“—GOLDENCALF, Esquire.”
“Monday evening.”
I begged that the noble visitor might not be made to wait a moment. Lord Pledge met me like an old and intimate friend. He made a hundred handsome inquiries after my dead ancestor; spoke feelingly of his regret at not having been summoned to attend his death-bed; and then very ingenuously and warmly congratulated me on my succession to so large a property.
“I hear, too, you have bought this borough, my dear sir. I could not make it convenient just at this particular moment to conclude my own arrangement—but it is a good thing. Three hundred and twenty thousand, I suppose, as was mentioned between me and the other party?”
“Three hundred and twenty-five thousand, Lord Pledge.”
I perceived by the countenance of the noble candidate that I had paid the odd five thousand as a fine—a circumstance which accounted for the promptitude of the attorney in the transaction, he most probably pocketing the difference himself.
“You mean to sit, of course?”
“I do, my lord, as one of the members, at the next general election; but at present I shall be most happy to aid your return.”
“My dear Mr. Goldencalf—”
“Really, without presuming to compliment, Lord Pledge, the noble sentiments I heard you express this morning were so very proper, so exceedingly statesmanlike, so truly English, that I shall feel infinitely more satisfaction in knowing that you fill the vacant seat than if it were in my own possession.”