"Yes, and who must have been a professor. I remember very well."

"A friend of mine brought a friend of his to see me this afternoon, and
the man himself is coming to-morrow."

"What is his name?" asked the lady-companion.

"I am sure I don't know, but Mr. Barker says he is very eccentric. He is
very rich, and yet he lives in a garret in Heidelberg and wishes he were
poor."

"Are you quite sure he is in his right mind, dear Countess?"

Margaret looked kindly at Miss Skeat. Poor lady! she had been rich once,
and had not lived in a garret. Money to her meant freedom and
independence. Not that she was unhappy with Margaret, who was always
thoughtful and considerate, and valued her companion as a friend; but
she would rather have lived with Margaret feeling it was a matter of
choice and not of necessity, for she came of good Scottish blood, and
was very proud.

"Oh yes!" answered the younger lady; "he is very learned and
philosophical, and I am sure you will like him. If he is at all
civilised we will have him to dinner."

"By all means," said Miss Skeat with alacrity. She liked intelligent
society, and the Countess had of late indulged in a rather prolonged fit
of solitude. Miss Skeat took the last novel--one of Tourguéneff's--from
the table and, armed with a paper-cutter, began to read to her
ladyship.