cle, who having business at the office of the Premier, sent in his name to Mr. Grantley, who, we may remember, had so moved De Vere's pride in a former chapter, and from whom Lord Mowbray expected instant admittance. But to his great annoyance, (as De Vere was with him,) as well as to De Vere's own astonishment, no haste was made to comply with his expectation.

'Tis true, there were people there before him; but the confidant made little effort to dismiss them, or in any way to save a person of Lord Mowbray's rank and situation the trouble of waiting; and as there was no ante-chamber, he was left to consume the time in the common lobby among the messengers.

De Vere was struck with the disrespect, and not a little surprised at the equanimity with which it was borne.

I

"These people," said Lord Mowbray, "are come to the minister upon some matter of importance. will take a newspaper, and wait in Mr. Betterton's snug room till I can be received.”

So saying, though naturally proud, like a well disciplined orderly, he took up his abode in the closet of a clerk, till it was convenient to see him.

Not so De Vere, who paced the dark and gloomy passages in no very patient mood, wondering how this trial of dependance (for so he thought it) was to end. Now the confidant's door was a-jar, (a dangerous thing for a confidant's door to be,) and we may judge De Vere's astonishment, when he heard his uncle mentioned by name, and in such terms as the following, by Mr. Grantley:

"Oh! never mind him; he is the greatest nuisance on earth, and so I know the minister thinks him: he can easily wait, for he loves his place too well to be affronted."

"He gives you a cursed deal of trouble," observed Grantley's companion.

"More by half than he is worth," replied Grantley himself; for we feel him a millstone about our necks."

A laugh followed, and the laugh and the speeches

went deep into the heart of De Vere. A thunderbolt could scarcely have astounded him more, and he flung away from the office, without staying to inform or take leave of his uncle, whom he thought of with mingled feelings of pity and disgust.

"Is it possible," said he, "that the Lord of Castle Mowbray is come to this? A feeble, willing slave, not to a minister, but to a satellite; a major-domo, who depends upon his master's breath for existence,-who may be worshipped to-day, or crushed to-morrow; and yet is able to hold a peer of the realm in such vile and degrading dependance. Alas! what is become of the blood of the Mowbrays? what of the father of the high-minded Constance? Ah Talbois! my loved forest retreat, where I have wandered without danger of affront, how much sweeter would be poverty with thee, than all the sweets of office coupled with such dependance!"

With this he wandered into the park, to breathe more freely, meaning to return to his uncle, to inform him of the affront. But when he returned, his uncle was gone. As a dernier resource, he hastened back to Sir William, whose house was at hand, and, informing him of the circumstance, abruptly asked him if his uncle ought not to resign.

"What," said the cautious official, "before he has even complained to the master, of the impertinence of

the man ?"

Now, perhaps the good Sir William felt as Lord North did in after-times, and did not comprehend the dignity of resigning. He at least thought Lord Mowbray would not do so; and so he told his nephew.

Yet there have been such things," said De Vere. "Talked of," answered Sir William, "but the practice is different. Assure yourself, however, that the Premier ought to bear no part of your blame. There is an uprightness about him, which would never let him think of such a conduct, and a greatness which could not stoop to it, if he did. I can answer for it, he would be sore displeased if he knew it. But, at any rate, your uncle does not complain."

"He does not know the insult," cried De Vere.

"My good young friend," replied Sir William, "do not let us be too sure that he would resent it, if he did."

De Vere absolutely stared, and looked almost displeased at his adviser.

"In Ireland," said he, "I have heard that a Lord Lieutenant himself has been called to the field, for even not immediately seeing a nobleman who had waited upon him."

"We cannot," said Flowerdale, smiling, "in this more prudent climate of ours, reason upon the maxims of our warm-hearted neighbours. What I mean is, that Lord Mowbray is too experienced a man of business, to let it be interrupted by the mere flippancy of an inferior person who has forgotten himself.

"But Mr. Grantley, in one sense, is scarcely his inferior, and must speak the mind of his superiors. I shall certainly feel wanting to my uncle, and even to myself, if I do not inform him."

"Shall I tell you honestly," said Flowerdale, "what will happen? He will not thank you."

"What! not for giving him an opportunity of asserting his honour!"

"At present," returned Flowerdale, "he knows not that it is injured; and you will only involve him in a most uneasy dilemma by informing him."

"Why?"

"He must either make the thing personal in the Irish way you talk of, which, I suppose, you do not

"Certainly not."

"Or insist upon Mr. Grantley's being dismissed, which is, probably, what you do mean.'

"It is."

"It is this, then, for which he will not thank you; for a prime-minister's confidant is not so easily removed."

"I would then remove myself," cried De Vere.

"That would be the worst of all," returned Flowerdale. "But it seems you know not how Christian and forgiving we inferior placemen sometimes are; insomuch, that Dryden, as I believe it is, says, 'Poli

ticians neither love nor hate.' But you have, as I have told you, much to learn."

"It seems so," answered De Vere; "but I must learn much, indeed, before I submit to withhold this affront from the Earl of Mowbray, let him deal with it as he may." Upon this he left the experienced and mild-minded Baronet, and was only deterred from urging his uncle to take instant vengeance on the offensive Grantley, by the new and important events which had by this time occurred.

CHAPTER VII.

SOUNDING.

For 'tis the sport to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petar.

SHAKSPEARE.

MR. GRANTLEY not being able to see Lord Mow, bray when he called, received, soon afterwards, a visit from Clayton.

It was a visit which Clayton was fond of paying, for they were kindred spirits. The success and influence of Mr. Grantley at head-quarters, had, indeed, become the object of Mr. Clayton's fondest admiration.

Mr. Grantley, however, had not yet sufficiently fathomed the mind and heart of his admirer, to open himself much to him. The confidant of Lord Mowbray was not in too good odour with him; and, as Clayton was known to owe his introduction to the official world entirely to De Vere, the visit was, just at that moment, from political circumstances, not peculiarly agreeable. But Mr. Grantley had seen and observed enough of the parvenu, to be above fearing his visit, on account of any very devoted attachment which he might be supposed to owe to his early friend; and a

very few words brought the two gentlemen to a right understanding with one another on this point.

Mr. Clayton, in fact, opened the conference, by lamenting the impracticable, and, as he called it, the moody nature of a man he so much loved as De Vere. "I have observed it," said Grantley, "and would not have him show this spirit towards the Minister, or in Parliament, for the world.”

"To tell you the truth, his uncle fears it as much as we do, and it is for this purpose I have waited upon you, by his desire; for the time is come when in honour I ought to vacate the seat which I only hold for Mr. De Vere as rightful possessor-if, indeed, he at present is rightful possessor."

The Minister's minister caught at this speech, and listened with greedy interest to what followed of the reported spirit in the borough; a spirit which (if even the report was correct) he had too much penetration not to perceive had been fostered, if not generated, by Clayton himself: he, however, complimented him upon his ability, as well as commended him for his constancy to what he called his early friendships, and agreed with him in being sorry to think, that to vacate under such circumstances might be dangerous. The difficulty, however, was how to dispose De Vere not to

come in.

It was to this that Clayton precisely wished to bring the confidant, and then, seeing every thing exactly ripe, he mentioned the thought which Lord Mowbray, he said, had first conceived, to embark De Vere in diplomacy, which might give him all that honourable ambition could covet; and in the mean time, as his uncle said, by sending him abroad, keep him out of harm's way.

Mr. Grantley could not help admiring the exquisite ingenuity of the young politician. He said it was an excellent thought, and that he would lay it before his chief, as soon as he could lay any thing, but that at present he was so great a martyr to his disorder that he could listen to nothing.

Clayton fastened upon this with great interest, and observed, as if, however, by chance or sudden recol