His manner was
smooth and humble, but very sly and slinking. He wore the aspect of a
man who was always lying in wait for something that WOULDN'T come to
pass; but he looked patient--very patient--and fawned like a spaniel
dog. Even now, while he warmed and rubbed his hands before the blaze,
he had the air of one who only presumed to enjoy it in his degree as a
commoner; and though he knew his lord was not regarding him, he looked
into his face from time to time, and with a meek and deferential manner,
smiled as if for practice.
Such were the guests whom old John Willet, with a fixed and leaden
eye, surveyed a hundred times, and to whom he now advanced with a state
candlestick in each hand, beseeching them to follow him into a worthier
chamber. 'For my lord,' said John--it is odd enough, but certain people
seem to have as great a pleasure in pronouncing titles as their owners
have in wearing them--'this room, my lord, isn't at all the sort of
place for your lordship, and I have to beg your lordship's pardon for
keeping you here, my lord, one minute.'
With this address, John ushered them upstairs into the state apartment,
which, like many other things of state, was cold and comfortless.
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