efs of the Liberal party, such as Lord
Granville and Lord Hartington, and if the listener was credited with any
erudition, allusion was made to the most celebrated artists and authors,
and to their works. There was a celebrated Boucher in Dungory Castle,
which Milord, it was hinted, had bought for some very small sum many
years ago on the Continent; there was also a cabinet by Buhl and a
statue supposed to be a Jean Gougon, and the proofs of their
authenticity were sometimes spoken of after a set dinner-party. His
speech was urbane, and, on all questions of taste, Lord Dungory's
opinion was eagerly sought for. He gave a tone to the ideas put forward
in the surrounding country houses, and it was through him that Mr.
Barton held the title of a genius born out of due time. If Arthur, he
said, had lived two centuries ago, when the gift of imagination was
considered indispensable in the artist, he would have achieved high
distinction. His subjects--_The Bridal of Triermain_ and _Julius Caesar
overturning the Altars of the Druids_--would have been envied, perhaps
stolen, by the Venetian painters. And this tribute to Arthur's genius,
so generously expressed, enabled him to maintain the amenities of his
life at Brookfield. He never forgot to knock at Arthur's studio-door,
and the moment his eyes fell on a new composition, he spoke of it with
respect; and he never failed to allude to it at lunch. He lunched at
Brookfield every day. At half-past one his carriage was at the door. In
the afternoons he went out to drive with Mrs. Barton or sat in the
drawing-room with her. Four times in the week he remained to dinner, and
did not return home until close on midnight.

Whether he ever made any return to Mrs. Barton for her hospitalities,
and, if so, in what form he repaid his obligations to her, was, when
friends drew together, a favourite topic of conversation in the county
of Galway. It had been remarked that the Bartons never dined at Dungory
Castle except on state occasions; and it was well-known that the Ladies
Cullen hated Mrs. Barton with a hatred as venomous as the poison hid in
the fangs of adders.

But Lord Dungory knew how to charm his tame snakes. For fortune they had
but five thousand pounds each, and, although freedom and a London
lodging were often dreamed of, the flesh-pots of Dungory Castle
continued to be purchased at the price of smiles and civil words
exchanged with Mrs. Barton. Besides, as they grew old and ugly,