"And as for your friend, my lord, the,—the—. You know whom I mean. If I have given any offence it has only been because I've thought that as the title was certainly theirs, a young lady who shall be nameless ought to have the advantage of it. I've only done it because of my consideration for the family."
"What have you come here for, Mr. Crocker? I am not just now disposed to converse,—on, I may say, any subject. If there be anything—"
"Indeed, there is. Oh, my lord, they are going to dismiss me! For the sake of Paradise Row, my lord, pray, pray, interfere on my behalf." Then he told the whole story about the papers, merely explaining that they had been torn in accident. "Sir Boreas is angry with me because I have thought it right to call—you know whom—by his title, and now I am to be dismissed just when I was about to take that beautiful and accomplished young lady to the hymeneal altar. Only think if you and Miss Fay was to be divided in the same way!"
With much lengthened explanation, which was, however, altogether ineffectual, Lord Hampstead had to make his visitor understand that there was no ground on which he could even justify a request. "But a letter! You could write a letter. A letter from your lordship would do so much." Lord Hampstead shook his head. "If you were just to say that you had known me intimately down in Cumberland! Of course I am not taking upon myself to say it was so,—but to save a poor fellow on the eve of his marriage!"
"I will write a letter," said Lord Hampstead, thinking of it, turning over in his mind his own idea of what marriage would be to him. "I cannot say that we have been intimate friends, because it would not be true."
"No;—no; no! Of course not that."
"But I will write a letter to Sir Boreas. I cannot conceive that it should have any effect. It ought to have none."
"It will, my lord."
"I will write, and will say that your father is connected with my uncle, and that your condition in regard to your marriage may perhaps be accepted as a ground for clemency. Good day to you." Not very quickly, but with profuse thanks and the shedding of some tears, poor Crocker took his leave. He had not been long gone before the following letter was written;—
Sir,
Though I have not the honour of any acquaintance with you, I take the liberty of writing to you as to the condition of one of the clerks in your office. I am perfectly aware that should I receive a reprimand from your hands, I shall have deserved it by my unjustifiable interference.
Mr. Crocker represents to me that he is to be dismissed because of some act of which you as his superior officer highly disapprove. He asks me to appeal to you on his behalf because we have been acquainted with each other. His father is agent to my uncle Lord Persiflage, and we have met at my uncle's house. I do not dare to put this forward as a plea for mercy. But I understand that Mr. Crocker is about to be married almost immediately, and, perhaps, you will feel with me that a period in a man's life which should beyond all others be one of satisfaction, of joy, and of perfect contentment, may be regarded with a feeling of mercy which would be prejudicial if used more generally.
Your faithful servant,
Hampstead.