“And yet,” said Sir Brook, with a dry ripple at the angle of his mouth, “I think it is a case where one might forgive the indiscreet friend”--here he glanced at Haire--“who incautiously gave the details to a newspaper.” “Indiscreet or not, I'll do it,” said Haire, resolutely. “What, sir!” cried the Chief, with mock sternness of eye and manner,--“what, sir! if I even forbade you?” “Ay, even so. If you told me you'd shut your door against me, and never see me here again, I 'd do it.” “Look at that man, Sir Brook,” said the Judge, with well-feigned indignation; “he was my schoolfellow, my chum in college, my colleague at the Bar, and my friend everywhere, and see how he turns on me in my hour of adversity!” “If there be adversity, it is of your own making,” said Haire. “It is that you won't accept the prize when you have won it.” “I see it all now,” cried the Chief, laughing, “and stupid enough of me not to see it before. Haire has been a bully all his life; he is the very terror of the Hall; he has bullied sergeants and silk gowns, judges and masters in equity, and his heart is set upon bullying a peer of the realm. Now, if I will not become a lord, he loses this chance; he stands to win or lose on me. Out with it, Haire; make a clean confession, and own, have I not hit the blot?” “Well,” said Haire, with a sigh, “I have been called sly, sarcastic, witty, and what not, but I never thought to hear that I was a bully, or could be a terror to any one.” The comic earnestness of this speech threw them all into a roar of laughing, in which even Haire himself joined at last. “Where is Lucy?” cried the old Judge. “I want her to testify how this man has tyrannized over me.” “Lucy has gone into the garden to read a letter Trafford brought her.” Sir Brook did not add that Trafford had gone with her to assist in the interpretation. “I have told Lord Ellerton,” said the Chief, referring once more to the Minister's letter, “that I will not lend myself in any way to the attack on the late Government. The intrigue which they planned towards me could not have ever succeeded if they had not found a traitor in the garrison; but of him I will speak no more. The old Greek adage was, 'Call no man happy till he dies.' I would say, he is nearer happiness when he has refused some object that has been the goal of all his life, than he is ever like to be under other circumstances.” Tom looked at his father with wistful eyes, as though he owed him gratitude for the speech. “When it is the second horse claims the cup, Haire,” cried the old Judge, with a burst of his instinctive vanity, “it is because the first is disqualified by previous victories. And now let us talk of those whose happiness can be promoted without the intrigues of a Cabinet or a debate in the House. Sir Brook tells me that Lady Trafford has made her submission. She is at last willing to see that in an alliance with us there is no need to call condescension to her aid.”