Thither, threading their way among the packages which littered the landings as well as the apartments, came those anxious to have a last few words with Mr. Duval. Mr. Moss Marks, the manager of the Gravity, was there, nervously anxious about the forthcoming _Pickwick's Progress_, and constantly endeavouring to cut down costly items of furniture and decoration which Duval had insisted upon being provided. Mr. Hodgkinson, too, came to impress upon his friend his parting injunctions, that if he saw anything in the States likely to make a sensation, any 'fakement' likely to hit up the British public, he should wire him at once and send it over by the next boat. There, too, was the great impresario, Wuff, who began to find that camels and coryphées spelt bankruptcy as well as Shakespeare, and he was eager to beg a few last words of advice from the omniscient Bryan Duval before he started. Mr. Foster looked in, too, once or twice, to see how his friend was getting on, and to ask whether he could be any use in helping him in his preparations for the voyage. Nor was Miss Montressor without her visitors. Two days after the announcement of her intended visit to America appeared in the Sunday papers, a mysterious old lady, neatly dressed in black silk, with an old-fashioned bonnet, appeared at the Brompton villa, and giving her name as Mrs. Porter, begged permission to speak for a few minutes to the lady of the house. The page, who, though a sharp boy, was not yet sufficiently versed in his business to gauge the social position of visitors, was about to usher the old lady into the drawing-room, but Justine, happening to pass downstairs at the moment, promptly bade her take a seat in the hall, and took upon herself the task of announcing her arrival. Miss Montressor started very much at tearing the name, but recovering herself, desired that the visitor should be shown to her bedroom. The old lady bowed when she received the summons; and Justine noticed that she trembled very much as she ascended the stairs. What passed during the interview Justine did not exactly know, though she loitered about the passage to gather as much as she could. First, she heard her mistress's voice in high sharp tones of rebuke, and the old lady apparently pleading. Miss Montressor's voice then softened very much, and the conversation was carried on in a low earnest undertone, mingled, so Justine thought, with sobs from one, if not from both, and just before the door opened she could have sworn she heard a sound as of many kisses, broken with words of blessing and farewell. And Miss Montressor's eyes were very red, and her brilliant complexion rather tear-blurred, after her visitor's departure; and though she speedily rectified this irregularity, she remained singularly quiet and subdued all that evening.