"You don't think of letting that old harpy claw up the boy?" "Oh, my lord!" "Of course, it would be madness. I told her I'd see her ladyship made a mummy first." The MC's heart sank. "She means to marry fat Matt Bray. I hope she will. I said I'd see her ladyship made a mummy first, Denville; and--he, he, he! she showed real colour. It came up in her cheeks, all round the rouge. Poor old girl! she is as bad as her sister was: hates to hear about dying. Doosid awkward thing, old Teigne being killed in your house. I wonder who got her diamonds." Denville's hands began to tremble, and the beads of perspiration to stand upon his forehead. "Must all die some day, I suppose. Great nuisance to think about if the weather's fine, Denville; but when it's a cold, easterly wind, or one's gout's bad, I often feel as if I shouldn't mind being tucked up comfortably. How do you feel about it, Denville? You're not a chicken." "My lord, I feel sometimes as if, once I could see my boy settled, and my daughter well married, it would be a relief to lie down and take the long sleep," said the MC solemnly. "Denville," said Lord Carboro', after a pause, during which he held on tightly to his companion's arm. "I've gone on for years calling you an artificial old humbug, with your deportment and niminy-piminy ways. I hadn't the common sense to see that they were like my wig and stock, sir--put on. I beg your pardon, Denville. I do, sir: I beg your pardon. You've the right stuff in you after all, and, sir--I'm very proud to tell you that what I wouldn't do for that old harpy, Drelincourt, I would do on my own account." "My lord!" "Yes, sir; asked His Royal Highness, myself, and he said nothing would give him greater pleasure. Denville, your son has a commission in the Light Dragoons." "My lord, I--I--" "Don't, don't, Denville," said the old man, pressing his arm. "Hold up man, or some of these idiots will be seeing that you are moved. Take a pinch of snuff, man--of mine, and let's walk out upon the Downs, out here beyond the fishermen's cottages, and my sight isn't what it was, or I should have said that was Miss Claire going into yon fisherman's hut." "Impossible, my lord. Will you allow me to express my--" "No, no, no. Not a word, Denville. Why, man, you are husky with emotion now, real emotion. Don't say another word about it. Only make the boy do us justice." "He shall, my lord," said the MC in a broken voice. "And now, look here, Denville; I'm about one of the most selfish old fellows that ever breathed, and I want to see if I can't have a little recompense for all my miseries and disappointments." "Yours, my lord?" "Yes, sir, mine," said the old beau. "Do you think because I'm rich I'm happy? Not a bit of it. I haven't long to live though now, and I want to make the best of the time left." "My lord!" "Hold your tongue and listen. I heard all about Rockley meeting Miss Claire and young Linnell thrashing him."