“Let me introduce Major Hopecot and the officers of the 5th,” said he, bowing courteously. “These gentlemen are strangers, Lady Eleanor; will you take care that they find partners.” While the abashed subalterns left their major to make his speeches to Lady Eleanor, the Knight moved round the room with Helen still leaning on his arm. By this time Darcy's arrival was generally known, and all his old friends came pressing forward to see and speak to him. “Lord Netherby,” whispered Helen in the Knight's ear, as a tall and very thin old man, with an excessive affectation of youthfulness, tripped forward to meet him. “My dear Lord,” exclaimed Darcy, “what a pleasure, and what an honor to see you here!” “You would not come to me, Knight, so there was nothing else for it,” replied the other, laughing, as he shook hands with a great display of cordiality. “And you were quite right,” continued he; “I could not have received you like this. There 's not so splendid a place in England, nor has it ever been my fortune to witness so much beauty.” A half bow accompanied the last words, as he turned towards Helen. “Take care, my Lord,” said the Knight, smiling; “the flatteries of a courtier are very dangerous things when heard out of the atmosphere that makes them commonplace. We may take you literally, and have our heads turned by them.” At this moment Lionel joined them, to introduce several of his friends and brother officers who accompanied him from England, all of whom were received by the Knight with that winning courtesy of manner of which he was a perfect master; for, not affecting either the vices or frivolities of youth as a claim to the consideration of younger men, the Knight possessed the happy temper that can concede indulgence without asking to partake of it, and, while losing nothing of the relish for wit and humor, chasten both by the fruits of a life's experience. “Now, Helen, you must go back to your partner; that young guardsman looks very sulkily at me for having taken you off--yes, I insist on it. Lionel, look to your friends, and I 'll join Lord Netherby's whist-table, and talk whenever permitted. Where 's poor Tate?” whispered he in Lady Eleanor's ear, as she just came up. “Poor fellow! he has been ill for some days back; you know what a superstitious creature he is; and about a week since he got a fright,--some warning of a Banshee, I think; but it shook his nerves greatly, and he has kept his bed almost ever since. Lionel brought over some of these servants with him; but Lord Netherby's people are Legion, and the servants' hall now numbers something like seventy, I hear.” The Knight heaved a sigh; but, catching himself, tried to conceal it by a cough. Lady Eleanor had heard it, however, and stole a quick glance towards him, to evade which he turned abruptly round and spoke to some one near.