Mr. Hardwicke replied that he had never heard a Ba.s.sett called a blackguard before, and had seen nothing in Mr. Ba.s.sett to justify an epithet so unusual among gentlemen. "And, to be frank with you, Sir Charles," said he, "I think this bitterness against a poor gentleman, whose estates you are so fortunate as to possess, is not consistent with your general character, and is, indeed, unworthy of you."

To this Sir Charles Ba.s.sett replied:

"DEAR MR. HARDWICK--You have applied some remarks to me which I will endeavor to forget, as they were written in entire ignorance of the truth. But if we are to remain friends, I expect you to believe me when I tell you that Mr. Richard Ba.s.sett has never been wronged by me or mine, but has wronged me and Lady Ba.s.sett deeply. He is a dishonorable scoundrel, not ent.i.tled to be received in society; and if, after this a.s.surance, you receive him, I shall never darken your doors again. So please let me know your decision.

"I remain

"Yours truly,

"CHARLES d.y.k.e Ba.s.sETT."

Mr. Hardwicke chafed under this; but Prudence stepped in. He was one of the county members, and Sir Charles could command three hundred votes.

He wrote back to say he had received Sir Charles's letter with pain, but, of course, he could not disbelieve him, and therefore he should invite Mr. Ba.s.sett no more till the matter was cleared.

But Mr. Hardwicke, thus brought to book, was nettled at his own meanness; so he sent Sir Charles's letter to Mr. Richard Ba.s.sett.

Ba.s.sett foamed with rage, and wrote a long letter, raving with insults, to Sir Charles.

He was in the act of directing it when Wheeler called on him. Ba.s.sett showed him Sir Charles's letter. Wheeler read it.

"Now read what I say to him in reply."

Wheeler read Ba.s.sett's letter, threw it into the fire, and kept it there with the poker.

"Lucky I called," said he, dryly. "Saved you a thousand pounds or so.

You must not write a letter without me."

"What, am I to sit still and be insulted? You're a pretty friend."

"I am a wise friend. This is a more serious matter than you seem to think."

"Libel?"

"Of course. Why, if Sir Charles had consulted _me,_ I could not have dictated a better letter. It closes every c.h.i.n.k a defendant in libel can creep out by. Now take your pen and write to Mr. Hardwicke."

"DEAR SIR--I have received your letter, containing a libel written by Sir Charles Ba.s.sett. My reply will be public.

"Yours very truly,

"RICHARD Ba.s.sETT."

"Is that all?"

"Every syllable. Now mind; you never go to Hardwicke House again; Sir Charles has got you banished from that house; special damage! There never was a prettier case for a jury--the rightful heir foully slandered by the possessor of his hereditary estates."

This picture excited Ba.s.sett, and he walked about raving with malice, and longing for the time when he should stand in the witness-box and denounce his enemy.

"No, no," said Wheeler, "leave that to counsel; you must play the mild victim in the witness-box. Who is the defendant solicitor? We ought to serve the writ on him at once."

"No, no; serve it on himself."

"What for? Much better proceed like gentlemen."

Ba.s.sett got in a pa.s.sion at being contradicted in everything. "I tell you," said he, "the more I can irritate and exasperate this villain the better. Besides, he slandered me behind my back; and I'll have the writ served upon himself. I'll do everything I can to take him down. If a man wants to be my lawyer he must enter into my feelings a little."

Wheeler, to whom he was more valuable than ever now, consented somewhat reluctantly, and called at Huntercombe Hall next day with the writ, and sent in his card.

Lady Ba.s.sett heard of this, and asked if it was Mr. Ba.s.sett's friend.

The butler said he thought it was.

Lady Ba.s.sett went to Sir Charles in his study. "Oh, my dear," said she, "here is Mr. Ba.s.sett's lawyer."

"Well?"

"Why does he come here?"

"I don't know."

"Don't see him."

"Why not?"

"I am so afraid of Mr. Ba.s.sett. He is our evil genius. Let me see this person instead of you. _May_ I?"

"Certainly not."

"Might I see him _first,_ love?"

"You will not see him at all."

"Charles!"

"No, Bella; I cannot have these animals talking to my wife."

"But, dear love, I am so full of forebodings. You know, Charles, I don't often presume to meddle; but I am in torture about this man. If you receive him, may I be with you? Then we shall be two to one."

"No, no," said Sir Charles, testily. Then, seeing her beautiful eyes fill at the refusal and the unusual tone, he relented. "You may be in hearing if you like. Open that door, and sit in the little room."