had ever been his fortune to witness and to envy!--so that the little
favour he was about to ask was but a slight return for Lord Vargrave's
condescension.

He found the banker in his private sanctum, his carriage at the door; for
it was just four o'clock, an hour in which Mr. Douce regularly departed
to Caserta, as his aforesaid villa was somewhat affectedly styled.

Mr. Douce was a small man, a nervous man; he did not seem quite master of
his own limbs: when he bowed he seemed to be making you a present of his
legs; when he sat down, he twitched first on one side, then on the other,
thrust his hands into his pockets, then took them out, and looked at
them, as if in astonishment, then seized upon a pen, by which they were
luckily provided with incessant occupation. Meanwhile, there was what
might fairly be called a constant play of countenance: first he smiled,
then looked grave; now raised his eyebrows, till they rose like rainbows,
to the horizon of his pale, straw-coloured hair; and next darted them
down, like an avalanche, over the twinkling, restless, fluttering, little
blue eyes, which then became almost invisible. Mr. Douce had, in fact,
all the appearance of a painfully shy man, which was the more strange, as
he had the reputation of enterprise, and even audacity, in the business
of his profession, and was fond of the society of the great.

"I have called on you, my dear sir," said Lord Vargrave, after the
preliminary salutations, "to ask a little favour, which, if the least
inconvenient, have no hesitation in refusing. You know how I am situated
with regard to my ward, Miss Cameron; in a few months I hope she will be
Lady Vargrave."

Mr. Douce showed three small teeth, which were all that, in the front of