CHAPTER XXIII.
"FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT."
Suddenly, in the midst of his breakfast, Lord Lamerton uttered an exclamation and turned purple, and thrust his chair from the table.
Lady Lamerton sprang from her seat. Arminell was alarmed. She had not seen her father in this condition before; was he threatened with apoplexy?
"Look at it! God bless my soul!" gasped his lordship. "What confounded scoundrel has written it? Look at it, Julia, it is monstrous."
He thrust a newspaper from him.
"It is in this damned Radical daily. Look at it, Julia! Where is Macduff! I want Macduff. I'll send for my solicitor. Confound their impudence, and the lies—the lies!" Lord Lamerton gasped for breath, then he went on again, "From our Own Correspondent—who is he? If I knew I would have him dragged through the horsepond; the grooms and keepers would do it—delighted to do it—if I stood consequences. Here am I held up as a monster of injustice, to the scorn, the abhorrence of all right-minded men, because I have capriciously closed the manganese mine. There is a harrowing picture drawn of a hundred householders thrown out of work—and thrown out of work, it is suggested, because at the last election they voted Liberal; I am depopulating Auburn—I am in a degree
