The great entrance-hall was thronged. Servants, officers, government officials, men about town, stood in groups or moved here and there in pursuit of their several objects of business or pleasure. No one appeared to remark the presence of the new-comer, who walked quietly through the throng towards the broad staircase. At the foot a gorgeously-dressed flunkey was standing, to whom one or two gentlemen had already applied for information. As Harry was about to address him, his attention was attracted by a woolly-pated wide-grinning black boy, who at that moment ran down the stairs. He carried a silver tray, on which a cup and jug of fine porcelain jingled as he ran. "Done, Sambo?" asked the tall flunkey at the stair-foot. "Yussir!" replied the boy with a white grin. "My lord jolly dis mornin; oh yes; drink him chocolate without one cuss. Gwine to begin work now; oh yes." "Can I see the Lord Godolphin?" asked Harry, stepping up to the servant as Sambo disappeared. The man gave Harry a stare, but answered respectfully: "My lord’s levee is over, sir. The nigger brings down the tray when the last visitor has gone." "I have come specially to see my lord, and——" "Have you an appointment, sir?" "I think if you will take my name to my lord he will see me." Harry spoke quietly; he was determined not to be turned from his purpose by mere formality or red tape. The man eyeing him saw nothing but self-possession and confidence in his air. "My lord is now engaged with his correspondence," he said. "He does not brook interruption." "My name is Harry Rochester; I will answer for it that you will do no wrong in acquainting his lordship." After a moment’s hesitation the man beckoned to a fellow-servant, and gave him Harry’s message. He went upstairs, and returning in a few minutes said: "What is your business with my lord, sir? His lordship does not remember your name." There was the suggestion of a sneer in the man’s voice. With hardly a perceptible pause Harry replied: "Tell his lordship I am from Winton St. Mary, at his invitation." A faint smile curled the lips of the two flunkeys. The second again mounted the stairs. When he descended, his face wore its usual expression of deference and respect. "Be so good as to wait upon his lordship," he said, and led the way. In a few minutes Harry found himself, hat in hand, making his bow to Lord Godolphin in a large wainscoted apartment. Four large candles burnt upon the mantel-piece, daylight being kept out by the heavy curtains on either side of the narrow window. A huge log fire filled the chimney-place; beyond it stood a broad table littered with papers, which at that moment a young man was sorting by the light of a shaded candle. Lord Godolphin was in dressing-gown and slippers. "Well, sir?" he said. "My name is Rochester, my lord." "I am aware of that. I do not recall it. Well?" My lord’s tone was cold and uninviting.