“I suspect he'd not agree with you,” said his Lordship, bitterly. “I rather opine that Mr. Dunn has another and a very different estimate of his present position.”
“Such a life is certainly not enviable. Perhaps I'm wrong, though,” said she, quickly; “Miss Kellett does not seem of my mind.”
Sybella blushed slightly, and in some embarrassment said, “Certain minds find their best happiness in great labor; Mr. Dunn's may be one of these.”
“Pulteney found time for a cast with the hounds, and Charles Fox had leisure for his rubber of whist. It is these modern fellows have introduced the notion that 'the House' is like a 'mill at Manchester.' There goes one with his despatches,” cried he, as a mounted messenger rode off from the door. “I 'd wager a trifle that if they never came to hand the world would just jog on its course as pleasantly, and no one the worse for the mishap.”
“With Mr. Dunn's compliments, my Lord,” said a servant, placing several open letters on the table; “he thought your Lordship would like to see the latest news from the Crimea.”
While Lord Glengariff took out his spectacles, his face grew crimson, and he seemed barely able to restrain a burst of passionate indignation. As the servant closed the door, he could no longer contain himself, but broke out: “Just fancy their sending off these despatches to this fellow Dunn. Here am I, an Irish peer, of as good blood and ancient family as any in my country, and I might as well expect to hear Buckingham Palace was fitted up for my town residence when next I went to London, as look for an attention of this sort. If I had n't it here under my own eyes, and saw the address, 'Davenport Dunn, Esq.,' 'on her Majesty's service,' I 'd say flatly it was impossible.”
“May I read some of them?” asked Lady Augusta, wishing by any means to arrest this torrent of angry attack.
“Yes, read away,” cried he, laying down his spectacles. “Miss Kellett, too, may indulge her curiosity, if she has any, about the war.”
“I have a dearer interest at stake there,” said Sybella, blushing.
“I see little here we have not already read in the 'Times,'” said Lady Augusta, perusing the paper before her. “The old story of rifle-pits, sorties against working parties, the severity of the duty, and the badness of the commissariat.”