“You remember that I gave you your seat?”
“You can have it back and welcome. I took my seat from you; but when it comes to right and wrong, I take orders only from my own conscience.”
“Advice, Squire, advice; I did not think of giving you orders.”
“Well, Duke, I am perhaps a little hasty; but I do not understand obstructing warfare. I am ready to attack the Bill, tooth and nail. I am ready to vote against it; but I do not think what you call ‘obstructing’ is fair and manly.”
“All things are fair in love and war, Squire; and this is a war to the knife-hilt for our own caste and privileges.”
Here there was a light tap at the door, and, in answer to the Duke’s “enter,” Annabel came in. She said a few words to him in a low voice, gave him a paper, and disappeared. But, short as the interview was, it put the Duke in a good temper. He looked after her with pride and affection, and said pleasantly,–
“Fight in your own way, Squire Atheling; it is sure to be a good, straight-forward fight. But the other way will be the tactics of our party, and you need not interfere with them. By-the-bye, Miss Vyner is a good deal at your house, I think.”
“She is always welcome. My daughter likes her company. We all do. She is both witty and pretty.”
“She is a great beauty–a particularly noble-looking beauty. She will make a fine Duchess, and my son is most fortunate in such an alliance; for she has money,–plenty of money,–and a dukedom is not kept up on nothing a year. Perhaps, however, this Reform Bill will eventually get rid of dukedoms and dukes, as it proposes to do with boroughs and members.”
The Squire did not immediately answer. He wanted a definite assertion about Lord Exham and Miss Vyner, and could not decide on words which would unsuspiciously bring it. Finally, he blurted out an inquiry as to the date of a marriage between them; and the Duke answered carelessly,–