Mary returned her salutation with as much effusion as she could call up, and then turned to greet Mr. Wallowby who stood a step behind, like the attendant of a princess on the stage. He could only bow himself, with a weakly smile to his encumbered hands and arms, for there was a vicious twitch about Fidele's mouth and eye, which warned him that any relaxation of watchfulness or elbow would be followed by a snap or perhaps an ugly bite. 'Ah! To be sure you know each other! I had forgotten that. Met at Auchlippie last summer, of course. It was there _we_ met first, too, by the way, in our days of young love and inexperience. How long ago it all seems now! And how droll! Does it not, Wallowby?' 'Very droll,' returned the husband in a dull and absent voice, as if he might have added, 'And very wretched, too,' but had still so much self-respect as kept him from parading his disappointment. He had tasted more of gall than sweetness during his honeymoon, and had found himself matched to so expert a manager that it was harder to struggle than submit; and he had meekly subsided into poodle-bearer and banker before the honeymoon was half gone through. Julia made no pretence of admiring him now, and this was so strange an experience that he worshipped her for her superiority, and probably loved her in some weak and querulous fashion. Do not people love and reverence all the queer idols they set up, if only they are strong and heavy enough to crush their worshippers? But Julia would have none of his endearments or devotion. They bored, and after a few days did not even amuse her. Adolphe the courier spoke French and Italian, and she practised herself in those tongues under his direction, which was better than talking vapid sentiment with her husband; and so long as their expenditure was liberal, there were plenty of talkative foreigners--counts--princes--all sorts of interesting creatures to be had, who conversed delightfully, and were so romantic, realizing to her mind some of the most charming passages in the French novels she doted on. Thus Julia enjoyed her tour immensely, and was returning home in the best of good humour, prepared to queen it over the Misses Kettlebotham and all the people who should come within her circle. Roderick stood in the back-ground. A distant bow was all the recognition he either expected or received from the lady, and when they moved on he followed with Wallowby. He offered to relieve him of some of his burdens, but the poor man declined--he clung to his service as the only hold left him on the woman he had married--though he did wish that something would happen to Fidele; that its morning cream, for instance, would disagree with its liver, and that it might shortly die. The Browns parted with their friends at the hotel door, and hastened to London, whence in due time they returned to Scotland.