“When the Family Calas were about to be executed unjustly, with the consent of all the lawyers and statesmen in France, one man in a nation saw the error, and fought for the innocent, and saved them; and that one wise man in a nation of fools was a writer of fiction.”
“Oh! a learned Oxonian can always answer a poor ignorant thing like me. One swallow does not make summer, for all that.”
“But this writer's fictions are not like the novels you read; they are works of laborious research. Besides, he is a lawyer, as well as a novelist.”
“Oh, if he is a lawyer!”
“Then I may write?”
“Yes,” said Lady Bassett, despondingly.
“What is to become of Oldfield?”
“Send him to the drawing-room. I will go down and endure him for another hour. You can write your letter here, and then please come and relieve me of Mr. Negative.”
She rang, and ordered coffee and tea into the drawing-room; and Mr. Oldfield found her very cold company.
In half an hour Mr. Angelo came down, looking flushed and very handsome; and Lady Bassett had some fresh tea made for him.