“What the world calls friends are usually relatives, and we have but one who could pretend to any sort of influence; and his treatment of my poor husband debars us from all knowledge of him. He was an only brother, a certain Sir Omerod Butler. You may, perhaps, have heard of him?” “Formerly British Minister at Naples, I think?” “The same, sir; a person, they tell me, of great abilities, but very eccentric, and peculiar,--indeed, so his letters bespeak him.” “You have corresponded with him then, madam?” “No, sir, never; but he wrote constantly to my husband before our marriage. They were at that time greatly attached to each other; and the elder, Sir Omerod, was always planning and plotting for his brother's advancement. He talked of him as if he was his son, rather than a younger brother; in fact, there were eighteen years between them. Our marriage broke up all this. The great man was shocked at the humble connection, and poor Walter would not bear to have me slightingly spoken of; but dear me, Mr. Maitland, how I am running on! To talk of such things to you! I am really ashamed of myself! What will you think of me?” “Only what I have learned to think of you, madam, from all your neighbors,--with sentiments of deep respect and sincere interest.” “It is very good of you to say it, sir; and I wish Tony was back here to know you and thank you for all your attention to his mother.” “You are expecting him, then?” asked he. “Well, sir, I am, and I am not. One letter is full of hope and expectancy; by Thursday or Friday he 's to have some tidings about this or that place; and then comes another, saying how Sir Harry counsels him to go out and make friends with his uncle. All mammon, sir,--nothing but mammon; just because this old man is very rich, and never was married.” “I suspect you are in error there, madam. Sir Omerod was married at least twenty years ago, when I first heard of him at Naples.” She shook her head doubtfully, and said, “I have always been told the reverse, sir. I know what you allude to, but I have reason to believe I am right, and there is no Lady Butler.” “It is curious enough, madam, that through a chance acquaintance on a railroad train, I learned all about the lady he married. She was an Italian.” “It 's the same story I have heard myself, sir. We only differ about the ending of it. She was a stage-player or a dancer.” “No, madam; a very celebrated prima donna.”