CHAPTER IV.
MR. BUMBLECASE, a word with you—I have a little business.
Farewell, the goodly Manor of Blackacre, with all its woods,
underwoods, and appurtenances whatever.—WYCHERLEY: Plain Dealer.
IN quitting Fenton's Hotel, Lord Vargrave entered into one of the clubs in St. James's Street: this was rather unusual with him, for he was not a club man. It was not his system to spend his time for nothing. But it was a wet December day; the House was not yet assembled, and he had done his official business. Here, as he was munching a biscuit and reading an article in one of the ministerial papers—the heads of which he himself had supplied—Lord Saxingham joined and drew him to the window.
"I have reason to think," said the earl, "that your visit to Windsor did good."
"Ah, indeed; so I fancied."
"I do not think that a certain personage will ever consent to the ——- question; and the premier, whom I saw to-day, seems chafed and irritated."
"Nothing can be better; I know that we are in the right boat."
"I hope it is not true, Lumley, that your marriage with Miss Cameron is broken off; such was the on dit in the club, just before you entered."
"Contradict it, my dear lord,—contradict it. I hope by the spring to introduce Lady Vargrave to you. But who broached the absurd report?"
"Why, your protege, Legard, says he heard so from his uncle, who heard it from Sir John Merton."