period. My old nurse-heaven bless
her--resumed the occupation of washing. I have stood by her tub, Richie,
blowing bubbles and listening to her prophecies of my exalted fortune
for hours. On my honour, I doubt, I seriously doubt, if I have ever
been happier. I depend just now--I have to avow it to you--slightly upon
stimulants... of a perfectly innocuous character. Mrs. Waddy will allow
me a pint of champagne. The truth is, Richie--you see these two or three
poor pensioners of mine, honi soit qui mal y pense--my mother has had
hard names thrown at her. The stones of these streets cry out to me to
have her vindicated. I am not tired; but I want my wine.'

He repeated several times before he reached his housedoor, that he
wanted his wine, in a manner to be almost alarming. His unwonted effort
of memory, the singular pictures of him which it had flashed before me,
and a sort of impatient compassion, made me forget my wrath. I saw him
take his restorative at one draught. He lay down on a sofa, and his
valet drew his boots off and threw a cloak over him. Lying there, he
wished me gaily good-night. Mrs. Waddy told me that he had adopted this
system of sleeping for the last month. 'Bless you, as many people call
on him at night now as in the day,' she said; and I was induced to
suppose he had some connection with the Press. She had implicit faith in
his powers of constitution, and would affirm, that he had been the death
of dozens whom the attraction had duped to imitate his habits. 'He is
now a Field-Marshal on his campaign.' She betrayed a twinkle of humour.
He must himself have favoured her with that remark. The report of the
house-door frequently shutting in the night suggested the passage of his
aides-de-camp.

Early in the morning, I found him pacing through the open doors of the
dining-room and the library dictating to a secretary at a desk, now and
then tossing a word to Dettermain and Newson's chief clerk. The floor
was strewn with journals. He wore Hessian boots; a voluminous black
cloak hung loosely from his shoulders.

'I am just settling the evening papers,' he said after greeting me, with
a show of formality in his warmth; and immediately added, 'That will do,
Mr. Jopson. Put in a note--"Mr. Harry Lepel Richmond of Riversley and
Twn-y-glas, my son, takes no step to official distinction in his native
land save through the ordinary Parliamentary channels." Your pardon,
Richie; presently. I am replying to a morni