tried to look grave, perhaps angry; but in spite of herself, she burst out a-laughing. “I perceive, sir,” said she, “that Mrs. Keats was quite correct when she said that you appear to have moments in which you are unaware of what you say.” Before I could rally to reply, she had poured out a cup of tea for Mrs. Keats, and left the room to carry it to her. “'Moments in which I am unaware of what I say,'--'incoherent intervals' Forbes Winslow would call them: in plain English, I am mad. Old woman, have you dared to cast such an aspersion on me, and to disparage me, too, in the quarter where I am striving to achieve success? For her opinion of me I am less than indifferent; for her Judgment of my capacity, my morals, my manners, I am as careless as I well can be of anything; but these become serious disparagements when they reach the ears of one whose heart I would make my own. I will insist on an explanation--no, but an apology--for this. She shall declare that she used these words in some non-natural sense,--that I am the sanest of mortals: she shall give it under her hand and seal: 'I, the undersigned, having in a moment of rash and impatient Judgment imputed to the bearer of this document, Algernon Sydney Potts,'--no, Pottinger--ha, there is a difficulty! If I be Pottinger, I can never re-become Potts; if Potts, I am lost,--or rather, Miss Herbert is lost to me forever. What a dire embarrassment! Not to mention that in the passport I was Ponto!” “Mrs. Keats desired me to beg you will step up to her room after breakfast, and bring your account-books with you.” This was said by Miss Herbert as she entered and took her place at the table. “What has the old woman got in her head?” said I, angrily. “I have no account-books,--I never had such in my life. When I travel alone, I say to my courier, 'Diomede'--he is a Greek--'Diomede, pay;' and he pays. When Diomede is not with me, I ask, 'How much?' and I give it.” “It certainly simplifies travel,” said she, gravely.