"It was quite unexpected," said he, half in question,--"at least by me,"

added he, after a pause.

She saw that some suspicion--she knew not of what, and as possibly cared as little--agitated him, and she turned away to the breakfast-table without speaking. Beecher, however, led her back again to the window. "I 'd like much to ask you a question," said he, half timidly; "that is, if I did not fear you might take it ill."

"And there is such a risk, is there?" asked she.

"Well, it is just possible," faltered he.

"In that case, take my advice, and do not hazard it." There was a calm resolution in her tone that carried more weight with it than anything like passion, and Beecher felt in his heart that he dared not reject her counsel.

Lizzy had now taken her place at the breakfast-table, her air, look, and manner being all that could denote a mind perfectly easy and contented. So consummate, too, was her tact, that she gradually led the conversation into that tone of pleasant familiarity when frank opinions are expressed and people talk without restraint; and thus, without the semblance of an effort, she succeeded, while developing any agreeability Beecher possessed, in silencing her father, whose judgments of men and events were not always the safest. As for Twining, she perfectly fascinated him. He was no mean critic in all that regards dress and manners; few men could more unerringly detect a flaw in breeding or a solecism in address. Mere acting, however good, would never have imposed upon him, and all the polish of manner and the charm of a finished courtesy would have failed with him if unaccompanied by that "sentiment"

of good breeding which is its last and highest captivation. How subdued was all the flippant mockery of his manner! how respectful the tone in which he accosted her! It was the Viscountess, and not Grog Davis's daughter, he saw before him. Now Beecher saw all this, and a sense of pride swelled his heart, and made him almost forget his distrusts and suspicions. When breakfast was over, Lizzy, passing her arm within her father's, led him away. She had many things to say to him, and he to her, so that Beecher and Twining were left alone together.

"Well, Twining," said Annesley, as he lighted a cigar, "tell me frankly,--don't you think I might have done worse?"

"Impossible to have done better,--impossible!" said Twining. "I don't speak of her Ladyship's beauty, in which she surpasses all I have ever seen, but her manner--her courtesy--has a blending of grace and dignity that would confer honor on the most finished Court in Europe."

"I'm glad you say so, Twining; men quote _you_ as an authority on these things, and I own frankly I am delighted to have my own judgment so ratified."

"Her appearance in the world will be such a success as one has not seen for years!" exclaimed Twining.

"She'll be sharply criticised," said Beecher, puffing his cigar.

"She can well afford it, my Lord."

"What will the women say, Twining? She is _so_ good-looking,--what will the women say?"

"Where there's no rivalry, there will be no dispraise. She is so surpassingly beautiful that none will have courage to criticise; and if they should, where can they detect a fault?"

"I believe you are right, Twining,--I believe you are right," said Beecher, and his face glowed with pleasure as he spoke. "Where she got her manners I can't make out," added he, in a whisper.

"Ay, my Lord, these are Nature's own secrets, and she keeps them closely."

"It is the father--old Grog--is the difficulty," whispered Beecher, still lower; "what can be done with _him?_"

"Original, certainly; peculiar,--very peculiar,--what fun!" And Twining in an instant recovered all his wonted manner, and slapped away at his legs unmercifully.

"I don't exactly see the fun of it,--especially for me," said Beecher, peevishly.

"After all, a well-known man, my Lord,--public character,--a celebrity, so to say."

"Confound it!" cried Beecher, angrily, "don't you perceive there lies the whole annoyance? The fellow is known from one end of England to the other. You can't enter a club of a rainy day, when men sit round the fire, without hearing a story of him; you don't get to the third station on a railroad till some one says, 'Have you heard old Grog's last?'

There's no end to him?"

"Wonderful resources!--astonishing!--great fun!"

"I'll be hanged if it _is_ great fun, though you are pleased to say so,"

said Beecher, angrily.

Twining was far too good-tempered to feel hurt by this peevishness, and only rubbed his hands and laughed joyfully.

"And the worst of all," resumed Beecher,--"the worst of all is, he _will_ be a foreground figure; do what you may, he _will_ be in the front of the Stand-house."

"Get him a situation abroad, my Lord,--something in the colonies," broke in Twining.

"Not a bad thought that, Twining; only he is so notorious."

"Doesn't signify in the least, my Lord. Every office under the Crown has its penal settlements. The Foreign Office makes its culprits consuls; the Colonial sends their chief justices to the Gold Coast; and the Home Secretary's Botany Bay is Ireland."

"But would they really give me something,--I mean something he 'd take?"

"I have n't a doubt of it, my Lord; I wanted to get rid of a poor relation t' other day, and they made him a Boundary Commissioner at Baffin's Bay. Baffin's Bay!--what fun!" And he laughed immoderately.

"How am I to set about this, Twining? You are aware that up to this I have had no relations with politics or parties."

"Nothing easier, my Lord; always easy for a peer,--proxy often of great consequence. Write to the Premier,--hint that you are well disposed to adopt his views,--due maintenance of all the glorious privileges of our Constitution, with progressive improvement,--great fun, capital fun!

all the landmarks firm and fixed, and as much of your neighbor's farm as possible. Or if you don't like to do this, set Davenport Dunn at them; he is your Lordship's Irish agent,--at least, he was the late Viscount's,--he 'll do it,--none better, none so well!"

"That might be the best way," said Beecher, musing.

"He'll be charmed--delighted--overjoyed at this proof of your Lordship's confidence. He 'll go to work at once, and before your Lordship begins to receive, or go out, your amiable and most highly gifted father-in-law may be Income-tax Collector in Cochin-China."

"Now, there's only one thing more, Twining, which is, to induce Davis to agree to this. He likes Europe,--likes the life of England and the Continent."

"Certain he does,--quite sure of it; no man more calculated to appreciate society or adorn it. Capital fun!"

"Do you think," resumed Beecher, "that you could just throw out a hint--a slight suggestion--to see how he'd take it?"

"Come much better from your Lordship."

"Well, I don't know--that is, I half suspect--"

"Far better, infinitely better, my Lord; your own tact, your Lordship's good taste--Oh dear me, one o'clock already, and I have an appointment!"

And with the most profuse apologies for a hurried departure, and as many excuses to be conveyed to her Ladyship, Mr. Twining disappeared.

Although Twining's reluctance to carry into execution the tone of policy he suggested did not escape Beecher's penetration, the policy itself seemed highly recommendable. Grog out of Europe,--Grog beyond the seas, collecting taxes, imprisoning skippers, hunting runaway negroes, or flogging Caffres,--it mattered not, so that he never crossed his sight again. To be sure, it was not exactly the moment to persuade Davis to expatriate himself when his prospects at home began to brighten, and he saw his daughter a peeress. Still, Dunn was a fellow of such marvellous readiness, such astonishing resources! If any man could "hit off" the way here, it was he. And then, how fortunate! Grog was eagerly pressing Beecher to be accredited to this same Davenport Dunn; he asked that he might be sent to confer and negotiate with him about the pending action at law. What an admirable opportunity was this, then, for Dunn to sound Davis and, if occasion served, tempt him with an offer of place! Besides these reasons, valid and sound so far as they went, there was another impulse that never ceased to urge Beecher forward, and this was a vague shadowy sort of impression that if he could only succeed in his plan he should have outwitted Grog, and "done" _him_. There was a sense of triumph associated with this thought that made his heart swell with pride. In his passion for double-dealing, he began to think how he could effect his present purpose,--by what zigzag and circuitous road, through what tangled scheme of duplicity and trick. "I have it,--I have it,"

cried he at length; and he hastened to his dressing-room, and, having locked the door, he opened his writing-desk and sat down to write. But it is not at the end of a chapter I can presume to insert his Lordship's correspondence.

CHAPTER XXVII. OVERREACHINGS

Beecher did not amongst his gifts possess the pen of a ready writer; but there was a strange symmetry observable between the composition and the manual part. The lines were irregular, the letters variously sized, erasures frequent, blots everywhere, while the spelling displayed a spirit that soared above orthography. A man unused to writing, in the cares of composition, is pretty much in the predicament of a bad horseman in a hunting-field. He has a vague, indistinct motion of "where" he ought to go, without the smallest conception as to the "how."

He is balked or "pounded" at every step, always trying back, but never by any chance hitting off the right road to his object.

Above a dozen sheets of paper lay half scrawled over before him after two hours of hard labor, and there he still sat pondering over his weary task. His scheme was simply this: to write a few lines to Dunn, introducing his father-in-law, and instructing him to afford him all information and details as to the circumstances of the Irish property, it being his intention to establish Captain Davis in the position of his agent in that country; having done which, and given to Grog to read over, he meant to substitute another in its place, which other was confidentially to entreat of Dunn to obtain some foreign and far-away appointment for Davis, and by every imaginable means to induce him to accept it. This latter document Dunn was to be instructed to burn immediately after reading. In fact, the bare thought of what would ensue if Davis saw it, made him tremble all over, and aggravated all the difficulties of composition. Even the mode of beginning puzzled him, and there lay some eight or ten sheets scrawled over with a single line, thus: "Lord Lackington presents his compliments"--"The Viscount Lackington requests"--"Lord Lackington takes the present opportunity"--"Dear Dunn"--"Dear Mr. Dunn"--"My dear Mr. Dunn"--"Dear D." How nicely and minutely did he weigh over in his mind the value to be attached to this exordium, and how far the importance of position counterbalanced the condescension of close intimacy! "Better be familiar," said he, at last; "he 's a vulgar dog, and he 'll like it;"

and so he decided for "My dear Dunn."