"I will send her to you," said the countess, and left the room.

‘Cold, perhaps,’ returned Mr Folair; ‘cold, perhaps. That is the fault of my position—not of myself, Mr Johnson. My position as a mutual friend requires it, sir.’ Mr Folair paused with a most impressive look, and diving into the hat before noticed, drew from thence a small piece of whity–brown paper curiously folded, whence he brought forth a note which it had served to keep clean, and handing it over to Nicholas, said—