“Your Lordship's time is far too valuable to be passed in such discussion; even mine might be more profitably spent than in listening to it, My demand is now before you; in some three weeks hence it is not impossible it may await the consideration of your Lordship's successors. In one word, if I leave this room without your distinct pledge on the subject, you will no longer reckon me amongst the followers of your party.” “Half-past four, I protest,” said Lord Jedburg, taking up his gloves. “I shall be too late at the House. Let us conclude this to-morrow morning. Come down here at eleven.” “Excuse me, my Lord. I leave town to-night I am going over to Ireland.” “Yes, you ought to be there; I forgot. Well, you must leave this affair in my hands. I 'll speak to Croydon and Locksley about it,--both stanch friends of yours. I can make no pledge, you know,--no actual promise--” “Nor I either, my Lord,” said Dunn, rising. “Let me, however, ask you to accept of my excuses for Sunday at dinner.” “I regret much that we are not to have the pleasure of your company,” said his Lordship, with a formal courtesy. “These appointments,” said Dunn, laying down a list he had made on the table, “are, of course, in your Lordship's hands.” “I conclude so,” was the dry reply, as the Minister but-toned his coat. “I wish your Lordship a very good morning. Good-bye, my Lord.” And the words had their peculiar utterance. “Good-bye, Mr. Dunn,” said the Minister, shortly, and rang for his carriage. Dunn had but reached the foot of the stairs, when he heard a rapid tread behind him. “I beg pardon, Mr. Dunn,” cried Bagwell, the private secretary; “his Lordship sent me to overtake you, and say that the matter you are desirous about shall be done. His Lordship also hopes you can dine with him on Sunday.” “Oh, very well; say 'Yes, with much pleasure.' Has his Lordship gone?” “Yes, by the private door. He was in a great hurry, and will, I fear, be late, after all.” “There's a good thing to be done just now in potash, Bagwell, at Pesaro. If you have a spare hundred or two, give me a call to-morrow morning.” And with a gesture to imply secrecy, Dunn moved away, leaving Bagwell in a dream of gold-getting. CHAPTER XIX. THE COTTAGE NEAR SNOWDON At an early portion of this true story, our reader was incidentally told that Charles Conway had a mother, and that she lived in Wales. Her home was a little cottage near the village of Bedgellert, a neighborhood wherein her ancestors had once possessed large estates, but of which not an acre now acknowledged her as owner. Here, on a mere pittance, she had lived for years a life of unbroken solitude. The few charities to the poor her humble means permitted had served to make her loved and respected; while her gentle manners and kind address gave her that sort of eminence which such qualities are sure to attain in remote and simple circles.