“Better not, my Lord,” said Linton, dryly; “that is an admirable letter addressed to your friend, Lord Hindley; but in a blue book it won't read so well. Take my advice: hold on if you can, go if you must, but don't ask questions, at all events.”
“Perhaps you are right, Tom,” said Kilgoff, musing.
“Now for another point, my Lord; this visit to Mr. Cashel—”
“I 've declined it,” said Lord Kilgoff, reddening, and with a look of extreme irritation. “The note is there sealed on the table, and shall be sent within an hour.”
“I am not at liberty to ask your reasons, my Lord,” said Linton, gravely and respectfully, “but I am certainly free to state my own, why I think you ought most positively to go there.”
“You may, certainly,” said Lord Kilgoff, rising impatiently, and pacing the room; “I shall not interrupt you, but I shall also pledge myself not to let them influence me in the slightest degree. My mind is made up, sir.”
“Then I shall speak with more freedom,” said Linton, boldly; “because, having no pretension to change your sentiments, I am merely desirous to record my own.”
Lord Kilgoff made no reply, but continued his walk, while Linton resumed:—
“Now I see your impatience, my Lord, and will not trespass on it. Here, in three words, is my case. The borough of Drumkeeran returns a member to Parliament; Hebden, who represents it, is about to accept the Hundreds; Cashel owns the town.”
“And if he does, sir, what signifies it to me?” broke in Lord Kilgoff; “I have not the slightest influence over that gentleman's opinions. He was rude enough to give me a very flat contradiction in the only discussion we ever held together. I venture to assert, from what I have seen of him, that any direction of his course in Parliament would be totally impossible. He is self-willed, obstinate, and opinionated.”