238
WYLDER'S HAND.
turned his back upon the grand old gables and twisted
chimneys of Brandon Hall.
This way was rather a round, it must be confessed, to
the Lodge — Jos Larkin's peaceful retreat. But a stroll
with a lord was worth more than that sacrifice, and every
incident which helped to make a colorable case of confi-
dential relations at Brandon — a point in which the good
attorney had been rather weak hitherto — was justly priz-
ed by that virtuous man.
The cigar was delicious, the air balmy and pleasant, his
digestion happy, the society unexceptionably aristocratic
— a step had just been gained, and his consideration in the
town and the country round improved, by the occurrences
of the evening, and his whole system, in consequence, in
a state so serene, sweet, and satisfactory, that I really
believe there was genuine moisture in his pink, dovelike
eyes, as he lifted them to the heavens, and murmured,
"Beautiful, beautiful!" And he mistook his sensations
for a holy rapture and silent worship.
Cigars, like other pleasures, are transitory. Lord Chel-
ford threw away his stump, tendered his case again to Mr.
Larkin, and then took his leave, walking slowly home-
wards.
CHAPTER XL.
IN WHICH SIR FRANCIS SEDDLEY MANIPULATES.
At about two o'clock Buddle was called up, and spirit-
ed away to Brandon in a dog-cart. A haemorrhage, per-
haps, sudden shivering, and inflammation — a sinking,