“Are they indeed?” said the bishop, turning sharply round; for the theme of health was one that engaged all his sympathies; and although his short apron covered a goodly rotundity of form, eating exacted to the full as many pains as it afforded pleasures to the Churchman.
“Yes, my Lord,” said Hickman, highly gratified to obtain such exalted notice; “there's an essential oil in them that destroys the mucous membrane—”
“Destroys the mucous membrane!” said the bishop, interrupting him.
“Mine is pretty much in that way already,” said Lord Beerhaven, querulously; “five-and-twenty minutes past six.”
“No, no, my dear Darcy,” said Lord Drogheda, who, having drawn the Knight aside, was speaking in an earnest but low tone, “I never was easier in my life, on the score of money; don't let the thing give you any trouble; consult Gleeson about it, he's a clever fellow, and take your own time for the payment.”
“Gleeson is a clever fellow, my Lord, but there are straits that prove too much even for his ingenuity.”
“Ah! I know what you mean,” said Lord Drogheda, secretly, “you 've heard of that Spanish-American affair,—yes, he made a bad hit there; some say he'll lose fifty thousand by it.”
Dinner was at this moment announced, and the Knight was unable to learn further on a subject the little he had heard of which gave him great sorrow. Unfortunately, too, his position at table was opposite, not next, to Lord Drogheda, and he was thus compelled to wait for another opportunity of interrogating him.
Lord Castlereagh has left behind him one reputation which no political or party animosity has ever availed to detract from, that of being the most perfect host that ever dispensed the honors of a table. Whatever seeming reserve or coldness he maintained at other times, here he was courteous to cordiality; his manner, the happy union of thorough good-breeding and friendly ease. Gifted with a most retentive memory, and well versed on almost every topic that could arise, he possessed that most difficult art, the power of developing the resources and information of others, without ever making any parade of his own acquirements; or, what is still harder, without betraying the effort which, in hands less adroit, becomes the most vulgar of all tricks, called “drawing out.”
With all these advantages, and well suited as he was to meet every emergency of a social meeting, he felt on the present occasion far less at ease than was his wont. The party was one of Heffernan's contriving,—the elements were such as he himself would never have dreamed of collecting together,—and he relied upon his “ancient” to conduct the plan he had so skilfully laid down. It was, as he muttered to himself, “Heffernan's Bill,” and he was not coming forward to explain its provisions or state its object.