“Nothing, father; none have ever presumed to say a word against it. In talking the matter over, however, with some members of the Cabinet, one or two suggested Dunnscourt, but the majority inclined to Castledunn.” “And what did your Lordship say?” asked the old man, with a gleeful cackle. “Oh, Davy! I never thought the day would come that I 'd call you by any name I 'd love so well as that you bore when a child; but see, now, it makes my old eyes run over to speak to you as 'my Lord.'” “It is a fair and honest pride, father,” said Dunn, caressingly. “We stormed the breach ourselves, with none to help, none to cheer us on.” “Oh, Davy, but it does me good to call you 'my Lord.'” “Well, sir, you are only anticipating a week or two. Parliament will assemble after the elections, and then be prorogued; immediately afterwards there will be four elevations to the peerage,--mine one of them.” “Yes, my Lord,” mumbled the old man, submissively. “But this is not all, father; the same week that sees me gazetted a peer will announce my marriage with an Earl's daughter.” “Davy, Davy, this luck is coming too quick! Take care, my son, that there's no pit before you.” “I know what I am doing, sir, and so does the Lady Augusta Arden. You remember the Earl of Glengariffs name?” “Where you were once a tutor, is it?” “The same, sir.” “It was they that used to be so cruel to you, Davy, wasn't it?” “I was a foolish boy, ignorant of the world and its ways at the time. I fancied fifty things to mean offence which never were intended to wound me.” “Ay, they made you eat in the servants' hall, I think.” “Never, sir,--never; they placed me at a side table once or twice when pressed for room.” “Well, it was the room you had somewhere in a hayloft, eh?” “Nothing of the kind, sir. Your memory is all astray. My chamber was small,--for the cottage had not much accommodation,--but I was well and suitably lodged.” “Well, what was it they did?” muttered he to himself. “I know it was something that made you cry the whole night after you came home.” “Father, father! these are unprofitable memories,” said Dunn, sternly. “Were one to treasure up the score of all the petty slights he may have received in life, so that in some day of power he might acquit the debt, success would be anything but desirable.” “I'm not so sure of that, Davy. I never forgot an injury.” “I am more charitable, sir,” said Dunn, calmly. “No, you 're not, Davy,--no, you 're not,” replied the old man, eagerly, “but you think it's wiser to be never-minding; and so it would, boy, if the man that injured you was to forget it too. Ay, Davy, that's the rub. But _he_ won't; he 'll remember to his dying day that there's a score between you.” “I tell you, father, that these maxims do not apply to persons of condition, all whose instincts and modes of thought are unlike those of the inferior classes.” “They are men and women, Davy,--they are men and women.”