In his present state of mind the Baron was capable of any indiscretion were he compelled to talk; while, silent and brooding in isolated majesty, he looked to perfection the part of returning exile.

So, evidently, thought Mr.Gallosh.
"His lordship is looking verra well," he confided to the Count in a respectfully lowered voice.
"The improvement has been remarkable ever since his foot touched his native heath." "You don't say so," said Mr.Gallosh, with even greater interest.

"Was he delicate before ?" "A London life, Mr.Gallosh." "True--true, he'll have been busy seeing his friends; it'll have been verra wearing." "The anxiety, the business of being invested, and so on, has upset him a trifle.

You must put down any little--well, peculiarity to that, Mr.
Gallosh." "I understand--aye, umh'm, quite so.

He'll like to be left to himself, perhaps ?" "That depends on his condition," said the Count diplomatically.
"It's a great responsibility for a young man; yon's a big property to look after," observed Mr.Gallosh in a moment.
"You have touched the spot!" said the Count warmly.