The visitor was introduced into the drawing-room, which was like all other furnished drawing-rooms. A mantelpiece, with two modern Sèvres vases, a timepiece representing Cupid with his bent bow, a mirror with an engraving on each side⁠—one representing Homer carrying his guide, the other, Belisarius begging⁠—a grayish paper; red and black tapestry⁠—such was the appearance of Lord Wilmore’s drawing-room.

It was illuminated by lamps with ground-glass shades which gave only a feeble light, as if out of consideration for the envoy’s weak sight. After ten minutes’ expectation the clock struck ten; at the fifth stroke the door opened and Lord Wilmore appeared. He was rather above the middle height, with thin reddish whiskers, light complexion and light hair, turning rather gray. He was dressed with all the English peculiarity, namely, in a blue coat, with gilt buttons and high collar, in the fashion of 1811, a white kerseymere waistcoat, and nankeen pantaloons, three inches too short, but which were prevented by straps from slipping up to the knee. His first remark on entering was:

“You know, sir, I do not speak French?”