FullReads

At his suggestion she wrote back to decline Sir George Gorgon’s peremptory invitation, and hinted at the same time that she had attained an age and a position which enabled her to be the mistress of her own actions. To this letter there came an answer from Lady Gorgon which we shall not copy, but which simply stated that Miss Lucy Gorgon’s conduct was unchristian, ungrateful, unladylike, and immodest; that the Gorgon family disowned her for the future, and left her at liberty to form whatever base connections she pleased.

“A pretty world this,” said Mr. Crampton, in a great rage, when the letter was shown to him. “This same fellow, Scully, dissuades my nephew from taking a place, because Scully wants it for himself. This prude of a Lady Gorgon cries out shame, and disowns an innocent amiable girl: she a heartless jilt herself once, and a heartless flirt now. The Pharisees, the Pharisees! And to call mine a base family, too!”

Now, Lady Gorgon did not in the least know Mr. Crampton’s connection with Mr. Perkins, or she would have been much more guarded in her language; but whether she knew it or not, the old gentleman felt a huge indignation, and determined to have his revenge.

“That’s right, Uncle! SHALL I call Gorgon out?” said the impetuous young Perkins, who was all for blood.

“John, you are a fool,” said his uncle. “You shall have a better revenge: you shall be married from Sir George Gorgon’s house, and you shall see Mr. William Pitt Scully sold for nothing.” This to the veteran diplomatist seemed to be the highest triumph which man could possibly enjoy.

It was very soon to take place: and, as has been the case ever since the world began, woman, lovely woman was to be the cause of Scully’s fall. The tender scene at Lord Mantrap’s was followed by many others equally sentimental. Sir George Gorgon called upon his colleague the very next day, and brought with him a card from Lady Gorgon inviting Mr. Scully to dinner. The attorney eagerly accepted the invitation, was received in Baker Street by the whole amiable family with much respectful cordiality, and was pressed to repeat his visits as country neighbours should. More than once did he call, and somehow always at the hour when Sir George was away at his club, or riding in the Park, or elsewhere engaged. Sir George Gorgon was very old, very feeble, very much shattered in constitution. Lady Gorgon used to impart her fears to Mr. Scully every time he called there, and the sympathising attorney used to console her as best he might. Sir George’s country agent neglected the property–his lady consulted Mr. Scully concerning it. He knew to a fraction how large her jointure was; how she was to have Gorgon Castle for her life; and how, in the event of the young baronet’s death (he, too, was a sickly poor boy), the chief part of the estates, bought by her money, would be at her absolute disposal.

“What a pity these odious politics prevent me from having you for our agent,” would Lady Gorgon say; and indeed Scully thought it was a pity too. Ambitious Scully! what wild notions filled his brain. He used to take leave of Lady Gorgon and ruminate upon these things; and when he was gone, Sir George and her Ladyship used to laugh.

“If we can but commit him–if we can but make him vote for Pincher,” said the General, “my peerage is secure. Hawksby and Crampton as good as told me so.”

The point had been urged upon Mr. Scully repeatedly and adroitly. “Is not Pincher a more experienced man than Macabaw?” would Sir George say to his guest over their wine. Scully allowed it. “Can’t you vote for him on personal grounds, and say so in the House?” Scully wished he could–how he wished he could! Every time the General coughed, Scully saw his friend’s desperate situation more and more, and thought how pleasant it would be to be lord of Gorgon Castle. “Knowing my property,” cried Sir George, “as you do, and with your talents and integrity, what a comfort it would be could I leave you as guardian to my boy! But these cursed politics prevent it, my dear fellow. Why WILL you be a Radical?” And Scully cursed politics too. “Hang the low-bred rogue,” added Sir George, when William Pitt Scully left the house: “he will do everything but promise.”