Lord Kilgobbin Part 84

'You only antic.i.p.ate my own sincere desire.'

As they pa.s.sed slowly through the garden, Atlee stopped and said: 'Had I been able to tell my lord, "The Prince is just named special envoy at Constantinople. The Turks are offended at something he has done in Crete or Thessaly. Without certain pressure on the Divan they will not receive him.

Will your lords.h.i.+p empower me to say that you will undertake this, and, moreover, enable me to a.s.sure him that all the cost and expenditure of his outfit shall be met in a suitable form?" If, in fact, you give me your permission to submit such a basis as this, I should leave Athens far happier than I feel now.'

'The Chamber has already voted the outfit. It is very modest, but it is enough. Our national resources are at a low ebb. You might, indeed--that is, if you still wished to plead my cause--you might tell my lord that I had destined this sum as the fortune of my daughter. I have a daughter, Mr.

Atlee, and at present sojourning in your own country. And though at one time I was minded to recall her, and take her with me to Turkey, I have grown to doubt whether it would be a wise policy. Our Greek contingencies are too many and too sudden to let us project very far in life.'

'Strange enough,' said Atlee thoughtfully, 'you have just--as it were by mere hazard--struck the one chord in the English nature that will always respond to the appeal of a home affection. Were I to say, "Do you know why Kostalergi makes so hard a bargain? It is to endow a daughter. It is the sole provision he stipulates to make her--Greek statesmen can ama.s.s no fortunes--this hazard will secure the girl's future!" On my life, I cannot think of one argument that would have equal weight.'

Kostalergi smiled faintly, but did not speak.

'Lord Danesbury never married, but I know with what interest and affection he follows the fortunes of men who live to secure the happiness of their children. It is the one plea he could not resist; to be sure he might say, "Kostalergi told you this, and perhaps at the time he himself believed it; but how can a man who likes the world and its very costliest pleasures guard himself against his own habits? Who is to pledge his honour that the girl will ever be the owner of this sum?"'

'I shall place _that_ beyond a cavil or a question: he shall be himself her guardian. The money shall not leave his hands till she marries. You have your own laws, by which a man can charge his estate with the payment of a certain amount. My lord, if he a.s.sents to this, will know how it may be done. I repeat, I do not desire to touch a drachma of the sum.'

'You interest me immensely. I cannot tell you how intensely I feel interested in all this. In fact, I shall own to you frankly that you have at last employed an argument, I do not know how, even if I wished, to answer. Am I at liberty to state this pretty much as you have told it?'

'Every word of it.'

'Will you go further--will you give me a little line, a memorandum in your own hand, to show that I do not misstate nor mistake you--that I have your meaning correctly, and without even a chance of error?'

'I will write it formally and deliberately.'

The bell of the outer door rang at the moment. It was a telegraphic message to Atlee, to say that the steamer had perfected her repairs and would sail that evening.

'You mean to sail with her?' asked the Greek. 'Well, within an hour, you shall have my packet. Good-bye. I have no doubt we shall hear of each other again.'

'I think I could venture to bet on it,' were Atlee's last words as he turned away.

CHAPTER LXV

IN TOWN

Lord Danesbury had arrived at Bruton Street to confer with certain members of the Cabinet who remained in town after the session, chiefly to consult with him. He was accompanied by his niece, Lady Maude, and by Walpole, the latter continuing to reside under his roof, rather from old habit than from any strong wish on either side.

Walpole had obtained a short extension of his leave, and employed the time in endeavouring to make up his mind about a certain letter to Nina Kostalergi, which he had written nearly fifty times in different versions and destroyed. Neither his lords.h.i.+p nor his niece ever saw him. They knew he had a room or two somewhere, a servant was occasionally encountered on the way to him with a breakfast-tray and an urn; his letters were seen on the hall-table; but, except these, he gave no signs of life--never appeared at luncheon or at dinner--and as much dropped out of all memory or interest as though he had ceased to be.

It was one evening, yet early--scarcely eleven o'clock--as Lord Danesbury's little party of four Cabinet chiefs had just departed, that he sat at the drawing-room fire with Lady Maude, chatting over the events of the evening's conversation, and discussing, as men will do at times, the characters of their guests.

'It has been nearly as tiresome as a Cabinet Council, Maude!' said he, with a sigh, 'and not unlike it in one thing--it was almost always the men who knew least of any matter who discussed it most exhaustively.'

'I conclude you know what you are going out to do, my lord, and do not care to hear the desultory notions of people who know nothing.'

'Just so. What could a First Lord tell me about those Russian intrigues in Albania, or is it likely that a Home Secretary is aware of what is preparing in Montenegro? They get hold of some crotchet in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, and a.s.suming it all to be true, they ask defiantly, "How are you going to deal with that? Why did you not foresee the other?" and such like. How little they know, as that fellow Atlee says, that a man evolves his Turkey out of the necessities of his pocket, and captures his Constantinople to pay for a dinner at the "Freres." What fleets of Russian gunboats have I seen launched to procure a few bottles of champagne! I remember a cha.s.se of Kersch, with the cafe, costing a whole battery of Krupp's breech-loaders!'

'Are our own journals more correct?'

'They are more cautious, Maude--far more cautious. Nine days' wonders with us would be too costly. Nothing must be risked that can affect the funds.

The share-list is too solemn a thing for joking.'

'The Premier was very silent to-night,' said she, after a pause.

'He generally is in company: he looks like a man bored at being obliged to listen to people saying the things that he knows as well, and could tell better, than they do.'

'How completely he appears to have forgiven or forgotten the Irish fiasco.'

'Of course he has. An extra blunder in the conduct of Irish affairs is only like an additional mask in a fancy ball--the whole thing is motley; and asking for consistency would be like requesting the company to behave like arch-deacons.'

'And so the mischief has blown over?'

'In a measure it has. The Opposition quarrelled amongst themselves; and such as were not ready to take office if we were beaten, declined to press the motion. The irresponsibles went on, as they always do, to their own destruction. They became violent, and, of course, our people appealed against the violence, and with such temperate language and good-breeding that we carried the House with us.'

'I see there was quite a sensation about the word "villain."'

'No; miscreant. It was miscreant--a word very popular in O'Connell's day, but rather obsolete now. When the Speaker called on the member for an apology, we had won the day! These rash utterances in debate are the explosive b.a.l.l.s that no one must use in battle; and if we only discover one in a fellow's pouch, we discredit the whole army.'

'I forget; did they press for a division?'

'No; we stopped them. We agreed to give them a "special committee to inquire." Of all devices for secrecy invented, I know of none like a "special committee of inquiry." Whatever people have known beforehand, their faith will now be shaken in, and every possible or accidental contingency a.s.sume a shape, a size, and a stability beyond all belief. They have got their committee, and I wish them luck of it! The only men who could tell them anything will take care not to criminate themselves, and the report will be a plaintive cry over a country where so few people can be persuaded to tell the truth, and n.o.body should seem any worse in consequence.'

'Cecil certainly did it,' said she, with a certain bitterness. 'I suppose he did. These young players are always thinking of scoring eight or ten on a single hazard: one should never back them!'

'Mr. Atlee said there was some female influence at work. He would not tell what nor whom. Possibly he did not know.'

'I rather suspect he _did_ know. They were people, if I mistake not, belonging to that Irish castle--Kil--Kil-somebody, or Kil-something.'

'Was Walpole flirting there? was he going to marry one of them?'

'Flirting, I take it, must have been the extent of the folly. Cecil often said he could not marry Irish. I have known men do it! You are aware, Maude,' and here he looked with uncommon gravity, 'the penal laws have all been repealed.'

'I was speaking of society, my lord, not the statutes,' said she resentfully, and half suspicious of a sly jest.

'Had she money?' asked he curtly.

'I cannot tell; I know nothing of these people whatever! I remember something--it was a newspaper story--of a girl that saved Cecil's life by throwing herself before him--a very pretty incident it was; but these things make no figure in a settlement; and a woman may be as bold as Joan of Arc, and not have sixpence. Atlee says you can always settle the courage on the younger children.'

'Atlee's an arrant scamp,' said my lord, laughing. 'He should have written some days since.'

'I suppose he is too late for the borough: the Cradford election comes on next week?' Though there could not be anything more languidly indifferent than her voice in this question, a faint pinkish tinge flitted across her cheek, and left it colourless as before.

'Yes, he has his address out, and there is a sort of committee--certain licensed-victualler people--to whom he has been promising some especial Sabbath-breaking that they yearn after. I have not read it.'

'I have; and it is cleverly written, and there is little more radical in it than we heard this very day at dinner. He tells the electors, "You are no more bound to the support of an army or a navy, if you do not wish to fight, than to maintain the College of Surgeons or Physicians, if you object to take physic." He says, "To tell _me_ that I, with eight s.h.i.+llings a week, have an equal interest in resisting invasion as your Lord Dido, with eighty thousand per annum, is simply nonsense. If you," cries he to one of his supporters, "were to be offered your life by a highwayman on surrendering some few pence or halfpence you carried in _your_ pocket, you do not mean to dictate what my Lord Marquis might do, who has got a gold watch and a pocketful of notes in _his_. And so I say once more, let the rich pay for the defence of what they value. You and I have nothing worth fighting for, and we will not fight. Then as to religion--"'

'Oh, spare me his theology! I can almost imagine it, Maude. I had no conception he was such a Radical.'