Chapter 22

Lord Braithwaite came into the principal door of the library as the
priest was speaking, and stood a moment just upon the threshold,
looking keenly out of the stronger light into this dull and darksome
apartment, as if unable to see perfectly what was within; or rather, as
Redclyffe fancied, trying to discover what was passing between those
two. And, indeed, as when a third person comes suddenly upon two who
are talking of him, the two generally evince in their manner some
consciousness of the fact; so it was in this case, with Redclyffe at
least, although the priest seemed perfectly undisturbed, either through
practice of concealment, or because he had nothing to conceal.

His Lordship, after a moment's pause, came forward, presenting his hand
to Redclyffe, who shook it, and not without a certain cordiality; till
he perceived that it was the left hand, when he probably intimated some
surprise by a change of manner.

"I am an awkward person," said his Lordship. "The left hand, however,
is nearest the heart; so be assured I mean no discourtesy."

"The Signor Ambassador and myself," observed the priest, "have had a
most interesting conversation (to me at least) about books and
bookworms, spiders, and other congruous matters; and I find his
Excellency has heretofore made acquaintance with a great spider bearing
strong resemblance to the hermit of our library."

"Indeed," said his Lordship. "I was not aware that America had yet
enough of age and old misfortune, crime, sordidness, that accumulate
with it, to have produced spiders like this. Had he sucked into himself
all the noisomeness of your heat?"

Redclyffe made some slight answer, that the spider was a sort of pet of
an old virtuoso to whom he owed many obligations in his boyhood; and
the conversation turned from this subject to others suggested by topics
of the day and place. His Lordship was affable, and Redclyffe could
not, it must be confessed, see anything to justify the prejudices of
the neighbors against him. Indeed, he was inclined to attribute them,
in great measure, to the narrowness of the English view,--to those
insular prejudices which have always prevented them from fully
appreciating what differs from their own habits. At lunch, which was
soon announced, the party of three became very pleasant and sociable,
his Lordship drinking a light Italian red wine, and recommending it to
Redclyffe; who, however, was English enough to prefer some bitter ale,
while the priest contented himself with pure water,--which is, in
truth, a less agreeable drink in chill, moist England than in any
country we are acquainted with.

"You must make yourself quite at home here,"