The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 257: what you’re looking at

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LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE 255 nature to read that his guest was not indifferent to the rospects he had painted; and on hinting to his friend foe much he desired the advancement of Fitzgerald —for so he condescended to term him—that nobleman joined him in recommending our hero to the chan- cellor for the vacant deanery. A recommendation from so influential a quarter was not a thing to be refused. His majesty, either forgetful of the name, or his mind already affected by the malady which later in life developed itself, returned the appointment with his signature, without one word of inquiry or comment; and Fitzgerald was duly gazetted as Dean of Hereford, . To all these proceedings our hero was a stranger. “T have come to say farewell,” said the marquis oné morning, as he entered the library of the rectory, where he had become a frequent visitor; “but before I quit, you must promise to visit me in town.” “Tam not very likely to see the metropolis,” re- plied the new-made dignitary, who as yet dreamt not of his advancement; “but if I should by any un- : accident be called there, I shall not forget your lordship’s invitation.” “Oh, you will be sure to come,” said the peer, smilingly; “ the distance from your new residence is so short.” a New residence!” repeated Fitzgerald, with sure P A “Yes; the deanery is not more than thirty miles, I believe, from London. Have you not seen the Gazette ?” The papers were lying unopened upon the table before Fitzgeralé, who had been on the point of examining them when his visitor was announeed; an official letter also, with several others, was beside them. With a slightly tremulous hand he broke the seal, aiid found that it contained his nomination to the vacant deanery, The realisation of the first step in his jong-cherished dream of ambition almost un- nerved bis habitual self-possession, and for a few moments he was silent, _“T trust,” said the marquis, piqued by his manner of receiving the news of his elevation, “that the appointment is not unpleasant to you.” “T am too much surprised, my lord, to be eloquent,” replied Fitzgerald; “ but you shall find that I am not ungrateful; for it is to you, I presume, I am indebted for an advancement which, I confess, is gratifying to my feelings.” “To your own merits, my dear dean,” answered the peer. An imperceptible sneer passed over the lip of his hearer when he remembered how little the merits which the noble speaker extolled had availed him in the affair, for it was plain to his understanding that the appointment was given to the wealthy mortgagee, and not to the scholar and the man. Still, as it ad- vanced the great end of his life, political distinction, he felt little disposition to quarrel with the motive through which it was achieved. “You had better be in town for the first levee,” continued bis patron. “I shall be most happy to present you—that is, if you have no more dis- tinguished friend. By-the-bye,” he added, “ will you continue to hold the rectory with the deanery ?” “{ think not, my lord, although I scarcely know in whose favour to resign it; for, as the advowson is | in perpetuity, 1 must either appoint or let it lapse to the bishop—a circumstance I by no means contemplate,” “Are you disposed to part with it?” continued his i visitor—* it would be oxtremely disagreeable to bavé an improper person so near, If so, | am willing become a purchaser. Indeed, with your present future prospects in the church,” added the peer, sigs nificantly, “ you would find your holding your present living only a disadvantage to you.” “T am of your opinion, my lord,” replied Fitzgerald, who clearly saw that he was expected to make the sacrifice to the cupidity of his patron; ‘‘ the advowson is at your disposal.” : “ And the terms?” demanded the marquis. “Your lordship can easily arrange them with my agent, with whom the papers are deposited.” “ Ay—but your agent, my dear dean, is a most unreasonable fellow—invaluable, I grant, to you, but a perfect Cerberus to me. On the subject of the advance upon the estate I found him inexorable, a'though the securities which you hold dre, upon a moderate computation, worth double the sum.” “If your lordship wili call upon him on your re- turn to town,” said Fitagerald, significantly, “ perhaps you will find him more reasonable,” The peer took the hint, and pressed the subject no further, The fact was, although his ereditor was perfectly willing to make the saerifice, which it was evident the marquis expected as the price of his interest, still his natural pride and taste revolted from driving the bargain himeelf. After a few minutes, therefore, of uninteresting conversation, they parted—the noble perfectly satisfied with the very advantageous use he had made of his political influence, and Fitzgerald with the sacrifice with which he had repaid it, The new dean saw his visitor depart with pleasure, He was impatient to be alone; for in solitude only could he give vent to the feelings which agitated him His unexpected and almost miraculeus advancement awoke the passion which had so long slumbered in his heart. But one step more, and a seat in the lature would be attained. Once possessed of that, he feared not for the rest; once there, what might he not achieve? The restoration of his name and the honours of his race all appeared within his reach, Still be was not happy; the recollection of his early love, and the mysterious disappearance of Ellen and her boy, fell like a gloomy cloud upon the prospect opening to his view. “Back, rebel thought!” he exclaimed. “If hap- piness is not within my reach, let me at least enjoy the good that is.”’ But the rebel thought would not back, and by one of those strong revulsions of feeling which sometimes overtake us in the moment of excitement, he remained | for that and several following days overwhelmed with grief and sad reflections on the past, which dimmed the bright anticipations of the future. The course of the month saw him duly installed in his deanery, from whence, as soon as his affairs per- mitted, he removed to London to be presented to his majesty, and renew his acquaintance with his patron. The marquis, who had found on his arrival in town the hitherto disagreeable agent one of the most obliging persons in the world, received his guest with many expressions of pleasure, insisting that he should take up his abode at Sourton House, till his own abode could be got ready—a courtesy which Fitz- gerald unhesitatingly accepted. Here he renewed his acquaintance with the marchioness and her fair daughter, Lady Georgina Sourton. (CO) The morning of the levee at leng’aals)\ a eyato! <C new dean, arrayed in full canonicals, for the first time