s very well known to you that I am a
partisan in your family."

"I hope we are none of us partisans," said he. "That you love my son
sincerely, I have always been glad to recognise."

"O! my lord, we are past the hour of these civilities," I replied. "If
we are to save anything out of the fire, we must look the fact in its
bare countenance. A partisan I am; partisans we have all been; it is as
a partisan that I am here in the middle of the night to plead before
you. Hear me; before I go, I will tell you why."

"I would always hear you, Mr. Mackellar," said he, "and that at any
hour, whether of the day or night, for I would be always sure you had a
reason. You spoke once before to very proper purpose; I have not
forgotten that."

"I am here to plead the cause of my master," I said. "I need not tell
you how he acts. You know how he is placed. You know with what
generosity he has always met your other--met your wishes," I corrected
myself, stumbling at that name of son. "You know--you must know--what he
has suffered--what he has suffered about his wife."

"Mr. Mackellar!" cried my lord, rising in bed like a bearded lion.

"You said you would hear me," I continued. "What you do not know, what
you should know, one of the things I am here to speak of, is the
persecution he must bear in private. Your back is not turned before one
whom I dare not name to you falls upon him with the most unfeeling
taunts; twits him--pardon me, my lord--twits him with your partiality,
calls him Jacob, calls him clown, pursues him with ungenerous raillery,
not to be borne by man. And let but one of you appear, instantly he
changes; and my master must smile and courtesy to the man who has been
feeding him with insults; I know, for I have shared in some of it, and I
tell you the life is insupportable. All these months it has endured; it
began with the man's landing; it was by the name of Jacob that my master
was greeted the first night."

My lord made a movement as if to throw aside the clothes and rise. "If
there be any truth in this----" said he.

"Do I look like a man lying?" I interrupted, checking him with my hand.

"You should have told me at first," he said.

"Ah, my lord! indeed I should, and you may well hate the face of this
unfaithful servant!" I cried.

"I will take order," said he, "at once," and again made the movement to
rise.

Again I checked him. "I have not done," said I. "Would God I had! All
this my dear, unfortuna