dear De la
Zouch, what the deuce do you mean? _Eighty_-four at the very lowest!"

"Eh? what? oh--yes of course--I should say ninety--I mean--hem!--_they_
will muster about twenty-four only."

"Ah--I beg your pardon!--_there_ you're right, I dare say."--Here the
announcement of dinner put an end to the colloquy of the two statesmen.
Lord De la Zouch led down Miss Aubrey with an air of the most delicate
and cordial courtesy; and felt almost disposed, in the heat of the
moment, to tell her that he had arranged all in his own mind--that if
_she_ willed it, she had _his_ hearty consent to become the future Lady
De la Zouch. He was himself the eleventh who had come to the title in
direct descent from father to son; 'twas a point he was not a little
nervous and anxious about--he detested collateral succession--and he
made himself infinitely agreeable to Miss Aubrey as he sat beside her at
dinner! The Duke of---- sat on the right hand side of Mrs. Aubrey,
seemingly in high spirits, and she appeared proud enough of her
supporter. It was a delightful dinner-party, elegant without
ostentation, and select without pretence of exclusiveness. All were
cheerful and animated, not merely on account of the over-night's
parliamentary victory, which I have already alluded to, but also in
contemplation of the coming Christmas; how, and where, and with whom
each was to spend that "righte merrie season," being the chief topic of
conversation. As there was nothing peculiar in the dinner, and as I have
no turn for describing such matters in detail--the clatter of plate, the
jingling of silver, the sparkling of wines, and so forth--I shall
request the reader to imagine himself led by me quietly out of the
dining-room into the library--thus escaping from all the bustle and
hubbub attendant upon such an entertainment as is going on in front of
the house. We shall be alone in the library--here it is; we enter it,
and shut the door. 'Tis a spacious room, all the sides covered with
books, of which Mr. Aubrey is a great collector--and the clear red fire
(which we must presently replenish, or it will go out) is shedding a
subdued ruddy light on all the objects in the room, very favorable for
our purpose. The ample table is covered with books and papers; and
there is an antique-looking arm-chair drawn opposite to the fire, in
which Mr. Aubrey has been indulging in a long revery till the moment of
quitting it to go and dress for dinner. This chair I sha