“ALFRED PERCY.”
Notwithstanding the pains which Mrs. Falconer took to engage these Mr. Clays to accompany her, she could obtain only a promise that they would wait upon her, if possible, some time during the recess.
Count Altenberg also, much to Mrs. Falconer’s disappointment, was detained in town a few days longer than he had foreseen, but he promised to follow Lord Oldborough early in the ensuing week. All the rest of the prodigious party arrived at Falconer-court, which was within a few miles of Lord Oldborough’s seat at Clermont-park.
The day after Lord Oldborough’s arrival in the country, his lordship was seized with a fit of the gout, which fixed in his right hand. Commissioner Falconer, when he came in the morning to pay his respects, and to inquire after his patron’s health, found him in his study, writing a letter with his left hand. “My lord, shall not I call Mr. Temple—or—could I offer my services as secretary?”
“I thank you, sir—no. This letter must be written with my own hand.”
Whom can this letter be to, that is of so much consequence? thought the commissioner; and glancing his eye at the direction, he saw, as the letter was given to a servant, “To L. Percy, Esq.”—his surprise arrested the pinch of snuff which he was just going to take. “What could be the business—the secret—only a few lines, what could they contain?”
Simply these words
“MY DEAR SIR,
“I write to you with my left hand, the gout having, within these few hours, incapacitated my right. Since this gout keeps me a prisoner, and I cannot, as I had intended, go to you, may I beg that you will do me the favour to come to me, if it could suit your convenience, to-morrow morning, when I shall be alone from twelve till four.
“With true esteem,