so flawless, so well instructed in some respects, had a fault which gave
everything away. His h's were uncertain. Three of them would come quite
right, but the fourth, let us say, would be conspicuous either by
its utter absence or by its unwanted appearance. He could speak, when
describing the Ragnall pictures, in rotund and flowing periods that
would scarcely have disgraced the pen of Gibbon. Then suddenly that
"h" would appear or disappear, and the illusion was over. It was like a
sudden shock of cold water down the back. I never discovered the origin
of his family; it was a matter of which he did not speak, perhaps
because he was vague about it himself; but if an earl of Norman blood
had married a handsome Cockney kitchenmaid of native ability, I can
quite imagine that Samuel Savage might have been a child of the union.
For the rest he was a good man and a faithful one, for whom I have a
high respect.

On this occasion he conducted us round the castle, or, rather, its more
public rooms, showing us many treasures and, I should think, at least
two hundred pictures by eminent and departed artists, which gave him an
opportunity of exhibiting a peculiar, if somewhat erratic, knowledge of
history. To tell the truth, I began to wish that it were a little less
full in detail, since on a December day those large apartments felt
uncommonly cold. Scroope and Miss Manners seemed to keep warm, perhaps
with the inward fires of mutual admiration, but as I had no one to
admire except Mr. Savage, a temperature of about 35 degrees produced its
natural effect upon me.

At length we took a short cut from the large to the little gallery
through a warmed and comfortable room, which I understood was Lord
Ragnall's study. Halting for a moment by one of the fires, I observed
a picture on the wall, over which a curtain was drawn, and asked Mr.