The Great House. Weyman Stanley John

with his back to the hearth. The stout man sat forward on his chair with an air of deference. His double chin rested on the ample folds of a soft white stock secured by a gold pin in the shape of a wheat-sheaf. He wore black knee-breeches and stockings, and his dress, though plain, bore the stamp of neatness and prosperity.

      For a minute or two Audley continued to look thoughtfully before him. At length, "May I take it that this claim is really at an end now?" he said. "Is the decision final, I mean?"

      "Unless new evidence crops up," Stubbs answered-he was a lawyer-"the decision is certainly final. With your lordship's signature to the papers I brought over-"

      "But the claimant might try again?"

      "Mr. John Audley might do anything," Stubbs returned. "I believe him to be mad upon the point, and therefore capable of much. But he could only move on new evidence of the most cogent nature. I do not believe that such evidence exists."

      His employer weighed this for some time. At length, "Then if you were in my place," he said, "you would not be tempted to hedge?"

      "To hedge?" the lawyer exclaimed, as if he had never heard the word before. "I am afraid I don't understand."

      "I will explain. But first, tell me this. If anything happens to me before I have a child, John Audley succeeds to the peerage? That is clear?"

      "Certainly! Mr. John Audley, the claimant, is also your heir-at-law."

      "To title and estates-such as they are?"

      "To both, my lord."

      "Then follow me another step, Stubbs. Failing John Audley, who is the next heir?"

      "Mr. Peter Audley," Stubbs replied, "his only brother, would succeed, if he were alive. But it is common ground that he is dead. I knew Mr. Peter, and, if I may say it of an Audley, my lord, a more shiftless, weak, improvident gentleman never lived. And obstinate as the devil! He married into trade, and Mr. John never forgave it-never forgave it, my lord. Never spoke of his brother or to his brother from that time. It was before the Reform Bill," the lawyer continued with a sigh. "There were no railways then and things were different. Dear, dear, how the world changes! Mr. Peter must have gone abroad ten years ago, but until he was mentioned in the suit I don't think that I had heard his name ten times in as many years. And he an Audley!"

      "He had a child?"

      "Only one, a daughter."

      "Would she come in after Mr. John?"

      "Yes, my lord, she would-if living."

      "I've been talking to her this evening."

      "Ah!" The lawyer was not so simple as he seemed, and for a minute or two he had foreseen the dénouement. "Ah!" he repeated, thoughtfully rubbing his plump calf. "I see, my lord. Mr. Peter Audley's daughter? Really! And if I may venture to ask, what is she like?"

      Audley paused before he answered. Then, "If you have painted the father aright, Stubbs, I should say that she was his opposite in all but his obstinacy. A calm and self-reliant young woman, if I am any judge."

      "And handsome?"

      "Yes, with a look of breeding. At the same time she is penniless and dependent, teaching English in a kind of charity school, cheek by jowl with a princess!"

      "God bless my soul!" cried the lawyer, astonished at last. "A princess!"

      "Who is a good creature as women go, but as likely as not to send her adrift to-morrow."

      "Tut-tut-tut!" muttered the other.

      "However, I'll tell you the story," Audley concluded. And he did so.

      When he had done, "Well," Stubbs exclaimed, "for a coincidence-"

      "Ah, there," the young man broke in, "I fancy, all's not said. I take it the Princess noted the name, but was too polite to question me. Anyway, the girl is there. She is dependent, friendless; attractive, and well-bred. For a moment it did occur to me-she is John Audley's heiress-that I might make all safe by-" His voice dropped. His last words were inaudible.

      "The chance is so very remote," said the lawyer, aware that he was on delicate ground, and that the other was rather following out his own thoughts than consulting him.

      "It is. The idea crossed my mind only for a moment-of course it's absurd for a man as poor as I am. There is hardly a poorer peer out of Ireland-you know that. Fourteenth baron without a roof to my house or a pane of glass in my windows! And a rent-roll when all is told of-"

      "A little short of three thousand," the lawyer muttered.

      "Two thousand five hundred, by God, and not a penny more! If any man ought to marry money, I am that man, Stubbs!"

      Mr. Stubbs, staring at the fire with a hand on each knee, assented respectfully. "I've always hoped that you would, my lord," he said, "though I've not ventured to say it."

      "Yes! Well-putting that aside," the other resumed, "what is to be done about her? I've been thinking it over, and I fancy that I've hit on the right line. John Audley's given me trouble enough. I'll give him some. I'll make him provide for her, d-n him, or I don't know my man!"

      "I'd like to know, my lord," Stubbs ventured thoughtfully, "why he didn't answer her letters. He hated her father, but it is not like Mr. John to let the young lady drift. He's crazy about the family, and she is his next heir. He's a lonely man, too, and there is room at the Gatehouse."

      Audley paused, half-way across the room. "I wish we had never leased the Gatehouse to him!"

      "It's not everybody's house, my lord. It's lonely and-"

      "It's too near Beaudelays!"

      "If your lordship were living at the Great House, quite so," the lawyer agreed. "But, as it is, the rent is useful, and the lease was made before our time, so that we have no choice."

      "I shall always believe that he had a reason for going there!"

      "He had an idea that it strengthened his claim," the lawyer said indulgently. "Nothing beyond that, my lord."

      "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, He 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