DIANA GAY

A Nobel

BY THE AUTHOR OF "BELLA DONNA," "NEVER FORGOTTEN,” ETC. ETC.

Book the Second

CHAPTER X. THE PETITION.

THE long galleries that stretch down by the committee-rooms of the House of Commons, and which are indeed vast anterooms, were filled with loungers and talkers, with men rushing backwards and forwards. There is perhaps more business there, and more depending on that business, than anywhere else in the world. A paradise, too, for lawyers and barristers. In their own hierarchy, they there rise many steps, there is no greater power, like judges, to control them or to require homage. How precious everything becomes once that portal is crossed: time, talent, name-everything except the suitor's money, which comes showering heavily into the laps of these legal

Danies.

At this period there were many petitions "on," and many committees sitting. Every little door that opened and shut down that endless series opened and shut on a terrible game of hazard going on within, on which many, many thousands were staked-a game indeed where there was inattention, sometimes sleep, oftener absence, oftener still stupidity, on the part of the croupiers who dealt. The only chances were in clever "cogging"-adroit management on the part of the players.

One of these rooms was labelled "Calthorpe Election Committee;" and outside it was a busy group-witnesses, attorneys, and a barrister or two. Richard Lugard, the sitting member, was very confident: sometimes he grew a little nervous, and frequently much fretted and provoked, by being harassed in this way. So amazing, too, after all his success, and with so many talking of it and congratulating him.

Here now it was beginning; and Begbie, Bligh's counsel, was "stating his case to the committee." That committee was composed of Sir Welbore Craven (chairman), Mr. Slater, Mr. Robins Gore. Mr. Bond, and Mr. W. C. M'Culloch, who were behind a horse-shoe fence. From behind that fence they looked out at a strange raffish crowdthe Calthorpians brought up from their district four days before (Sir Webore had been ill), and maintained at frightful cost in town.

There was Paget, Mr. Lugard's London solicitor, who found him money when he wanted it, and his Calthorpe solicitor, and his Calthorpe voters. And there were Bligh's solicitors and his voters, and, as we have said, Begbie, Q.C., stating his case. Begbie was a dry, thin-voiced little man, but who was known to be exquisitely artful. He was in a great deal of business, but generally contrived to give apparently a deal of time to each case. With him were others,-Sloper, an admirable junior-Oliver, who was spoken of as "rising," "promising," "safe," and who was "getting into leading business." The old committeechairman always used to say when the leader had "to fly," and an apology was made by the junior for his taking the matter up, "The case will suffer nothing in your hands, Mr. Oliver; we always hear you with pleasure and instruction."

Mr. Lugard had not been so fortunate. By desperate exertion they had got hold of Legge, Q.C., who was wholly in parliamentary practice, and really spent his time and professional service in flying down the corridor from one room to another, his gown spread like a mainsail, and clerks hanging on to the rigging. By the aid of such "mainsheets" he was dragged into a hot and steaming room, packed with his fellow-creatures-all whose faces were turned on him to hear what he would say to get them out of the knot they were waiting for him to untie; a knot requiring teeth and nails to open at any time, but which he must pick open impromptu, as it were, or make a pretence of opening: an eager mouth being at each ear pouring in various recipes. Sometimes the point has "gone off," or been solved, during the absence of the agitated express; and when the great deliverer arrives it is over. Then his face grows distrait-he whispers, he takes a note, but he is out of his element. He can do nothing except under high pressure. He is looking to the door; and in a moment a wild attorney is tearing in-rushing, tumbling over everyone. Legge, to his relief, knows he is wanted. Behind the back of his hand he tells the panicstruck junior to "get out" something, and "press him on the mesne rates,"-then spreads the mainsail; and he is away before the gale to the room where the Gas Question is being brought out. Lugard sees with infinite impatience that he is not there, and that he will not hear a syllable of Begbie's damaging speech, which trails on for three quarters of an hour, and at last concludes. It is scandalous; and yet "that fellow" has been retained at some frightful sum, and will have to be "refreshed" on a scale which it is only etiquette should correspond to the magnitude of the retainer.

Here are the witnesses being examined by Simpson, Q.C.; and certainly Lugard now begins to be amazed and frightened by some of their revelations. Why was this concealed from him? There could be no mistaking the stolid faces of the corrupt Calthorpe voters, their provincial dialect, and their confession candidly made "how Mr. had come to their wives, when they themselves were out, and had pro

mised this and that; and with a smiling, pleasant face Mr. had shown the greatest interest in the family and the children;" and tches he had gone away, the strange and amazing phenomenon was dis covered of a bank-note for fifty pounds being discovered on the chimneypiece. The cross-examination of this witness by Legge was admirable. "Was it such a wonderful sight? Had he never seen such a natural curiosity as a fifty-pound bank-note ?"-a supposition that was indignantly rejected.

Sometimes the two leaders got into a quarrel, and seemed to regard the efforts of the chairman to compose their differences with contempt; Lugard hovering about, bursting out into the gallery for air, scarcely able to contain himself, as some new witness came up. "They're paid these fellows themselves," he said; "it's a conspiracy." Bligh did not appear. "He pretends to be indifferent-it's not worth his while." But Bligh was really busy; engaged in a heavy case, which he could not leave.

Begbie, Q.C., "that little wasp," as some of his brethren called him, made a most characteristic and damaging speech, which turned Lugard pale. But towards the end of the day his own counsel had his turn, and with masterly skill "showed up" the "conspiracy," as he persisted in calling it. He "shattered" the case of the other side-pounding it into fragments, as with blows of a sledge-hammer. Lugard's spirits rose with every change: his eager face, now exhibiting triumph, now scorn, emphasised every turn of the speaker. What provoked him was the behaviour of the members of the committee. One was writing letters, one was reading letters; a third would get up to go out, and had been away now nearly half-an-hour. Sometimes there was whispering and "jokes." It was scandalous, he thought-such interests being at stake.

At last, however, the evidence, speeches, all came to an end, and the order was given to clear the room. The committee were to consider their decision. Lugard, flushed, excited, half-frantic, hung about the corridor, talked to his solicitor, could scarcely, as he said, "keep his soul in his body," waiting to hear the verdict.

CHAPTER XI.

A PROPOSAL.

AGAIN we return to the little heroine of this story-to her happy days and pleasant nights, as she carried on this fashionable and seductive campaign. With her youth and spirits-though she was not robust-it was not so difficult: and there is many a frail, and perhaps consumptive, factory - girl who goes through double the work, has less sleep, and less food. But for Lady Margaret it was more wonderful. Her secret was having no anxieties; she had no daughters to

"put out;" she was not "gaming," so to speak-playing desperately high stakes, for a few seasons, in the hope of the matrimonial dice turning up sixes for her and hers. She was full of the agreeable juices of nature: if she dined out, she dined well, and enjoyed the meal; if she went to the ball, there were the young men-their own little legion -who were more affectionately solicitous about her supper, than if they had been her sons. Indeed she found "going out" very pleasant; and as she knew that she would have Diana but a short time under her care, she had already pitched on another young lady, equally friendless, and nearly equally desirable in every way, with whom she designed to remplacer her present client. So have noble ladies looked out, we are told, for a suitable orphan to adopt.

Hers was a very sensible mind, and, for a woman of fashion, full of fair principles and inclined to fair dealing. As we have mentioned, she had long since seen and candidly owned to herself "that nothing was to be done with Canning." Diana, indeed, as we have said, had all but told her what her private feelings were to that gentleman.

Next to winning a battle for herself, the true entrepreneuse in these matters loves the glory of victory for itself. There was great glory in clambering up the breach and carrying off the coronet. Such success wins reputation, if not substantial personal profit. With this view, from the very beginning she had marked young Lord Patmore, and had even fixed a time for the escalade. That noble youth was indeed in a sad way. He dearly adored Diana; and he would have liked nothing better than to have gone on in this delightful elysium-as who would not? -for years. He would have liked, too, to have laid his coronet at her feet, according to the old-fashioned phrase; for so engaging, so charming a young creature he thought he had never seen yet. But then he was afraid of "making a fool of himself;" and there were familiars in the regiment, and especially Major Bellamy, whose knowledge of the world and sarcastic good common-sense remarks he quite dreaded.

Major Bellamy was very severe on him, and at balls and such places always "had his eye on him."

"Why, Pat," he would say, "you are as fresh and green as a new oyster off the beds! You should have a nurse after you, and a go

cart."

"Pat" would screw his glass into his eye, and foolishly ask, "Wh-why so?"

"Because the whole town sees it; because you are regularly caught by that girl and her scheming chaperone."

"No, I'm not; nothing of the kind.”

"They give it out, then. They know who they are dealing with, my friend. Why, usedn't you to tell us, child, when you first came, you were fifteenth baron, and had fifty years' minority, and could pick and choose where you liked?"

"Well, and it's the truth; you know it is-now."

"I know it is! D'ye hear Pat talking like a Solomon! Why, the whole town is looking at you; and after being put into the Cuckoo-"

On this allusion Patmore turned very red indeed. The Cuckoo was the new paper supposed to be maintained by witty gentlemen in the public offices, who furnished fun, and jokes, and private information merely as an amusement. So far "it had paid" very well; but the novelty was wearing off, and the information about naming marriages, political changes, &c., growing very meagre indeed; so much so, that they were driven to speculation, and less reliable sources of information.

It was a fact that some such notice of Patmore's coming alliance was actually figuring in the current number of the week. He was at once shown on the first page, under a little sketch of a cuckoo dressed for a ball, with an opera-glass and crush hat-an announcement that brought the colour to his cheeks:

"We are authorised to announce that Lord Bagnio will be the new Steward of the Household.

"Sir John Chaunter has resigned the Mastership of the Furzeby Hounds.

"A marriage is arranged between Viscount Patmore and Miss Diana Gay, of Gay Court."

The fright, the annoyance of the noble youth was incredible. For the first time in his life he seemed to know what trouble and anxiety were. Worse again was "the persecution" he had to endure, everybody "bothering" and congratulating fifty times in the day. Worse again was the affected compassion of his older friends and brethren, who said, "Poor Pat! I warned you, recollect."

One would have thought that a young girl pretty and engaging, with so handsome a fortune, would have suited this young gentleman. But he had really come to think that the most splendid heiress in England, with a title and great ducal connection, would be what he must eventually look for.

Diana soon heard of this announcement, and was greatly diverted. She looked forward to that night when she would meet the young lord at a ball; for these young people met somewhere every day, just as if they were stopping in the same house, and "they would have such a laugh over it." The young lord came to the ball; but she soon noticed he had a shy and scared look. Indeed he came up and went through a sort of" duty dance," but was "short" in his answers, and eager to get away. The faintest change of this sort is perceptible, and Diana understood it all in a second, as much as though he had come up and

told her.

The quick eye of General Lady Margaret also saw how things were. "He is frightened," she said to herself, "mean little cub! She's far too good for him.”