“Well, I’ve made up my mind to increase his family by a niece!” the other replied. “He shall have the girl whether he likes it or not. Take a pen, man, and sit down. He’s spoiled my breakfast many a time with his confounded Writs of Error, or whatever you call them, and for once I’ll be even with him. Say—yes, Stubbs, say this:
“‘I am directed by Lord Audley to inform you that a young lady, believed to be a daughter of the late Mr. Peter Audley, and recently living in poverty in an obscure’—yes, Stubbs, say obscure—‘part of Paris, has been rescued by the benevolence of a Polish lady. For the present she is in the lady’s house in a menial capacity, and is dependent on her charity. Lord Audley is informed that the young lady made application to you without result, but this report his lordship discredits. Still, he feels himself concerned; and if those to whom she naturally looks decline to aid her, it is his lordship’s intention to make such provision as may enable her to live respectably. I am to inform you that Miss Audley’s address is the Hôtel Lambert, Ile St. Louis, Paris. Letters should be addressed “Care of the Housekeeper.”’”
“He won’t like the last touch!” the young man continued, with a quiet chuckle. “If that does not touch him on the raw, I’ll yield up the title to-morrow. And now, Stubbs, good-night.”
But Stubbs did not take the hint. “I want to say one word, my lord, about the borough—about Riddsley,” he said. “We put in Mr. Mottisfont at the last election, your lordship’s interest just tipping the scale. We think, therefore, that a word from you may set right what is going wrong.”
“What is it?”
“There’s a strong feeling,” the lawyer answered, his face serious, “that the party is not being led aright. And that Mr. Mottisfont, who is old——”
“Is willing to go with the party, eh, Stubbs?”
“No, my lord, with the party leaders. Which is a different thing. Sir Robert Peel—the land put him in, but, d—n me, my lord”—the lawyer’s manner lost much of its deference and he spoke bluntly and strongly—“it looks as if he were going to put the land out! An income-tax in peace time, we’ve taken that. And less protection for the farmer, very good—if it must be. But all this taking off of duties, this letting in of Canadian corn—I tell you, my lord, there’s an ugly feeling abroad! There are a good many in Riddsley say that he is going to repeal the Corn Laws altogether; that he’s sold us to the League, and won’t be long before he delivers us!”
The big man sitting back in his chair smiled. “It seems to me,” he said, “that you are travelling rather fast and rather far, Stubbs!”
“That’s just what we fear Sir Robert is doing!” the lawyer retorted smartly, the other’s rank forgotten. “And you may take it from me the borough won’t stand it, my lord, and the sooner Mr. Mottisfont has a hint the better. If he follows Peel too far, the bottom will fall out of his seat. There’s no Corn Law leaguer will ever sit for Riddsley!”