“Very pretty,” said Lothair; “but it is not exactly this sort of thing that I want. See,” and he opened the dispatch-box, and took from out of it a crucifix. It was made of some Eastern wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl; the figure carved in brass, though not without power, and at the end of each of the four terminations of the cross was a small cavity, enclosing something, and covered with glass. “See,” continued Lothair, “this is the crucifix, given with a carved shell to each pilgrim who visits the Holy Sepulchre. Within these four cavities is earth from the four holy places: Calvary, Sion, Bethlehem, and Gethsemane. Now, what I want is a crucifix, something of this dimension, but made of the most costly materials; the figure must be of pure gold; I should like the cross to be of choice emeralds, which I am told are now more precious even than brilliants, and I wish the earth of the sacred places to be removed from this crucifix, and introduced in a similar manner into the one which you are to make; and each cavity must be covered with a slit diamond. Do you understand?” “I follow you, my lord,” said Mr. Ruby, with glistening eyes. “It will be a rare jewel. Is there to be a limit as to the cost?” “None but such as taste and propriety suggest,” said Lothair. “You will of course make a drawing and an estimate, and send them to me; but I desire dispatch.” When Mr. Ruby had retired, Lothair took from the dispatch-box a sealed packet, and looked at it for some moments, and then pressed it to his lips. In the afternoon, Lothair found himself again in the saddle, and was riding about London, as if he had never quitted it. He left his cards at Crecy House, and many other houses, and he called at the St. Jeromes’ late, but asked if they were at home. He had reckoned that they would not be, and his reckoning was right. It was impossible to conceal from himself that it was a relief. Mr. Putney Giles dined alone with Lothair this evening, and they talked over many things; among others the approaching marriage of Lady Corisande with the Duke of Brecon. “Everybody marries except myself,” said Lothair, rather peevishly. “But your lordship is too young to think of that yet,” said Mr. Putney Giles. “I feel very old,” said Lothair. At this moment there arrived a note from Bertram, saying his mother was quite surprised and disappointed that Lothair had not asked to see her in the morning. She had expected him, as a matter of course, at luncheon, and begged that he would come on the morrow. “I have had many pleasant luncheons in that house,” said Lothair, “but this will be the last. When all the daughters are married, nobody eats luncheon.” “That would hardly apply to this family,” said Mr. Putney Giles, who always affected to know every thing, and generally did. “They are so united, that I fancy the famous luncheons at Crecy House will always go on, and be a popular mode of their all meeting.”