“Yes, my Lady; she has just revealed to us what was doing at the Crimea. She says that two of the English advanced batteries have slackened their fire for want of ammunition, and that a deserter was telling Todleben of the reason at the moment She is _en rapport_ with her sister, who is now at Sebastopol.” “And are we to be supposed to credit this?” asked my Lord. “I can only aver that I believe it, my Lord,” said Lanfranchi, whose massive head and intensely acute features denoted very little intellectual weakness. “I wish you 'd ask her why are we lingering so long in this dreary place?” sighed Lady Lackington, peevishly. “She answered that question yesterday, my Lady,” replied he, quietly. “How was that? Who asked her? What did she say?” “It was the Baron von Glum that asked; and her answer was, 'Expecting a disappointment.'” “Very gratifying intelligence, I must say. Did you hear that, my Lord?” “Yes, I heard it, and I have placed it in my mind in the same category as her Crimean news.” “Can she inform us when we are to get away?” asked her Ladyship. “She mentioned to-morrow evening as the time, my Lady,” said the doctor, calmly. A faint laugh of derisive meaning was Lady Lackington's only reply; and the doctor gravely remarked: “There is more in these things than we like to credit; perhaps our very sense of inferiority in presence of such prediction is a bar to our belief. We do not willingly lend ourselves to a theory which at once excludes us from the elect of prophecy.” “Could she tell us who'll win the Derby?” said Spicer, joining the colloquy. But a glance from her Ladyship at once recalled him from the indiscreet familiarity. “Do you think she could pronounce whose is the arrival that makes such a clatter outside?” said Lord Lackington, as a tremendous chorus of whip-cracking announced the advent of something very important; and the doctor hurried off to receive the visitor. Already a large travelling-carriage, drawn by eight horses, and followed by a “fourgon” with four, had drawn up before the great entrance, and a courier, gold-banded and whiskered, and carrying a most imposingly swollen money-bag, was ringing stoutly for admittance. When Dr. Lanfranchi had exchanged a few words with the courier, he approached the window of the carriage, and, bowing courteously, proceeded to welcome the traveller. “Your apartments have been ready since the sixteenth, sir; and we hoped each day to have seen you arrive.” “Have your visitors all gone?” asked the stranger, in a low quiet tone. “No, sir; the fine weather has induced many to prolong their stay. We have the Princess Labanoff, Lord Lackington, the Countess Grembinski, the Duke of Terra di Monte, the Lady Grace--”