Loughlinter, Friday.
“What does she mean about nine years?”
said Lady Baldock in her wrath.
“She is joking,” said the mild Augusta.
“I believe she would—joke, if I were
going to be buried,” said Lady Baldock.
Showing How Phineas Bore the Blow
When Phineas received Lady Laura Kennedy’s letter,
he was sitting in his gorgeous apartment in the Colonial
Office. It was gorgeous in comparison with the
very dingy room at Mr. Low’s to which he had
been accustomed in his early days,—and
somewhat gorgeous also as compared with the lodgings
he had so long inhabited in Mr. Bunce’s house.
The room was large and square, and looked out from
three windows on to St. James’s Park. There
were in it two very comfortable arm-chairs and a comfortable
sofa. And the office table at which he sat was
of old mahogany, shining brightly, and seemed to be
fitted up with every possible appliance for official
comfort. This stood near one of the windows,
so that he could sit and look down upon the park.
And there was a large round table covered with books
and newspapers. And the walls of the room were
bright with maps of all the colonies. And there
was one very interesting map,—but not very
bright,—showing the American colonies,
as they used to be. And there was a little inner
closet in which he could brush his hair and wash his
hands; and in the room adjoining there sat,—or
ought to have sat, for he was often absent, vexing
the mind of Phineas,—the Earl’s nephew,
his private secretary. And it was all very gorgeous.
Often as he looked round upon it, thinking of his
old bedroom at Killaloe, of his little garrets at
Trinity, of the dingy chambers in Lincoln’s Inn,
he would tell himself that it was very gorgeous.
He would wonder that anything so grand had fallen
to his lot.
The letter from Scotland was brought to him in the
afternoon, having reached London by some day-mail
from Glasgow. He was sitting at his desk with
a heap of papers before him referring to a contemplated
railway from Halifax, in Nova Scotia, to the foot of
the Rocky Mountains. It had become his business
to get up the subject, and then discuss with his principal,
Lord Cantrip, the expediency of advising the Government
to lend a company five million of money, in order
that this railway might be made. It was a big
subject, and the contemplation of it gratified him.
It required that he should look forward to great events,
and exercise the wisdom of a statesman. What
was the chance of these colonies being swallowed up
by those other regions,—once colonies,—of
which the map that hung in the corner told so eloquent
a tale? And if so, would the five million ever
be repaid? And if not swallowed up, were the
colonies worth so great an adventure of national money?
Could they repay it? Would they do so? Should
they be made to do so? Mr. Low, who was now a
