“I wish I had never re-opened your letter; that vein of sarcastic coolness which runs through it will never turn me from my purpose. You seem to forget, besides, that you are talking to a man of the world, just as hackneyed, just as 'used up' as yourself. I should like to see you assume this indolent dalliance before La Henderson! Take my word for it, Harry, you 'd be safer with the impertinence amongst some of your duchesses in Pall Mall. You say that great beauty in a woman, like genius in a man, is a kind of brevet nobility, and yet you add that the envy of the world will never weary of putting the possessor 'on his title.' How gladly would I accept this challenge! Ay, Harry, I tell you, in all defiance, that your proudest could not vie with her! “If I wanted a proof of the vassalage of the social state we live in, I have it before me in the fact that a man like yourself, wellborn, young, rich, and high-hearted, should place the judgments and prejudices of half a dozen old tabbies of either sex above all the promptings of a noble ambition--all the sentiments of a generous devotion. Your starling cry of 'the Steward's daughter,' then, does not deter, it only determines the purpose “Of yours faithfully, “Jack Massingbred.” “You 'll see by the papers that I have accepted the Chiltern Hundreds. This is the first step.--now for the second!” CHAPTER XXXIII. A DINNER AT “THE LODGE” While the “Morning Post” of a certain day, some twenty years ago, was chronicling the illustrious guests who partook of his Majesty's hospitalities at Windsor, the “Dublin Evening Mail,” under the less pretentious heading of “Viceregal Court,” gave a list of those who had dined with his Excellency at the Lodge. There was not anything very striking or very new in the announcement. Our _dramatis personæ,_ in this wise, are limited; and after the accustomed names of the Lord Chancellor and Mrs. Dobbs, the Master of the Rolls and Mrs. Wiggins, Colonel Somebody of the 105th, Sir Felix and Miss Slasher, you invariably find the catalogue close with an un-der-secretary, a king-at-arms, and the inevitable Captain Lawrence Belcour, the aide-de-camp in waiting!--these latter recorded somewhat in the same spirit that the manager of a provincial theatre swells the roll of his company, by the names of the machinist, the scene-painter, and the leader of the band! We have no peculiar concern, however, with this fact, save that on the day in question our old friend Joseph Nelligan figured as a vice-regal guest. It was the first time he had been so honored, and, although not of a stamp to attach any great prize to the distinction, he was well aware that the recognition was intended as an honor; the more, when an aide-de-camp signified to him that his place at table was on one side of his Excellency.