He stopped short in his torrent of passion, for the white sail of a small fishing-craft that just showed in the offing suddenly diverted his thoughts to that vision of prosperity he so lately revelled in,--that pleasant dream of a thriving watering-place, bright, sunny, and prosperous, the shore dotted with gayly caparisoned donkeys, and the sea speckled with pleasure-boats. All the elements of that gay Elysium came up before him,--the full tide of fortune setting strongly in, and coming to his feet. Galbraith, who revelled in millions, whose rapid calculations rarely descended to ignoble thousands, had constantly impressed upon him that if Dunn only took it up, the project was already accomplished. “He'll start you a company, my Lord, in a week; a splendid prospectus and an admirable set of names on the direction, with a paid-up capital, to begin with, of--say £30,000. He knows to a nicety how many Stock Exchange fellows, how many M.P.'s, how many county gentlemen to have. He 'll stick all the plums in the right place too; and he'll have the shares quoted at a premium before the scrip is well out in the market. Clever fellow, my Lord,--vastly clever fellow, Dunn!” And so the Earl thought, too, till the letter now before him dashed that impression with disappointment. “I 'll tell you what it is, Gusty,” said he, after a pause,--“we must ask him down here. It is only by an actual inspection of the bay that he can form any just conception of the place. You must write to him for me. This gouty knuckle of mine makes penwork impossible. You can say--Just find a sheet of paper, and I 'll tell you what to say.” Now, the noble Earl was not as ready at dictation as he had fancied; for when Lady Augusta had opened her writing-desk, arranged her writing-materials, and sat, pen in hand, awaiting his suggestions, he was still pacing up and down the room, muttering to himself in broken and unconnected phrases, quite unsuited to the easy flow of composition. “I suppose, Gusty,--I take it for granted,--you must begin, 'My dear sir,'--eh?--or, perhaps, better still, 'Dear Mr. Dunn.'” “'Dear Mr. Dunn,'” said she, not looking up from the paper, but quietly retouching the last letters with her pen. “But I don't see why, after all, we should follow this foolish lead,” said he, proudly. “The acceptance he meets from others need not dictate to us, Gusty. I 'd say, 'The Earl of Glengariff'--or, 'I am requested by Lord Glen-gariff--'” “'My father, Lord Glengariff,'” interposed she, quietly.