THE DEAR GIRL.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "BELLA DONNA," "NEVER FORGOTTEN," &c.

CHAPTER III. HARCOURT DACRES.

ANY Dieppe exile could gather, from such a
conversation as that recorded in the last chapter,
a fair notion of Mr. Dacres's character.
On the circuit he was "a real good fellow," and
the object of many more such compliments.
He had good talents; could make a rattling,
dashing speech; in fact, was said to be an
Irishman, though he always repelled " the
charge." Mr. Dacres could have been in good
practice on the circuit, had he chosen. He
could laugh a case out of court; but he was
often accused of sacrificing his client to his
speech; and in a heavy case of an elopement,
an injured husband seeking damages, could
pour out the most pathetic declamation, "leaving
not a dry eye in court," and deeply moved
himself, with faltering voice, and tears in his
own eyes, would make the most "beautiful"
appeal in the world—all pathos and piety. At
the bar dinner Dacres would be in great feather,
telling capital stories, taking off the injured
husband, his client of the day, compounding
punch for the mess, and finally starting a little
loo at a snug table in the corner, which went
on till two or three in the morning. It must be
said that Mr. Dacres was punctilious in
arranging his gaming debts, and many a little
"fiver" or " tenner" " bound to my little Lulu
at Dieppe" (shown to a few with a sort of
pathetic paternal air) was handsomely diverted
to the more pressing calls of honour. As for
Dacres's " paper," it was always flying about;
but he had that mysterious power, given
only to men in these sort of difficulties, of
somehow so dealing with charms—magicianlike
— as to keep himself " afloat." We, the more
respectable and more scrupulous in payments,
might strive in vain to get grace for fifty
pounds.

He was absent a great deal from Dieppe,
where the wife and child were kept, of course
called away by business, running over there
now and again when he could. Wise people
often said to him he should get into parliament.
"Why, a man that could make a
speech like you, Dacres, ought to be solicitor-general at least." He could do other things
cleverly. He was connected with Mr. Black's
well-known journal, and could rattle off
slashing, vigorous articles on the word; that
is, when the humour took him, or when Mr.
Black could get hold of him. "That man
would be worth his good twelve hundred a
year, if he'd only stick to it." He could
write an article for any review in truly brilliant
style on the " cut of a horse"—and
indeed, on all matters connected with the world
in which that noble animal moves, was
unimpeached. It was not surprising, therefore,
that when nervous friends assured him
solemnly—over punch—that " he ought to
get into parliament-- that it would be the
making of him," he began at last to let the
matter "come near him." A Scotch baronet,
Trotter, who was going to travel in the East
for two or three years, had met him at the
cheerful board, and been "amused" by his
humour. He was half inclined to let Dacres
keep his seat warm for him; and being sounded
on the matter, wrote at last to say that he would
be glad to see Mr. Dacres at Trotterstown,
N. B., for a few days, and talk the matter over.

This joyful news came when he was residing
at Dieppe with his family, at a period of
enforced domesticity, being very "low" indeed,
not in spirits, but in other things. There were
periods when he was obliged to be "dark," and
when he complained pathetically he was not
allowed to " breathe the air of his" (soi-disant)
"native land." " After all, sir," he would say,
huddling a few things into "the bag," "this is
lonely work enough. I want kindly faces about
the stove-side, the happy hearth, my boy. My
poor girl withering in a foreign land, among
the mounseers, and I enjoying myself like a beast!"

It was during one of these compulsory retirements,
which had gone on longer than usual,
and seemed to defy his usual skill for arrangement,
that word came of what he called " the
Trotter offer." A council was held. He had his
darling Lulu on his knee. That young girl's eyes
lightened and flashed; for she had a curious
vigour of mind that often set Miss Pringle at
her wits' end, and a born eloquence like that of
her father.

"You must go, Harco," she said—she often
spoke to him as a brother—" it is such a chance.
Only think, to be in parliament, before the
country, the nation! Why, you are lost as you