“Your Lordship was good enough to tell me that I was to make myself perfectly at home here; may I begin at once to avail myself of your kindness, and say that for this evening I beg to retire early? I have a number of letters to read, and some to answer.” “Really, Lady Augusta will feel quite offended if you slight her tea-table.” “Nay, my Lord. It is only for this evening, and I am sure you will make my excuses becomingly.” “It shall be as you please,” said the old Lord, with a rather stiff courtesy. “Thank you, my Lord; thank you. I assure you it is very rarely the sacrifice to duty costs me so keenly. Goodnight.” CHAPTER XXXVII. “A MAN IN REQUEST” The bountifully spread breakfast-table of the following morning was not destined to be graced by Mr. Dunn's presence. A clerk had arrived early in the morning with a mass of correspondence from Dublin, and a Government messenger, armed with an ominous-looking red box, came post-haste about an hour later, while a request for a cup of tea in his own room explained that Mr. Dunn was not to make his appearance in public. “This savors of downright slavery,” said Lady Augusta, whose morning toilette was admirably devised. “To me it savors of downright humbug,” said Lord Glengariff, pettishly. “No one shall tell me that a man has not time to eat his meals like a gentleman. A Secretary of State does n't give himself such airs. Why, I protest, here comes another courier! what can this fellow be?” “A messenger from the Home Office has just arrived for Mr. Dunn,” said Miss Kellett, entering the room. “Our little cottage is become like a house in Whitehall Gardens,” said Lord Glengariff, angrily. “I have no doubt we ought to feel excessively flattered by the notoriety the newspapers are certain to accord us.” “Mr. Dunn is more to be pitied than any of us,” said Lady Augusta, compassionately. “I suspect he'd not agree with you,” said his Lordship, bitterly. “I rather opine that Mr. Dunn has another and a very different estimate of his present position.” “Such a life is certainly not enviable. Perhaps I'm wrong, though,” said she, quickly; “Miss Kellett does not seem of _my_ mind.” Sybella blushed slightly, and in some embarrassment said, “Certain minds find their best happiness in great labor; Mr. Dunn's may be one of these.” “Pulteney found time for a cast with the hounds, and Charles Fox had leisure for his rubber of whist. It is these modern fellows have introduced the notion that 'the House' is like a 'mill at Manchester.' There goes one with his despatches,” cried he, as a mounted messenger rode off from the door. “I 'd wager a trifle that if they never came to hand the world would just jog on its course as pleasantly, and no one the worse for the mishap.” “With Mr. Dunn's compliments, my Lord,” said a servant, placing several open letters on the table; “he thought your Lordship would like to see the latest news from the Crimea.”