“No, no; what does it matter? Take my arm and get out of this place. Where are you stopping in town? Can I set you down?” said the other, in hurry and confusion. “I'm with my son-in-law at Ely Place; he is to call for me here, so you can leave me, my dear friend, for I see you are impatient to get away.” Lord Glengariff pressed his hand cordially, and descended the stairs far more rapidly than he had mounted them. “Lord Glengariff,--one word, my Lord,” cried Mr. Hankes, hastening after him, and just catching him at the door. “Not now, sir,--not now,” said Lord Glengariff. “I beg a thousand pardons, my Lord, but Mr. Dunn writes me peremptorily to say that it cannot be effected--” “Not raise the money, did you say?” asked he, growing suddenly pale. “Not in the manner he proposed, my Lord. If you will allow me to explain--” “Come over to my hotel. I am at Bilton's,” said Lord Glengariff. “Call on me there in an hour.” And so saying, he got into his carriage and drove off. In the large drawing-room of the hotel sat a lady working, and occasionally reading a book which lay open before her. She was tall and thin, finely featured, and though now entered upon that period of life when every line and every tint confess the ravage of time, was still handsome. This was Lady Augusta Arden, Lord Glengariff's only unmarried daughter, the very type of her father in temperament as well as appearance. “By George! it is confiscation. It is the inauguration of that Communism the French speak of,” cried Lord Glengariff, as he entered the room. “There 's poor Barton of Curryglass, one of the oldest names in his county, sold out, and for nothing,--absolutely nothing. No man shall persuade me that this is just or equitable; no man shall tell me that the Legislature shall step in and decide at any moment how I am to deal with my creditors.” “I never heard of that Burton.” “I said Barton,--not Burton; a man whose estate used to be called five thousand a year,” said he, angrily. “There he is now, turned out on the world. I verily believe he has n't a guinea left! And what is all this for? To raise up in the country a set of spurious gentry,--fellows that were never heard of, whose names are only known over shop-boards,--as if the people should be better treated or more kindly dealt with by them than by us, their natural protectors! By George! if Ireland should swarm with Davenport Dunns, I 'd call it a sorry exchange for the good blood she had lost in exterminating her old gentry.” “Has he come back?” asked Lady Augusta, as she bent her head more deeply over her work, and her cheeks grew a shade more red. “No; he's dining with royalties, and driving about in princely carriages on the Continent Seeing what the pleasures of his intimacy have cost us here at home, I'd say that these great personages ought to look sharp, or, by George! he'll sell them out, as he has done us.” He laughed a bitter laugh at his jest, but his daughter did not join in the emotion.