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certain tracts were actually distributed. But Lord Marney soon stopped all this. “No priestcraft at Marney,” said this gentle proprietor of abbey lands.

      “I wanted very much to come and canvass for you,” said Lady Marney to Egremont, “but George did not like it.”

      “The less the family interfered the better,” said Lord Marney; “and for my part, I was very much alarmed when I heard my mother had gone down.”

      “Oh! my mother did wonders,” said Egremont: “we should have been beat without her. Indeed, to tell the truth, I quite gave up the thing the moment they started their man. Before that we were on velvet; but the instant he appeared everything was changed, and I found some of my warmest supporters, members of his committee.”

      “You had a formidable opponent, Lord Marney told me,” said Sir Vavasour. “Who was he?”

      “Oh! a dreadful man! A Scotchman, richer than Croesus, one McDruggy, fresh from Canton, with a million of opium in each pocket, denouncing corruption, and bellowing free trade.”

      “But they do not care much for free trade in the old borough?” said Lord Marney.

      “No, it was a mistake,” said Egremont, “and the cry was changed the moment my opponent was on the ground. Then all the town was placarded with ‘Vote for McDruggy and our young Queen,’ as if he had coalesced with her Majesty.”

      “My mother must have been in despair,” said Lord Marney.

      “We issued our placard instantly of ‘Vote for our young Queen and Egremont,’ which was at least more modest, and turned out more popular.”

      “That I am sure was my mother,” said Lord Marney.

      “No,” said Egremont; “it was the effusion of a far more experienced mind. My mother was in hourly communication with head quarters, and Mr Taper sent down the cry by express.”

      “Peel, in or out, will support the Poor Law,” said Lord Marney, rather audaciously, as he reseated himself after the ladies had retired. “He must;” and he looked at his brother, whose return had in a great degree been secured by crying that Poor Law down.

      “It is impossible,” said Charles, fresh from the hustings, and speaking from the card of Taper, for the condition of the people was a subject of which he knew nothing.

      “He will carry it out,” said Lord Marney, “you’ll see, or the land will not support him.”

      “I wish,” said Sir Vavasour, “we could manage some modification about out-door relief.”

      “Modification!” said Lord Marney; “why there has been nothing but modification. What we want is stringency.”

      “The people will never bear it,” said Egremont; “there must be some change.”

      “You cannot go back to the abuses of the old system,” said Captain Grouse, making, as he thought, a safe observation.

      “Better go back to the old system, than modify the new,” said Lord Marney.

      “I wish the people would take to it a little more,” said Sir Vavasour; “they certainly do not like it in our parish.”

      “The people are very contented here, eh Slimsey?” said Lord Marney.

      “Very,” said the vicar.

      Hereupon a conversation took place, principally sustained by the earl and the baronet, which developed all the resources of the great parochial mind. Dietaries, bastardy, gaol regulations, game laws, were amply discussed; and Lord Marney wound up with a declaration of the means by which the country might be saved, and which seemed principally to consist of high prices and low church.

      “If the sovereign could only know her best friends,” said Sir Vavasour, with a sigh.

      Lord Marney seemed to get uneasy.

      “And avoid the fatal mistakes of her predecessor,” continued the baronet.

      “Charles, another glass of claret,” said the earl.

      “She might yet rally round the throne a body of men”—

      “Then we will go to the ladies,” said the earl, abruptly disturbing his guest.

      Book 2 Chapter 2

      There was music as they re-entered the drawing-room. Sir Vavasour attached himself to Egremont.

      “It is a great pleasure for me to see you again, Mr Egremont;” said the worthy baronet. “Your father was my earliest and kindest friend. I remember you at Firebrace, a very little boy. Happy to see you again, Sir, in so eminent a position; a legislator—one of our legislators. It gave me a sincere satisfaction to observe your return.”

      “You are very kind, Sir Vavasour.”

      “But it is a responsible position,” continued the baronet. “Think you they’ll stand? A majority. I suppose, they have; but, I conclude, in time; Sir Robert will have it in time? We must not be in a hurry; ‘the more haste’—you know the rest. The country is decidedly conservative. All that we want now is a strong government, that will put all things to rights. If the poor king had lived—”

      “He would have sent these men to the right-abouts;” said Egremont, a young politician, proud of his secret intelligence.

      “Ah! the poor king!” said Sir Vavasour, shaking his head.

      “He was entirely with us,” said Egremont.

      “Poor man” said Sir Vavasour.

      “You think it was too late, then?” said his companion.

      “You are a young man entering political life,” said the baronet, taking Egremont kindly by the arm, and leading him to a sofa; “everything depends on the first step. You have a great opportunity. Nothing can be done by a mere individual. The most powerful body in this country wants a champion.”

      “But you can depend on Peel?” said Egremont.

      “He is one of us: we ought to be able to depend on him. But I have spoken to him for an hour, and could get nothing out of him.”

      “He is cautious; but depend upon it, he will stand or fall by the land.”

      “I am not thinking of the land,” said Sir Vavasour; “of something much more important; with all the influence of the land, and a great deal more besides; of an order of men who are ready to rally round the throne, and are, indeed, if justice were done to them, its natural and hereditary champions (Egremont looked perplexity); I am speaking,” added Sir Vavasour, in a solemn voice, “I am speaking of the baronets.”

      “The baronets! And what do they want?”

      “Their rights; their long withheld rights. The poor king was with us. He has frequently expressed to me and other deputies, his determination to do us justice; but he was not a strong-minded man,” said Sir Vavasour, with a sigh; “and in these revolutionary and levelling times, he had a hard task perhaps. And the peers, who are our brethren, they were, I fear, against us. But in spite of the ministers, and in spite of the peers, had the poor king lived, we should at least have had the badge,” added Sir Vavasour mournfully.

      “The badge!”

      “It would have satisfied Sir Grosvenor le Draughte,” said Sir Vavasour; “and he had a strong party with him; he was for compromise, but d— him, his father was only an accoucheur.”

      “And you wanted more?” inquired Egremont, with a demure look.

      “All, or nothing,” said Sir Vavasour; “principle is ever my motto—no expediency. I made a speech to the order at the Clarendon; there were four hundred of us; the feeling was very strong.”

      “A powerful party,” said Egremont.

      “And a military order, sir, if properly understood. What could stand against us? The Reform Bill could never have passed if the baronets had been organized.”

      “I have no doubt you could bring us in now,” said Egremont.

      “That