“No, no, my Lord; I'll content myself with more humble fortunes. I suppose there is always a place for every capacity; and now, to a matter purely personal to myself, and in which, I hope, I may count upon your kind co-operation. I have thoughts of marriage, my Lord, and as I am a stranger in this country, unconnected with it by kindred or connection, I would ask of you to give me that sanction and currency which the honor of your Lordship's friendship confers. The lady upon whom I have fixed my choice is without fortune, but of a family which traces back to royalty, I fancy. This Irish pride of lineage, then, requires that I, upon my side, should not be deficient in such pretensions.” “I am not a Clarencieux, nor Norroy, sir, to make out your genealogy,” said the old peer, with ineffable disdain. Linton had more difficulty to control his laughter than his anger at this impertinent absurdity. “I was not thinking of 'the tree,' my Lord, but its last and most insignificant twig, myself; and, remembering how many kindnesses I owed you, how uniformly your patronage had befriended me through life, I still reckon upon the feeling to serve me once more.” “Be explicit. What do you ask?” said he, leaning back and looking like a monarch whose will was half omnipotence. “What I should like, my Lord, is this,--that you would permit me to drive you over some morning to the gentleman's house, where, presenting the family to your Lordship, I might, while enjoying the sanction of your intimacy and friendship, also obtain your opinion upon the merits of one with whom I would link my humble destinies. I have said that the lady has no fortune; but your Lordship has shown the noble example of selecting for far higher and more ennobling qualities than wealth.” This was said with a spice of that subdued raillery of which Linton was a master; and he saw, with delight, how the old peer winced under it. “Very true, sir; your remark is just, except that the disparity between our conditions does not give the instance the force of example; nor am I certain the experiment will be always successful!” The irritation under which the last words were uttered spread a triumphant joy through Linton's heart, nor dare he trust himself to speak, lest he should reveal it! “Perhaps a letter, Mr. Linton, would answer your object. It appears to _me_ that the condescension of a visit is a step too far in advance. You are aware that, in a day or two, as his Majesty's representative, etiquette would require that I should never make the initiative in acquaintance.” “Pardon my interrupting, my Lord; but that rule will only apply to you at the seat of your mission. Here, you have no other distinction than of being the well-known leader of the Irish peerage,--the great head of an illustrious body, who look up to you for guidance and direction.”