“Why, the insolent upstart has not even listened to what was said to him. My harbor! He takes it for granted that we were wanting to make this a packet station for America, and he goes on to say that the place has none of the requisite qualifications,—no depth of water! I wish the fellow were at the bottom of it! Really, this is intolerable. Here is a long lecture to me not to be misled by those 'speculation-mongers who are amongst the rife products of our age.' I ask you, if you ever heard of impertinence like that? This fellow—the arch-charlatan of his day, the quack par excellence of his nation—dares to warn me against the perils of his class and kindred! Only listen to this, Gusty,” cried he, bursting into a fit of half-angry laughter: “'I am disposed to think that, by drawing closer to the present party in power, you could serve your interests much more effectively than by embarking in any schemes of mere material benefit. Allington'—he actually calls him Allington!—'dropped hints to this effect in a confidential conversation we held last evening together, and I am in hopes that, when we meet, you will enter into our views.' Are the coronets of the nobility to be put up to sale like the acres of the squirearchy? or what is it this fellow is driving at?” cried he, flinging down the letter in a rage, and walking up and down the room. “The rule of O'Connell and his followers was mild and gentle and forbearing, compared with the sway of these fellows. In the one case we had a fair stand-up fight,—opinion met opinion, and the struggle was an open one; but here we have an organized association to investigate the state of our resources, to pry into our private affairs, learning what pressure bears upon us here, what weak spot gives way there. They hold our creditors in leash, to slip them on us at any moment; and the threat of a confiscation—for it is just that, and nothing less—is unceasingly hanging over us!”
He stopped short in his torrent of passion, for the white sail of a small fishing-craft that just showed in the offing suddenly diverted his thoughts to that vision of prosperity he so lately revelled in,—that pleasant dream of a thriving watering-place, bright, sunny, and prosperous, the shore dotted with gayly caparisoned donkeys, and the sea speckled with pleasure-boats. All the elements of that gay Elysium came up before him,—the full tide of fortune setting strongly in, and coming to his feet. Galbraith, who revelled in millions, whose rapid calculations rarely descended to ignoble thousands, had constantly impressed upon him that if Dunn only took it up, the project was already accomplished. “He'll start you a company, my Lord, in a week; a splendid prospectus and an admirable set of names on the direction, with a paid-up capital, to begin with, of—say £30,000. He knows to a nicety how many Stock Exchange fellows, how many M.P.'s, how many county gentlemen to have. He 'll stick all the plums in the right place too; and he'll have the shares quoted at a premium before the scrip is well out in the market. Clever fellow, my Lord,—vastly clever fellow, Dunn!” And so the Earl thought, too, till the letter now before him dashed that impression with disappointment.
“I 'll tell you what it is, Gusty,” said he, after a pause,—“we must ask him down here. It is only by an actual inspection of the bay that he can form any just conception of the place. You must write to him for me. This gouty knuckle of mine makes penwork impossible. You can say—Just find a sheet of paper, and I 'll tell you what to say.” Now, the noble Earl was not as ready at dictation as he had fancied; for when Lady Augusta had opened her writing-desk, arranged her writing-materials, and sat, pen in hand, awaiting his suggestions, he was still pacing up and down the room, muttering to himself in broken and unconnected phrases, quite unsuited to the easy flow of composition. “I suppose, Gusty,—I take it for granted,—you must begin, 'My dear sir,'—eh?—or, perhaps, better still, 'Dear Mr. Dunn.'”
“'Dear Mr. Dunn,'” said she, not looking up from the paper, but quietly retouching the last letters with her pen.
“But I don't see why, after all, we should follow this foolish lead,” said he, proudly. “The acceptance he meets from others need not dictate to us, Gusty. I 'd say, 'The Earl of Glengariff'—or, 'I am requested by Lord Glen-gariff—'”
“'My father, Lord Glengariff,'” interposed she, quietly.
“It sounds more civilly, perhaps. Be it so;” and again he walked up and down, in the same hard conflict of composition. At length he burst forth: “There 's nothing on earth more difficult than addressing a man of this sort. You want his intimacy without familiarity. You wish to be able to obtain the benefit of his advice, and yet not incur the infliction of his dictation. In fact, you are perfectly prepared to treat him as a valued guest, provided he never lapses into the delusion that he is your friend. Now, it would take old Metternich to write the sort of note I mean.”
“If I apprehend you, your wish is to ask him down here on a visit of a few days, with the intimation that you have a matter of business to communicate—”
“Yes, yes,” said he, impatiently, “that's very true. The business part of the matter should come in incidentally, and yet the tone of the invitation be such as to let him distinctly understand that he does not come without an express object Now you have my meaning, Gusty,” said he, with the triumphant air of one who had just surmounted a difficulty.
“If I have, then, I am as far as ever from knowing how to convey it,” said she, half peevishly. “I'd simply say, 'Dear Sir,' or, 'Dear Mr. Dunn,—There is a question of great moment to myself, on which your advice and counsel would be most valuable to me. If you could spare me the few days a visit would cost you, and while giving us the great pleasure of your society—'”