nd to bestir himself
actively on behalf of Lord Dumbello. Mr. Sowerby was an old friend of
his, and a very good fellow. That was true. But all the world must
admit that Sowerby was not in the position which a county member
ought to occupy. He was a ruined man, and it would not be for his own
advantage that he should be maintained in a position which was fit
only for a man of property. He knew--he, Fothergill--that Mr. Sowerby
must abandon all right and claim to Chaldicotes; and if so, what
would be more absurd than to acknowledge that he had a right and
claim to the seat in Parliament? As to Lord Dumbello, it was probable
that he would soon become one of the largest landowners in the
county; and, as such, who could be more fit for the representation?
Beyond this, Mr. Fothergill was not ashamed to confess--so he
said--that he hoped to hold Lord Dumbello's agency. It would be
compatible with his other duties, and therefore, as a matter of
course, he intended to support Lord Dumbello; he himself, that is. As
to the duke's mind in the matter--! But I have already explained how
Mr. Fothergill disposed of that.

In these days, Mr. Sowerby came down to his own house--for ostensibly
it was still his own house--but he came very quietly, and his arrival
was hardly known in his own village. Though his placard was stuck
up so widely, he himself took no electioneering steps; none, at
least, as yet. The protection against arrest which he derived from
Parliament would soon be over, and those who were most bitter against
the duke averred that steps would be taken to arrest him, should he
give sufficient opportunity to the myrmidons of the law. That he
would, in such case, be arrested was very likely; but it was not
likely that this would be done in any way at the duke's instance. Mr.
Fothergill declared indignantly that this insinuation made him very
angry; but he was too prudent a man to be very angry at anything, and
he knew how to make capital on his own side of charges such as these
which overshot their own mark. Mr. Sowerby came down very quietly to
Chaldicotes, and there he remained for a couple of days, quite alone.
The place bore a very different aspect now to that which we noticed
when Mark Robarts drove up to it, in the early pages of this little
narrative. There were no lights in the windows now, and no voices
came from the stables; no dogs barked, and all was dead and silent
as the grave. During the greater portion of thos