“I want to know something about this same Mr. Dunn,” said Lord Lackington, confidentially. “So do I; like it of all things,” cried Twining. “Clever fellow-wonderful fellow--up to everything--acquainted with everybody. Great fun!” “He occupies a very distinguished position in Ireland, I fancy,” said his Lordship, with such a marked stress on the locality as to show that such did not constitute an imperial reputation. “Yes, yes, man of the day there; do what he likes; very popular--immensely popular!” said Twining, as he laughed on. “So that you know no more of him than his public repute---no more than I know myself,” said his Lordship. “Not so much as your Lordship, I'm certain,” said Twining, as though it would have been unbecoming in him to do so; “in fact, my business transactions are such mere nothings, that it's quite a kindness on his part to undertake them--trifles, no more!” And Twining almost hugged himself in the ecstasy which his last words suggested. “_Mine_,” said Lord Lackington, haughtily, “are of consequence enough to fetch him hither--a good thousand miles away from England; but he is pretty certain of its being well worth his while, to come.” “Quite convinced of that--could swear it,” said Twining, eagerly. “Here are a mob of insufferable bores,” said his Lordship, testily, as a number of people were heard approaching, for somehow--it is not easy to say exactly why--he had got into a train of thought that scorned to worry him, and was not disposed to meet strangers; and so, with a brief gesture of good-by to Twining, he turned into a path and disappeared. Twining looked after him for a second or two, and then slapping his legs, he muttered, pleasantly, “What fun!” and took the road towards the house. CHAPTER II. HOW TWO “FINE LADIES” PASS THE MORNING. In a room of moderate size, whose furniture was partly composed of bygone finery and some articles of modern comfort--a kind of compromise between a Royal residence and a Hydropathic establishment--sat two ladies at an open window, which looked out upon a small terrace above the lake. The view before them could scarcely have been surpassed in Europe. Enclosed, as in a frame, between the snow-clad Alps and the wooded mountains of the Brianca, lay the lake, its shores one succession of beautiful villas, whose gardens descended to the very water. Although the sun was high, the great mountains threw the shadows half way across the lake; and in the dim depth of shade, tower and crag, battlement and precipice, were strangely intermixed, giving to the picture a mysterious grandeur that contrasted strongly with the bright reality of the opposite shore, where fruit and flowers, gay tapestries from casements, and floating banners, added colour to the scene.