ectively or individually, many votes should be recorded for Sir
Francis Levison.

One of the first to become cognizant of the affair was Lord Mount
Severn. He was at his club one evening in London, poring over an evening
paper, when the names "Carlyle," "West Lynne," caught his view. Knowing
that Mr. Carlyle had been named as the probable member, and heartily
wishing that he might become such, the earl naturally read the
paragraph.

He read it, and read it again; he rubbed his eyes, he rubbed his
glasses, he pinched himself, to see whether he was awake or dreaming.
For believe what that paper asserted--that Sir Francis Levison had
entered the lists in opposition to Mr. Carlyle, and was at West Lynne,
busily canvassing--he could not.

"Do you know anything of this infamous assertion?" he inquired of an
intimate friend--"infamous, whether true or false."

"It's true, I heard of it an hour ago. Plenty of cheek that Levison must
have."

"_Cheek!_" repeated the dismayed earl, feeling as if every part of him,
body and mind, were outraged by the news, "don't speak of it in that
way. The hound deserves to be gibbeted."

He threw aside the paper, quitted the club, returned home for a carpet
bag, and went shrieking and whistling down to West Lynne, taking his
son with him. Or, if he did not whistle and shriek the engine did. Fully
determined was the earl of Mount Severn to show _his_ opinion of the
affair.

On these fine spring mornings, their breakfast over, Lady Isabel was in
the habit of going into the grounds with the children. They were on the
lawn before the house, when two gentlemen came walking up the avenue;
or, rather, one gentleman, and a handsome young stripling growing into
another. Lady Isabel thought she should have dropped, for she stood face
to face with Lord Mount Severn. The earl stopped to salute the children,
and raised his hat to the strange lady.

"It is my governess, Madame Vine," said Lucy.

A silent courtesy from Madame Vine. She turned away her head and gasped
for breath.

"Is your papa at home, Lucy?" cried the earl.

"Yes; I think he is at breakfast. I'm so glad you are come!"

Lord Mount Severn walked on, holding William by the hand, who had
eagerly offered to "take him" to papa. Lord Vane bent over Lucy to kiss
her. A little while, a very few more years, and my young lady would not
hold up her rosy lips so boldly.

"You have grown a dearer girl than ever, Lucy. Have you forgotten ou