As Sir William waited breakfast for Haire on Saturday morning, a car drove up to the door, and the butler soon afterwards entered with a card and a letter. The card bore the name “Sir Brook Fossbrooke,” and the letter was sealed with the viceregal arms, and had the name “Wilmington” on the corner. Sir William broke it open, and read,—

“My dear Chief Baron,—This will come to your hand through Sir Brook Fossbrooke, one of my oldest and choicest friends. He tells me he desires to know you, and I am not aware of any more natural or legitimate ambition. It would be presumption in me to direct your attention to qualities you will be more quick to discover and more able to appreciate than myself. I would only add that your estimate will, I feel assured, be not less favorable that it will be formed of one of whose friendship I am proud. It may be that his visit to you will include a matter of business; if so, give it your courteous attention: and believe me ever, my dear Chief Baron, your faithful friend,

“Wilmington.”

“Show the gentleman in,” said the Judge; and he advanced towards the door as Sir Brook entered. “I am proud to make your acquaintance, Sir Brook,” said he, presenting his hand.

“I would not have presumed to call on you at such an hour, my Lord Chief Baron, save that my minutes are numbered. I must leave for England this evening; and I wished, if possible, to meet you before I started.”

“You will, I hope, join me at breakfast?”

“I breakfasted two hours ago,—if I dare to dignify by the name my meal of bread and milk. But, pray, let me not keep you from yours,—that is, if you will permit me to speak to you while so occupied.”

“I am at your orders, sir,” said the old Judge, as he seated himself and requested his visitor to sit beside him.

“His Excellency tells me, my Lord, that there is just now vacant a situation of which some doubt exists as to the patron,—a Registrarship, I think he called it, in your Court?”

“There is no doubt whatever, sir. The patronage is mine.”

“I merely quote the Viceroy, my Lord,—I assert nothing of myself.”

“It may not impossibly save time, sir, when I repeat that his Excellency has misinformed you. The office is in my gift.”

“May I finish the communication with which he charged me?”

“Sir, there is no case before the court,” said the Judge. “I can hear you, as a matter of courtesy; but it cannot be your object to be listened to on such terms?”

“I will accept even so little. If it should prove that the view taken by his Excellency is the correct one—pray, sir, let me proceed—”

“I cannot; I have no temper for a baseless hypothesis. I will not, besides, abuse your time any more than my own forbearance; and I therefore say that if any portion of your interest in making my acquaintance concerns that question you have so promptly broached, the minutes employed in the discussion would be thrown away by us both.”

“Mr. Haire,” said the servant, at this moment; and the Chief Baron's old friend entered, rather heated by his walk.

“You are late by half an hour, Haire; let me present you to Sir Brook Fossbrooke, whose acquaintance I am now honored in making. Sir Brook is under a delusive impression, Haire, which I told you a few days ago would demand some decisive step on my part; he thinks that the vacant registrarship is at the disposal of the Crown.”

“I ask pardon,” said Fossbrooke. “As I understood his Excellency, they only claim the alternate appointment.”

“And they shall not assert even that, sir.”

“Sir William's case is strong,—it is irrefutable. I have gone over it myself,” broke in Haire.

“There, sir! listen to that. You have now wherewithal to go back and tell the Viceroy that the opinion of the leading man of the Irish Bar has decided against his claim. Tell him, sir, that accident timed your visit here at the same moment with my distinguished friend's, and that you in this way obtained a spontaneous decision on the matter at issue. When you couple with that judgment the name of William Haire, you will have said enough.”

“I bow to this great authority,” said Sir Brook, with deep courtesy, “and accepting your Lordship's statement to the fullest, I would only add, that as it was his Excellency's desire to have named me to this office, might I so far presume, on the loss of the good fortune that I had looked for, to approach you with a request, only premising that it is not on my own behalf?”

“I own, sir, that I do not clearly appreciate the title to your claim. You are familiar with the turf, Sir Brook, and you know that it is only the second horse has a right to demand his entry.”

“I have not been beaten, my Lord. You have scratched my name and prevented my running.”

“Let us come back to fact, sir,” said the Chief Baron, not pleased with the retort. “How can you base any right to approach me with a request on the circumstance that his Excellency desired to give you what belonged to another?”

“Yes, that puts it forcibly—unanswerably—to my thinking,” said Haire.

“I may condole with disappointment, sir, but I am not bound to compensate defeat,” said the old Judge; and he arose and walked the room with that irritable look and manner which even the faintest opposition to him often evoked, and for which even the utterance of a flippant rebuke but partly compensated him.

“I take it, my Lord Chief Baron,” said Fossbrooke, calmly, “that I have neither asked for condolence nor compensation. I told you, I hoped distinctly that what I was about to urge was not on my own behalf.”

“Well, sir, and I think the plea is only the less sustainable. The Viceroy's letter might give a pretext for the one; there is nothing in our acquaintance would warrant the other.”

“If you knew, sir, how determined I am not to take offence at words which certainly imperil patience, you would possibly spare me some of these asperities. I am in close relations of friendship with your grandson; he is at present living with me; I have pledged myself to his father to do my utmost in securing him some honorable livelihood, and it is in his behalf that I have presented myself before you to-day. Will you graciously accord me a hearing on this ground?”

There was a quiet dignity of manner in which he said this, a total forgetfulness of self, and a manly simplicity of purpose so palpable, that the old Judge felt he was in presence of one whose character called for all his respect; at the same time he was not one to be suddenly carried away by a sentiment, and in a very measured voice he replied, “If I 'm flattered, sir, by the interest you take in a member of my family, I am still susceptible of a certain displeasure that it should be a stranger should stand before me to ask me for any favor to my own.”

“I am aware, my Lord Chief Baron, that my position is a false one, but so is your own.”

“Mine, sir! mine? What do you mean? Explain yourself.”

“If your Lordship's interest had been exerted as it might have been, Dr. Lendrick's son would never have needed so humble a friend as he has found in me.”

“And have you come here, sir, to lecture me on my duty to my family? Have you presented yourself under the formality of a viceregal letter of introduction to tell a perfect stranger to you how he should have demeaned himself to his own?”

“Probably I might retort, and ask by what right you lecture me on my manners and behavior? But I am willing to be taught by so consummate a master of everything; and though I was once a courtier, I believe that I have much to learn on the score of breeding. And now, my Lord, let us leave this unpromising theme, and come to one which has more interest for each of us. If this registrarship, this place, whatever it be, would be one to suit your grandson, will the withdrawal of my claim serve to induce your Lordship to support his? In one word, my Lord, will you let him have the appointment?”

“I distinctly refuse, sir,” said the Judge, waving his hand with an air of dignity. “Of the young gentleman for whom you intercede I know but little; but there are two disqualifications against him, more than enough, either of them, to outweigh your advocacy.”

“May I learn them?” asked Sir Brook, meekly.

“You shall, sir. He carries my name without its prestige; he inherits my temper, but not my intellect.” The blood rushed to his face as he spoke, and his chest swelled, and his whole bearing bespoke the fierce pride that animated him; when suddenly, as it were, recollecting himself, he added: “I am not wont to give way thus, sir. It is only in a moment of forgetfulness that I could have obtruded a personal consideration into a question of another kind. My friend here will tell you if it has been the habit of my life to pension my family on the public.”

“Having failed in one object of my coming, let me hope for better success in another. May I convey to your Lordship your grandson's regret for having offended you? It has caused him sincere sorrow and much self-reproach. May I return with the good tidings of your forgiveness?”

“The habits of my order are opposed to rash judgments, and consequently to hasty reversions. I will consider the case, and let you hear my opinion upon it.”

“I think that is about as much as you will do with him,” muttered Haire in Sir Brook's ear, and with a significant gesture towards the door.

“Before taking my leave, my Lord, would it be too great a liberty if I beg to present my personal respects to Miss Lendrick?”

“I will inform her of your wish, sir,” said the Judge, rising, and ringing the bell. After a pause of some minutes, in which a perfect silence was maintained by all, the servant returned to say, “Miss Lendrick would be happy to see Sir Brook.”

“I hope, sir,” said the Chief Baron, as he accompanied him to the door, “I have no need to request that no portion of what has passed here to-day be repeated to my granddaughter.”

A haughty bow of assent was all the reply.

“I make my advances to her heart,” said the Judge, with a tone of more feeling in his voice, “through many difficulties. Let these not be increased to me,—let her not think me unmindful of my own.”

“Give her no reason to think so, my Lord, and you may feel very indifferent to the chance words of a passing acquaintance.”

“For the third time to-day, sir, have you dared to sit in judgment over my behavior to my family. You cannot plead want of experience of life, or want of converse with men, to excuse this audacity. I must regard your intrusion, therefore, as a settled project to insult me. I accept no apologies, sir,” said the old man, with a haughty wave of his hand, while his eyes glittered with passion. “I only ask, and I hope I ask as a right, that I may not be outraged under my own roof. Take your next opportunity to offend me when I may not be hampered by the character of your host. Come down into the open arena, and see how proud you will feel at the issue of the encounter.” He rang the bell violently as he spoke, and continued to ring it till the servant came.

“Accompany this gentleman to the gate,” said he to the man.

Not a change came over Sir Brook's face during the delivery of this speech; and as he bowed reverentially and withdrew, his manner was all that courtesy could desire.

“I see he's not going to visit Lucy,” muttered Haire, as Sir Brook passed the window.

“I should think not, sir. There are few men would like to linger where they have been so ingloriously defeated.” He walked the room with a proud defiant look for some minutes, and then, sinking faintly into a chair, said, in a weak, tremulous tone, “Haire, these trials are too much for me. It is a cruel aggravation of the ills of old age to have a heart and a brain alive to the finest sense of injury.”

Haire muttered something like concurrence.

“What is it you say, sir? Speak out,” cried the Judge.

“I was saying,” muttered the other, “I wish they would not provoke—would not irritate you; that people ought to see the state your nerves are in, and should use a little discretion how they contradict and oppose you.” The bland smile of the Chief-Justice, and an assenting gesture of his hand, emboldened Haire to continue, and he went on: “I have always said, Keep away such as excite him; his condition is not one to be bettered by passionate outbreaks. Calm him, humor him.”

“What a pearl above price is a friend endowed with discretion! Leave me, Haire, to think over your nice words. I would like to ponder them alone and to myself. I 'll send for you by and by.”