LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California. 
 
 JFT OF 
 
 b a.. 
 
 Class 
 
 Bl>fc^ 
 
Digitized by the Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2007 witii funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/endymionOOdisrricli 
 
ENDYMION 
 
 " Quicquid agunt homines^ 
 
 By the Right Honorable 
 THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD, K. G. 
 
 AUTHOR OP "LOTHAIR," ETC., ETC. 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1, 3, AND 5 BOND STEEET. 
 
 1880. 
 
e 
 
 ENDYMIOK 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was a rich, warm night at the beginning of August, when 
 a gentleman enveloped in a cloak, for he was in evening dress, 
 emerged from a club-house at the top of St. James' Street, and 
 descended that celebrated eminence. He had not proceeded 
 more than half-way down the street when, encountering a 
 friend, he stopped with some abruptness. 
 
 "I have been looking for you everywhere,'' he said. 
 
 *^ What is it?" 
 
 "We can hardly talk about it here." 
 
 "Shall we go to White's ?" 
 
 "I have just left it, and, between ourselves, I would rather 
 we should be more alone. 'Tis as warm as noon. Let us cross 
 the street and get into St. James' Place. That is always my 
 idea of solitude." 
 
 So they crossed the street, and, at the corner of St. James' 
 Place, met several gentlemen who had just come out of Brookes' 
 Club-house. These saluted the companions as they passed, and 
 said, " Capital account from Chiswick^Lord Howard says the 
 chief will be in Downing Street on Monday." 
 
 " It is of Chiswick that I am going to speak to you," said 
 the gentleman in the cloak, putting his arm in that of his com- 
 panion as they walked on. " What I am about to tell you is 
 known only to three persons, and is the most sacred of secrets. 
 Nothing but our friendship could authorize me to impart it to 
 you." 
 
 18C ., 
 
4 ENDYMION. 
 
 "I hope it is something to your advantage," said his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Nothing of that sort ; it is of yourself that I am thinking. 
 Since our political estrangement, I have never had a contented 
 moment. From Christ Church, until that unhappy paralytic 
 stroke, which broke up a government, that had lasted fifteen 
 years, and might have continued fifteen more, we seemed always 
 to have been working together. That we should again unite 
 is my dearest wish. A crisis is at hand. I want you to use it 
 to your advantage. Know then, that what they were just say- 
 ing about Chiswick is moonshine. His case is hopeless, and it 
 has been communicated to the King." 
 
 ** Hopeless !" 
 
 **Rely upon it ; it came direct from the Cottage to my 
 friend." 
 
 ** I thought he had a mission ? " said his companion, with 
 emotion ; ** and men with missions do not disappear till they 
 have fulfilled them." 
 
 ** But why did you think so ? How often have I asked you 
 for your grounds for such a conviction ! There are none. The 
 man of the age is clearly the Duke, the savior of Europe, in 
 the perfection of manhood, and with an iron constitution." 
 
 "The salvation of Europe is the affair of a past genera- 
 tion," said his companion. "We want something else now. 
 The salvation of England should be the subject rather of our 
 present thoughts." 
 
 "England ! why when were things more sound ? Except 
 the split among our own men, which will be now cured, there 
 is not a cause of disquietude." 
 
 "I have much," said his friend. 
 
 "You never used to have any, Sidney. What extraordinary 
 revelations can have been made to you during three months of 
 office under a semi- Whig Ministry ? " 
 
 " Your taunt is fair, though it pains me. And I confess to 
 you that when I resolved to follow Canning and join his new 
 allies, I had many a twinge. I was bred in the Tory camp ; 
 the Tories put me in Parliament and gave me office ; I lived 
 with them and liked them ; we dined and voted together, and 
 
AN OLD CONTROVERSY. 5 
 
 together pasquinaded our opponents. And yet, after Castle- 
 reagh's death, to whom like yourself I was much attached, I 
 had great misgivings as to the position of our party, and the 
 future of the country. I tried to drive them from my mind, 
 and at last took refuge in Canning, who seemed just the man 
 appointed for an age of transition." 
 
 " But a transition to what ? " 
 
 "Well, his foreign policy was Liberal." 
 
 *^The same as the Duke's; the same as poor dear Castle- 
 reagh's. Nothing more unjust than the affected belief that 
 there was any difference between them — a ruse of the Whigs to 
 foster discord in our ranks. And as for domestic affairs, no 
 one is stouter against Parliamentary Reform, while he is for 
 the Church and no surrender, though he may make a harmless 
 speech now and then, as many of us do, in favor of the Catho- 
 lic claims." 
 
 " Well, we will not now pursue this old controversy, my 
 dear Ferrars, particularly if it be true, as you say, that Mr. 
 Canning now lies upon his deathbed." 
 
 " If ! I tell you at this very moment it may be all over." 
 
 " I am shaken to my very center." 
 
 "It is doubtless a great blow to you," rejoined Mr. Ferrars, 
 "and I wish to alleviate it. That is why I was looking for 
 you. The King will, of course, send for the Duke, but I can 
 tell you there will be a disposition to draw back our friends 
 that left us, at least the younger ones of promise. If you are 
 awake, there is no reason why you should not retain your 
 office." 
 
 " I am not so sure the King will send for the Duke." 
 
 "It is certain." 
 
 "Well," said his companion musingly, "it maybe fancy, 
 but I can not resist the feeling that this country, and the 
 world generally, are on the eve of a great change — and I do 
 not think the Duke is the man for the epoch." 
 
 "I see no reason why there should be any great change ; 
 certainly not in this country," said Mr. Ferrars. "Here we 
 have changed everything that was required. Peel has settled 
 the criminal law, and Huskisson the currency, and though I am 
 
6 ENDTMION, 
 
 prepared myself still further to reduce the duties on foreign 
 imports, no one can deny that on this subject the Government 
 is in advance of public opinion." 
 
 " The whole affair rests on too contracted a basis," said his 
 companion. **We are habituated to its exclusiveness, and, no 
 doubt, custom in England is a power ; but let some event sud- 
 denly occur which makes a nation feel or think, and the whole 
 thing might vanish like a dream." 
 
 ** What can happen ? Such affairs as the Luddites do not 
 occur twice in a century, and as for Spafields riots, they are 
 impossible now with Peel's new police. The country is em- 
 ployed and prosperous, and were it not so, the landed interest 
 would always keep things straight." 
 
 *' It is powerful, and has been powerful for a long time ; 
 but there are other interests besides the landed interest now." 
 
 *' Well, there is the colonial interest, and the shipping 
 interest," said Mr. Ferrars, " and both of them thoroughly 
 with us. " 
 
 **I was not thinking of them," said his companion. ''It 
 is the increase of population, and of a population not employed 
 in the cultivation of the soil, and all the consequences of such 
 circumstances, that were passing over my mind." 
 
 *' Don't you be too doctrinaire, my dear Sidney ; you and 
 I are practical men. We must deal with the existing, the 
 urgent ; and there is nothing more pressing at this moment 
 than the formation of a new government. What I want is to 
 see you a member of it. " 
 
 ** Ah ! " said his companion, with a sigh, " do you really 
 think it so near as that ? " 
 
 ** Why, what have we been talking of all this time, my dear 
 Sidney ? Clear your head of all doubt, and, if possible, of all 
 regrets ; we must deal with facts, and we must deal with them 
 to-morrow." 
 
 '* I still think he had a mission," said Sidney, with a sigh, 
 *' if it were only to bring hope to a people." 
 
 "Well, I do not see how he could have done anything 
 more," said Mr. Ferrars, "nor do I believe his government 
 would have lasted during the session. However, I must now 
 
ZENOBIA. 
 
 say good night, for I must look in at the Square . Think well 
 of what I have said, and let me hear from you as soon as you 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Zei^obia was the queen of London, of fashion, and of the 
 Tory party. When she was not holding high festivals, or at- 
 tending them, she was always at home to her intimates, and 
 as she deigned hut rarely to honor the assemblies of others 
 with her presence, she was generally at her evening post to 
 receive the initiated. To be her uninvited guest under such 
 circumstances proved at once that you had entered the highest 
 circle of the social Paradise. 
 
 Zenobia was leaning back on a brilliant sofa, supported by 
 many cushions, and a great personage, gray-headed and blue- 
 ribboned, who was permitted to share the honors of the high 
 place, was hanging on her animated and inspiring accents. 
 An ambassador, in an armed chair which he had placed some- 
 what before her, while he listened with apparent devotion to 
 the oracle, now and then interposed a remark, polished and 
 occasionally cynical. More remote, some dames of high de- 
 gree were surrounded by a chosen band of rank and fashion 
 and celebrity ; and now and then was heard a silver laugh, 
 and now and then was breathed a gentle sigh. Servants glided 
 about the suite of summer chambers occasionally with sherbets 
 and ices, and sometimes a lady entered and saluted Zenobia, 
 and then retreated to the general group, and sometimes a gen- 
 tleman entered and pressed the hand of Zenobia to his lips, 
 and then vanished into air, 
 
 " What I want you to see," said Zenobia, "is that reaction 
 is the law of life, and that we are on the eve of a great reac- 
 tion. Since Lord Castlereagh's death we have had five years 
 of revolution — nothing but change, and every change has been 
 disastrous. Abroad we are in league with all the conspirators 
 of the Continent, and if there were a general war, we should 
 
8 ENDYMIOK 
 
 not have an ally ; at home our trade, I am told, is quite ruined, 
 and we are deluged with foreign articles ; while, thanks to 
 Mr. Huskisson, the country banks, which enabled Mr. Pitt to 
 carry on the war, and saved England, are all broken. There 
 was one thing of which I thought we should always be proud, 
 and that was our laws and their administration ; but now our 
 most sacred enactments are questioned, and people are told to 
 call out for the reform of our courts of judicature, which used 
 to be the glory of the land. This can not last. I see, indeed, 
 many signs of national disgust ; people would have borne a 
 great deal from poor Lord Liverpool, for they knew he was a 
 good man, though I always thought a weak one ; but when it 
 was found that this boasted Liberalism only meant letting the 
 Whigs into oflBce, who, if they had always been in office, would 
 have made us the slaves of Bonaparte, their eyes were opened. 
 Depend upon it, the reaction has commenced. " 
 
 " We shall have some trouble with France," said the am- 
 bassador, " unless there is a change here." 
 
 "The Church is weary of the present men," said the great 
 personage. "No one really knows what they are after." 
 
 "And how can the country be governed without the 
 Church ?" exclaimed Zenobia. "If the country once thinks 
 the Church is in danger, the affair will soon be finished. The 
 King ought to be told what is going on." 
 
 "Nothing is going on," said the ambassador ; "but every- 
 body is afraid of something. " 
 
 "The King's friends should impress upon him never to lose 
 sight of the landed interest," said the great personage. 
 
 " How can any government go on without the support of 
 the Church and the land ?" exclaimed Zenobia. "It is quite 
 unnatural." 
 
 "That is the mystery," remarked the ambassador. " Here 
 is a government, supported by none of the influences hitherto 
 deemed indispensable, and yet it exists." 
 
 "The newspapers support it," said the great personage; 
 "and the Dissenters, who are trying to bring themselves into 
 notice, and who are said to have some influence in the north- 
 ern counties, and the Whigs, who are in a hole, arc willing to 
 
MR. FERRAIiS. 9 
 
 seize the hand of the ministry to help them out of it ; and 
 then there is always a number of people who will support any 
 government — and so the thing works. " 
 
 " They have got a new name for this hybrid sentiment," 
 said the ambassador. ** They call it public opinion." 
 
 "How very absurd !" said Zenobia ; *'a mere nickname. 
 As if there could be any opinion but that of the Sovereign and 
 the two Houses of Parliament." 
 
 *^ They are trying to introduce here the continental Liber- 
 alism," said the great personage. "Now we know what Lib- 
 eralism means on the continent. It means the abolition of 
 property and religion. Those ideas would not suit this coun- 
 try ; and I often puzzle myself to foresee how they will at- 
 tempt to apply Liberal opinions here. " 
 
 "I shall always think," said Zenobia, "that Lord Liver- 
 pool went much too far, though I never said so in his time ; 
 for I always uphold my friends." 
 
 "Well, we shall see what Canning will do about the Test 
 and Corporation Acts," said the great personage. "I under- 
 stand they mean to push him." 
 
 " By the by, how is he really ? " said the ambassador. 
 " What are the accounts this afternoon ? " 
 
 " Here is a gentleman who will tell us," said Zenobia, as 
 Mr. Ferrars entered and saluted her. 
 
 " And what is your news from Chiswick ?" she inquired. 
 "They say at Brookes', that he will be at Downing Street 
 on Monday." 
 
 " I doubt it," said Zenobia, but with an expression of dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 Zenobia invited Mr. Ferrars to join her immediate circle. 
 The great personage and the ambassador were confidentially 
 affable to one whom Zenobia so distinguished. Their conver- 
 sation was in hushed tones, as become the initiated. Even 
 Zenobia seemed subdued, and listened ; and to listen, among 
 her many talents, was perhaps her rarest. Mr. Ferrars was 
 one of her favorites, and Zenobia liked young men who she 
 thought would become ministers of State. 
 
 An Hungarian Princess who had quitted the opera early 
 
10 ENDYMION. 
 
 that slie might look in at Zenobia's was now announced. The 
 arrival of this great lady made a stir. Zenobia embraced her, 
 and the great personage with affectionate homage yielded to 
 her instantly the place of honor, and then soon retreated to 
 the laughing voices in the distance that had already more than 
 once attracted and charmed his ear. 
 
 " Mind ; I see you to-morrow," said Zenobia to Mr. Ferrars 
 as he also withdrew. " I shall have something to tell you." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The father of Mr. Ferrars had the reputation of being the 
 son of a once somewhat celebrated statesman, but the only 
 patrimony he inherited from his presumed parent was a clerk- 
 ship in the Treasury, where he found himself drudging at an 
 early age. Nature had endowed him with considerable abili- 
 ties, and peculiarly adapted to the scene of their display. It 
 was difficult to decide which was most remarkable, his shrewd- 
 ness or his capacity of labor. His quickness of perception and 
 mastery of details made him in a few years an authority in the 
 office, and a Secretary of the Treasury, who was quite ignorant 
 of details, but who was a good judge of human character, had 
 the sense to appoint Ferrars his private secretary. This happy 
 preferment in time opened the whole official world to one not 
 only singularly qualified for that kind of life, but who pos- 
 sessed the peculiar gifts that were then commencing to be 
 much in demand in those circles. "We were then entering that 
 era of commercial and financial reform which had been, if not 
 absolutely occasioned, certainly precipitated, by the revolt of 
 our colonies. Knowledge of finance and acquaintance with 
 tariffs were then rare gifts, and before five years of his private 
 secretaryship had expired, Ferrars was mentioned to Mr. Pitt 
 as the man at the Treasury who could do something that the 
 great minister required. This decided his lot. Mr. Pitt found 
 in Ferrars the instrument he wanted, and appreciating all his 
 
COLLEGE DATS. H 
 
 qualities placed him in a position which afforded them full 
 play. The minister returned Ferrars to Parliament, for the 
 Treasury then had boroughs of its own, and the new member 
 was preferred to an important and laborious post. So long as' 
 Pitt and Grenville were in the ascendant, Mr. Ferrars toiled and 
 flourished. He was exactly the man they liked ; unwearied, 
 vigilant, clear and cold ; with a dash of natural sarcasm devel- 
 oped by a sharp and varied experience. He disappeared from 
 the active world in the latter years of the Liverpool reign, 
 when a newer generation and more bustling ideas successfully 
 asserted their claims ; but he retired with the solace of a sine- 
 cure, a pension, and a privy-councilorship. The Cabinet he 
 had never entered, nor dared to hope to enter. It was the 
 privilege of an inner circle even in our then contracted public 
 life. It was the dream of Ferrars to revenge in this respect 
 his fate in the person of his son, 'and only child. He was re- 
 solved that his offspring should enjoy all those advantages of 
 education and breeding and society of which he himself had 
 been deprived. For him was to be reserved a full initiation in 
 those costly ceremonies which, under the names of Eton and 
 Christchurch, in his time fascinated and dazzled mankind. 
 His son, William Pitt Ferrars, realized even more than his 
 father's hopes. Extremely good-looking, he was gifted with a 
 precocity of talent. He was the marvel of Eton and the hope 
 of Oxford. As a boy, his Latin verses threw enraptured tutors 
 into paroxysms of praise, while debating societies hailed with 
 acclamation clearly another heaven-born minister. He went 
 up to Oxford about the time that the examinations were re- 
 formed and rendered really efficient. This only increased his 
 renown, for the name of Ferrars figured among the earliest 
 double-firsts. Those were days when a crack university repu- 
 tation often opened the doors of the House of Commons to a 
 young aspirant ; at least, after a season. But Ferrars had not 
 to wait. His father, who watched his career with the passion- 
 ate interest with which a Newmarket man watches the develop- 
 ment of some gifted yearling, took care that all the odds should 
 be in his favor in the race of life. An old colleague of the 
 elder Mr. Ferrars, a worthy peer with many boroughs, placed 
 
12 ENDYMION. 
 
 a seat at the disposal of the youthful hero, the moment he was 
 prepared to accept it, and he might be said to have left the 
 University only to enter the House of Commons. 
 
 There, if his career had not yet realized the dreams of his 
 youthful admirers, it had at least been one of progress and 
 unbroken prosperity. His first speech was successful, though 
 florid, but it was on foreign affairs, which permit rhetoric, and 
 in those days demanded at least one Virgilian quotation. In 
 this latter branch of oratorical adorpment Ferrars was never 
 deficient. No young man of that time, and scarcely any old 
 one, ventured to address Mr. Speaker without being equipped 
 with a Latin passage. Ferrars, in this respect, was triply 
 armed. Indeed, when he entered public life, full of hope and 
 promise, though disciplined to a certain extent by his mathe- 
 matical training, he had read very little more than some Latin 
 writers, some Greek plays, ^and some treatises of Aristotle. 
 These with a due course of Bampton Lectures and some dip- 
 ping into the " Quarterly Keview," then in its prime, qualified 
 a man in those days, not only for being a member of Parlia- 
 ment, but becoming a candidate for the responsibility of 
 statesmanship. Ferrars made his way ; for two years he was 
 occasionally asked by the minister to speak, and then Lord 
 Castlereagh, who liked young men, made him a Lord of the 
 Treasury. He was Under-Secretary of State, and "very ris- 
 ing," when the death of Lord Liverpool brought about the 
 severance of the Tory party, and Mr. Ferrars, mainly under 
 the advice of Zenobia, resigned his ofiice when Mr. Canning 
 was appointed Minister, and cast in his lot with the great des- 
 tiny of the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 The elder Ferrars had the reputation of being wealthy. It 
 was supposed that he had enjoyed opportunities of making 
 money, and had availed himself of them, but this was not true. 
 Though a cynic, and with little respect for his fellow crea- 
 tures, Ferrars had a pride in ofificial purity, and when the Gov- 
 ernment was charged with venality and corruption, he would 
 observe, with a dry chuckle, that he had seen a great deal of 
 life, and that for his part he would not much trust any man 
 out of Downing Street. He had been unable to resist the 
 
MISS CAREY. 13 
 
 temptation of connecting his life with that of an individual of 
 birth and rank ; and in a weak moment, perhaps his only one, 
 he had given his son a step-mother in a still good-looking and 
 very expensive Viscountess Dowager. 
 
 Mr. Ferrars was anxious that his son should make a great 
 alliance, but he was so distracted between prudential considera- 
 tions and his desire that in the veins of his grandchildren there 
 should flow blood of undoubted nobility, that he could never 
 bring to his purpose that clear and concentrated will which 
 was one of the causes of his success in life ; and, in the midst 
 of his perplexities, his son unexpectedly settled the question 
 himself. Though naturally cold and calculating, William Fer- 
 rars, like most of us, had a vein of romance in his being, and 
 it asserted itself. There was a Miss Carey, who suddenly be- 
 came the beauty of the season. She was an orphan, and re- 
 puted to be no inconsiderable heiress, and was introduced to the 
 world by an aunt who was a duchess, and who meant that her 
 niece should be the same. Everybody talked about them, and 
 they went everywhere — among other places to the House of 
 Commons, where Miss Carey, spying the senators from the old 
 ventilator in the ceiling of St. Stephen's Chapel, dropped in 
 her excitement her opera-glass, which fell at the feet of Mr. 
 Under-Secretary Ferrars. He hastened to restore it to its 
 beautiful owner, whom he found accompanied by several of his 
 friends, and he was not only thanked, but invited to remain 
 with them ; and the next day he called, and he called very 
 often afterward, and many other things happened, and at the 
 end of July, the beauty of the season was married not to a 
 Duke, but to a rising man, who Zenobia, who at first disapproved 
 of the match — for Zenobia never liked her male friends to 
 marry — was sure would one day be Prime Minister of England. 
 
 Mrs. Ferrars was of the same opinion as Zenobia, for she 
 was ambitious, and the dream was captivating. And Mrs. 
 Ferrars soon gained Zenobia's good graces, for she had many 
 charms, and, though haughty to the multitude, was a first-rate 
 flatterer. Zenobia liked flattery, and always said she did. Mr. 
 Under-Secretary Ferrars took a mansion in Hill Street, and 
 furnished it with befitting splendor. His dinners were cele- 
 
14 ENDYMION. 
 
 brated, and Mrs. Ferrars gaye suppers after the opera. The 
 equipages of Mrs. Ferrars were distinguished, and they had a 
 large retinue of servants. They had only two children, and 
 they were twins, a brother and a sister, who were brought up 
 like the children of princes. Partly for them, and partly be- 
 cause a minister should have a Tusculum, the Ferrars soon en- 
 gaged a magnificent villa at Wimbledon, which had the advan- 
 tage of admirable stables, convenient, as Mrs. Ferrars was fond 
 of horses, and liked the children too, with their fancy ponies, 
 to be early accustomed to riding. All this occasioned expendi- 
 ture, but old Mr. Ferrars made his son a liberal allowance, and 
 young Mrs. Ferrars was an heiress, or the world thought so, 
 which is nearly the same, and then, too, young Mr. Ferrars 
 was a rising man, in office, and who would always be in office 
 for the rest of his life ; at least, Zenobia said so, because he was 
 on the right side and the Whigs were nowhere, and never would 
 be anywhere, which was quite right, as they had wished to make 
 us the slaves of Bonaparte. 
 
 When the King, after much hesitation, sent for Mr. Can- 
 ning, on the resignation of Lord Liverpool, the Zenobian theory 
 seemed a little at fault, and William Ferrars absolutely out of 
 office had more than one misgiving ; but, after some months 
 of doubt and anxiety, it seemed after all the great lady was 
 right. The unexpected disappearance of Mr. Canning from 
 the scene, followed by the transient and embarrassed phantom 
 of Lord Goderich, seemed to indicate an inexorable destiny 
 that England should be ruled by the most eminent man of the 
 age, and the most illustrious of her citizens. William Ferrars, 
 under the inspiration of Zenobia, had thrown in his fortunes 
 with the Duke, and after nine months of disquietude found his 
 due reward. In the January that succeeded the August con- 
 versation in St. James' Street with Sidney Wilton, William 
 Ferrars was sworn of the Privy Council, and held high office, 
 on the verge of the Cabinet. 
 
 Mr. Ferrers had a dinner party in Hill Street on the day 
 he had returned from Windsor with the seals of his new office. 
 The catastrophe of the Goderich Cabinet, almost on the eve of 
 the meeting of Parliament, had been so sudden that, not an- 
 
SIDNEY WILTOK 15 
 
 ticipating such a state of affairs, Ferrars, among his other 
 guests, had inyited Sidney Wilton. He was rather regretting 
 this when, as his carriage stopped at his own door, he observed 
 that very gentleman on his threshold. 
 
 Wilton greeted him warmly, and congratulated him on his 
 promotion. ''^I do so at once," he added, "because I shall 
 not have the opportunity this evening. I was calling here in 
 the hope of seeing Mrs. Ferrars, and asking her to excuse me 
 from being your guest to-day." 
 
 " Well, it is rather awkward," said Ferrars, " but I could 
 have no idea of this when you were so kind as to say you would 
 come." 
 
 " Oh, nothing of that sort," said Sidney. " I am out and 
 you are in, and I hope you may be in for a long, long time. 
 I dare say it may be so, and the Duke is the man of the age, 
 as you always said he was. I hope your being in office is not 
 to deprive me of your pleasant dinners ; it would be too bad to 
 lose my place both at Whitehall and in Hill Street." 
 
 " I trust that will never happen, my dear fellow ; but to- 
 day I thought it might be embarrassing. " 
 
 " Not at all ; I could endure without wincing even the 
 triumphant glance of Zenobia. The fact is, I have some busi- 
 ness of the most pressing nature which has suddenly arisen, 
 and which demands my immediate attention." 
 
 Ferrars expressed his regret, though in fact he was greatly 
 relieved, and they parted. 
 
 Zenobia did dine with the William Ferrars to-day, and her 
 handsome husband came with her, a knight of the garter, and 
 just appointed to a high office in the household by the new 
 government. Even the excitement of the hour did not dis- 
 turb his indigenous repose. It was a dignified serenity, quite 
 natural, and quite compatible with easy and even cordial man- 
 ners, and an address always considerate even when not sym- 
 pathetic. He was not a loud or a long talker, but his terse 
 remarks were full of taste and a just appreciation of things. 
 If they were sometimes trenchant, the blade was of fine tem- 
 per. Old Mr. Ferrars was there and the Vicountess Edgware. 
 His hair had become quite silvered, and his cheek rosy as a 
 
16 ENBTMIOK 
 
 December apple. His hazel eyes twinkled with satisfaction as 
 he remembered the family had now produced two privy coun- 
 cilors. Lord Pomeroy was there, the great lord who had re- 
 turned William Ferrars to Parliament, a little man, quiet, shy, 
 rather insignificant in appearance, but who observed everybody 
 and everything ; a conscientious man, who was always doing 
 good, in silence and secrecy, and denounced as a boroughmon- 
 ger, had never sold a seat in his life, and was always looking 
 out for able men of character to introduce them to public 
 affairs. It was not a formal party, but had grown up in great 
 degree out of the circumstances of the moment. There were 
 more men than women, and all men in office or devoted sup- 
 porters of the new ministry. 
 
 Mrs. Ferrars, without being a regular beauty, had a volup- 
 tuous face and form. Her complexion was brilliant, with large 
 and long-lashed eyes of blue. Her mouth was certainly too 
 large, but the pouting richness of her lips and the splendor of 
 her teeth baffled criticism. She was a woman who was always 
 gorgeously or fantastically attired. 
 
 *' I never can understand," would sometimes observe Zeno- 
 bia's husband to his brilliant spouse, "how affairs are carried 
 on in this world. Now we have, my dear, fifty thousand per 
 annum ; and I do not see how Ferrars can have much more 
 than five ; and yet he lives much as we do, perhaps better. I 
 know Gibson showed me a horse last week that I very much 
 wanted, but I would not give him two hundred guineas for it. 
 I called there to-day to look after it again, for it would have 
 suited me exactly, but I was told I was too late, and it was sold 
 to Mrs. Ferrars." 
 
 "My dear, you know I do not understand money matters," 
 Zenobia said in reply. " I never could ; but you should re- 
 member that old Ferrars must be very rich, and that William 
 Ferrars is the most rising man of the day, and is sure to be in 
 the cabinet before he is forty." 
 
 Everybody had an appetite for dinner to-day, and the din- 
 ner was worthy of the appetites. Zenobia's husband declared 
 to himself that he never dined so well, though he gave his chef 
 £500 a year, and old Lord Pomeroy, who had not yet admitted 
 
THE TWINS. 17 
 
 French wines to his own table, seemed quite abashed with the 
 number of his wine-glasses and their various colors, and, as he 
 tasted one succulent dish after another, felt a proud satisfaction 
 in having introduced to public life so distinguished a man as 
 William Ferrars. 
 
 With the dessert, not without some ceremoiiy, were intro- 
 duced the two most remarkable guests of the entertainment, 
 and these were the twins ; children of singular beauty, and 
 dressed, if possible, more fancifully and brilliantly than their 
 mamma. They resembled each other, and had the same bril- 
 liant complexions, rich chestnut hair, delicately arched brows, 
 and dark blue eyes. Though only eight years of age, a most 
 unchildlike self-possession distinguished them. The expression 
 of their countenances was haughty, disdainful, and supercilious. 
 Their beautiful features seemed quite unimpassioned, and they 
 moved as if they expected everything to yield to them. The 
 girl, whose long ringlets were braided with pearls, was ushered 
 to a seat next to her father, and, like her brother, who was 
 placed by Mrs. Ferrars, was soon engaged in negligently tasting 
 delicacies, while she seemed apparently unconscious of any one 
 being present, except when she replied to those who addressed 
 her with a stare and a haughty monosyllable. The boy, in a 
 black velvet jacket with large Spanish buttons of silver filigree, 
 a shirt of lace, and a waistcoat of white satin, replied with re- 
 serve, but some condescension, to the good-natured but half- 
 humorous inquiries of the husband of Zenobia. 
 
 ^' And when do you go to school ? " asked his lordship, in a 
 kind voice and with a laughing eye. 
 
 "I shall go to Eton in two years," replied the child, with- 
 out the slightest emotion, and not withdrawing his attention 
 from the grapes he was tasting, or even looking at his inquirer, 
 '* and then I shall go to Christchurch, and then I shall go into 
 Parliament." 
 
 " Myra," said an intimate of the family, a handsome pri- 
 vate secretary of Mr. Ferrars, to the daughter of the house, as 
 he supplied her plate with some choicest delicacies, ''I hope 
 you have not forgotten your engagement to me which you 
 made at Wimbledon two years ago ? " 
 
18 endymion: 
 
 " What engagement ? " she haughtily inquired. 
 
 *^ To marry me." 
 
 " I should not think of marrying any one who was not in 
 the House of Lords," she replied, and she shot at him a glance 
 of contempt. 
 
 The ladies tose. As they were ascending the stairs, one of 
 them said to Mrs. Ferrars, "Your son's name is very pretty, 
 but it is very uncommon, is it not ? " 
 
 " 'Tis a family name. The first Carey who bore it was a 
 courtier of Charles the First, and we have never since been 
 without it. William wanted our boy to be christened Pome- 
 roy, but I was always resolved, if I ever had a son, that he 
 should be named Endymion." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 About the time that the ladies rose from the dinner-table 
 In Hill Street, Mr. Sidney Wilton entered the hall of the Clar- 
 endon Hotel and murmured an inquiry of the porter. Where- 
 upon a bell was rung, and soon a foreign servant appeared, and 
 bowing invited Mr. Wilton to ascend the staircase and follow 
 him. Mr. Wilton was ushered through an ante-chamber into 
 a room of some importance, lofty and decorated, and obviously 
 adapted for distinguished guests. On a principal table a desk 
 was open and many papers strewn about. Apparently some per- 
 son had only recently been writing there. T'here were in the 
 room several musical instruments ; the piano was open, there 
 was a harp and a guitar. The room was rather dimly lighted, 
 but cheerful from the steady blaze of the fire, before which Mr. 
 Wilton stood, not long alone, for an opposite door opened, and 
 a lady advanced leading with her left hand a youth of interest- 
 ing mien and about twelve years of age. The lady was fair 
 and singularly thin. It seemed that her delicate hand must 
 really be transparent. Her cheek was sunk, but the expres- 
 sion of her large brown eyes was inexpressibly pleasing. She 
 
FL ORE STAN. 19 
 
 wore her own hair, once the most celebrated in Europe, and 
 still uncovered. Though the prodigal richness of the tresses 
 had disappeared, the arrangement was still striking from its 
 grace. That rare quality pervaded the being of this lady, and 
 it was impossible not to be struck with her carriage as she ad- 
 vanced to greet her guest ; free from all affectation and yet 
 full of movement ^nd gestures, which might have been the 
 study of painters. 
 
 ''Ah ! " she exclaimed, as she gave him her hand, which 
 he pressed to his lips, *'you are ever faithful." 
 
 Seating themselves, she continued, "You have not seen my 
 boy since he sat upon your knee. Florestan, salute Mr. Wil- 
 ton, your mother's most cherished friend." 
 
 " This is a sudden arrival," said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 ''Well, they would not let us rest," said the lady. " Our 
 only refuge was Switzerland, but I can not breathe among the 
 mountains, and so, after a while, we stole to an obscure corner 
 of the south, and for a time we were tranquil. But soon the old 
 story : representations, remonstrances, warnings, and threats, 
 appeals to Vienna, and lectures from Prince Metternich, not the 
 less impressive because they were courteous, and even gallant. " 
 
 " And had nothing occurred to give a color to such com- 
 plaints, or was it sheer persecution ? " 
 
 "Well, you know," replied the lady, "we wished to remain 
 quiet and obscure ; but where the lad is, they will find him 
 out. It often astonishes me. I believe if we were in the cen- 
 ter of a forest in some Indian isle, with no companions but 
 monkeys and elephants, a secret agent would appear — some de- 
 voted victim of our family — prepared to restore our fortunes 
 and renovate his own. I speak the truth to you always. I 
 have never countenanced these people ; I have never encour- 
 aged them ; but it is impossible rudely to reject the sympathy 
 of those who, after all, are your fellow sufferers, and some of 
 whom have given proof of even disinterested devotion. For 
 my own part, I have never faltered in my faith, that Florestan 
 would some day sit on the throne of his father, dark as appears 
 to be our life ; but I have never much believed that the great 
 result could be occasioned or precipitated by intrigues, but 
 
20 ENDYMIOK 
 
 rather by events more powerful than man, and led on by that 
 fatality in which his father believed." 
 
 " And now you think of remaining here ? " said Mr. Wil- 
 ton. 
 
 "No," said the lady ; *'that I can not do. I love every- 
 thing in this country except its climate and, perhaps, its ho- 
 tels. I think of trying the south of Spain, and fancy, if quite 
 alone, I might vegetate there unnoticed. I can not bring my- 
 self altogether to quit Europe. I am, my dear Sidney, intense- 
 ly European. But Spain is not exactly the country I should 
 fix upon to form kings and statesmen. And this is the point 
 on which I wished to consult you. I want Florestan to receive 
 an English education, and I want you to put me in the way of 
 accomplishing this. It might be convenient, under such cir- 
 cumstances, that he should not obtrude his birth — perhaps, 
 that it should be concealed. He has many honorable names 
 besides the one which indicates the state to which he was bom. 
 But, on all these points, we want your advice." And she 
 seemed to appeal to her son, who bowed his head with a slight 
 smile, but did not speak. 
 
 Mr. Wilton expressed his deep interest in her wishes, and 
 promised to consider how they might best be accomplished, and 
 then the conversation took a more general tone. 
 
 "This change of government in your country," said the 
 lady, " so unexpected, so utterly unforeseen, disturbs me ; in 
 fact, it decided my hesitating movements. I can not but be- 
 lieve that the accession of the Duke of Wellington to power 
 must be bad, at least, for us. It is essentially reactionary. 
 They are triumphing at Vienna." 
 
 "Have they cause ?" said Mr. Wilton. "I am an impar- 
 tial witness, for I have no post in the new administration ; but 
 the leading colleagues of Mr. Canning form part of it, and the 
 conduct of foreign affairs remains in the same hands." 
 
 "That is consoling," said the lady. "I wonder if Lord 
 Dudley would see me. Perhaps not. Ministers do not love 
 pretenders. I knew him when I was not a pretender," added 
 the lady, with the sweetest of smiles, " and thought him agree- 
 able. He was witty. Ah ! Sidney, those were happy days. I 
 
ME. WILTON'S FRIENDSHIP. 21 
 
 look back to the past witli regret, but without remorse. One 
 might have done more good, but one did some ; " and she 
 sighed. 
 
 "You seemed to me," said Sidney with emotion, "to dif- 
 fuse benefits and blessings among all around you." 
 
 "And I read," said the lady, a little indignant, " in some 
 memoirs the other day, that our court was a corrupt and disso- 
 lute court. It was a court of pleasure, if you like ; but of 
 pleasure that animated and refined, and put the world in good 
 humor, which, after all, is good government. The most cor- 
 rupt and dissolute courts on the continent of Europe that I 
 have known," said the lady, "have been outwardly the dullest 
 and most decorous. " 
 
 "My memory of those days," said Mr. Wilton, "is of 
 ceaseless grace and inexhaustible charm. " 
 
 "Well," said the lady, "if I sinned I have at least suffered. 
 And I hope they were only sins of omission. I wanted to see 
 everybody happy, and tried to make them so. But let us talk 
 no more of ourselves. The unfortunate are always egotistical. 
 Tell me something of Mr. Wilton ; and, above all, tell me why 
 you are not in the new government." 
 
 "I have not been invited," said Mr. Wilton. "There are 
 more claimants than can be satisfied, and my claims are not 
 very strong. It is scarcely a disappointment to me. I shall 
 continue in public life ; but, so far as political responsibility is 
 concerned, I would rather wait. I have some fancies on that 
 head, but I will not trouble you with them. My time, there- 
 fore, is at my command ; and so," he added smilingly, " I can 
 attend to the education of Prince Florestan." 
 
 " Do you hear that, Florestan ? " said the lady to her son ; 
 " I told you we had a friend. Thank Mr. Wilton." 
 
 And the young Prince bowed as before, but with a more 
 serious expression. He, however, said nothing. 
 
 "I see you have not forgotten your most delightful pur- 
 suit," said Mr. Wilton, and he looked toward the musical 
 instruments. 
 
 "No," said the lady; "throned or discrowned, music has 
 ever been the charm or consolation of my life." 
 
22 ENDYMION. 
 
 ^' Pleasure should follow business," said Mr. Wilton, "and 
 we have transacted ours. Would it be too bold if I asked 
 again to hear those tones which have so often enchanted me ? " 
 
 " My voice has not fallen off," said the lady, ** for you know 
 it was never first-rate. But they were kind enough to say it 
 had some expression, probably because I generally sang my 
 own words to my own music. I will sing you my farewell to 
 riorestan," she added gayly, and she took up her guitar, and 
 then in tones of melancholy sweetness, breaking at last into a 
 gushing burst of long-controlled affection, she expressed the 
 agony and devotion of a mother's heart. Mr. Wilton was a 
 little agitated ; her son left the room. The mother turned 
 round with a smiling face, and said, "The darling can not 
 bear to hear it, but I sing it on purpose, to prepare him for 
 the inevitable." 
 
 "He is soft-hearted," said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 " He is the most affectionate of beings," replied the mother. 
 *^ Affectionate and mysterious. I can say no more. I ought 
 to tell you his character. I can not. You may say he may 
 have none. I do not know. He has abilities, for he acquires 
 knowledge with facility, and knows a great deal for a boy. 
 But he never gives an opinion. He is silent and solitary. Poor 
 darling ! he has rarely had companions, and that may be the 
 cause. He seems to me always to be thinking." 
 
 " Well, a public school will rouse him from his reveries," 
 said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 ^' As he is away at this moment, I will say that which I 
 should not care to say before his face," said the lady. "You 
 are about to do me a great service, not the first ; and before I 
 leave this, we may — we must — meet again more than once, but 
 there is no time like the present. The separation between 
 Florestan and myself may be final. It is sad to think of such 
 things, but they must be thought of, for they are probable. I 
 still look in a mirror, Sidney ; I am not so frightened by what 
 has occurred since we first met, to be afraid of that — ^but I 
 never deceive myself. I do not know what may be the magical 
 effect of the raisins of Malaga, but if it save my life the grape 
 cure will indeed achieve a miracle. Do not look gloomy. 
 
AGEIPPmA. 23 
 
 Those who have known real grief seldom seem sad. I haye 
 been struggling with sorrow for ten years, but I have got 
 through it with music and singing, and my boy. See now — he 
 will be a source of expense, and it will not do for you to be 
 looking to a woman for supplies. Women are generous but 
 not precise in money matters. I have some excuse, for the 
 world has treated me not very well. I never got my pension 
 regularly ; now I never get it at all. So much for the treaties, 
 but everybody laughs at them. Here is the fortune of Flores- 
 tan, and I wish it all to be spent on his education," and she 
 took a case from her bosom. '^ They are not the crown Jewels 
 though. The memoirs I was reading the other day say I ran 
 away with them. That is false like most things said of me. 
 But tfiese are gems of Golconda, which I wish you to realize 
 and expend for his service. They were the gift of love, and 
 they were worn in love." 
 
 *' It is unnecessary," said Mr. Wilton, deprecating the offer 
 by his attitude. 
 
 " Hush ! " said the lady. " I am still a sovereign to you, 
 and I must be obeyed. " 
 
 Mr. Wilton took the case of jewels, pressed it to his lips, 
 and then placed it in the breast pocket of his coat. He was 
 about to retire, when the lady added, *'I must give you this 
 copy of my song." 
 
 ''And you will write my name on it ?" 
 
 " Certainly," replied the lady, as she went to the table and 
 wrote, "For Mr. Sidney Wilton, from Agrippika." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1^ the mean time, power and prosperity clustered round the 
 roof and family of Ferrars. He himself was in the prime of 
 manhood, with an exalted position in the world of politics, and 
 with a prospect of the highest. The Government of which he 
 was a member was not only deemed strong, but eternal. The 
 
2i END7MI0N. 
 
 favor of the court and the confidence of the country were alike 
 lavished on it. The government of the Duke could only be 
 measured by his life, and his influence was irresistible. It was 
 a dictatorship of patriotism. The country, long accustomed 
 to a strong and undisturbed administration, and frightened by 
 tlie changes and catastrophes which had followed the retire- 
 ment of Lord Liverpool, took refuge in the powerful wiU and 
 splendid reputation of a real hero. 
 
 Mrs. Ferrars was as ambitious of social distinction as her 
 husband was of political power. She was a woman of taste, 
 but of luxurious taste. She had a passion for splendor, which, 
 though ever regulated by a fine perception of the fitness of 
 things, was still costly. Though her mien was in general 
 haughty, she flattered Zenobia and consummately. Zenobia, 
 who liked handsome people, even handsome women, and per- 
 sons who were dressed beautifully, and delighted her eye by 
 their grace and fine manners, was quite won by Mrs. Ferrars, 
 against whom at first she was inclined to be a little prejudiced. 
 There was an entire alliance between them, and though Mrs. 
 Farrars greatly influenced and almost ruled Zenobia, tlie wife 
 of the minister was careful always to acknowledge the Queen 
 of Fashion as her suzeraine. 
 
 The great world then, compared with the huge society of 
 the present period, was limited in its proportions, and com- 
 posed of elements more refined though far less various. It 
 consisted mainly of the great landed aristocracy, who had quite 
 absorbed the nabobs of India, and had nearly appropriated the 
 huge West Indian fortunes. Occasionally, an eminent banker 
 or merchant invested a large portion of his accumulations 
 in land, and in the purchase of parliamentary influence, and 
 was in time duly admitted into the sanctuary. But those vast 
 and successful invasions of society by new classes which have 
 since occurred, though impending, had not yet commenced. 
 The manufacturers, the railway kings, the colossal contractors, 
 the discoverers of nuggets, had not yet found their place in 
 society and the senate. There were then, perhaps, more great 
 houses open than at the present day, but there were very few 
 little ones. The necessity of providing regular occasions for 
 
GOOD NEWS. 25 
 
 the assembling of the miscellaneous world of fashion led to the 
 institution of Almack's, which died out in the advent of the 
 new system of society, and in the fierce competition of its inex- 
 haustible private entertainments. 
 
 The season then was brilliant and sustained, but it was not 
 flurried. People did not go to various parties on the same 
 night. They remained where they were assembled, and, not 
 being in a hurry, were more agreeable than they are at the 
 present day. Conversation was more cultivated ; manners, 
 though unconstrained, were more stately ; and the world, being 
 limited, knew itself much better. On the other hand, the 
 sympathies of society were more contracted than they are at 
 present. The pressure of population had not opened the heart 
 of man. The world attended to its poor in its country parishes, 
 and subscribed and danced for the Spitalfields weavers when 
 their normal distress had overflowed, but their knowledge of 
 the people did not exceed these bounds, and the people knew 
 very little more about themselves. They were only half-born. 
 
 The darkest hour precedes the dawn, and a period of un- 
 usual stillness often, perhaps usually, heralds the social con- 
 vulsion. At this moment the general tranquillity and even 
 content were remarkable. In politics the Whigs were quite 
 prepared to extend to the Duke the same provisional confidence 
 that had been accepted by Mr. Canning, and conciliation began 
 to be an accepted phrase, which meant in practice some share 
 on their part of the good things of the State. The country 
 itself required nothing. There was a general impression, in- 
 deed, that they had been advancing at a rather rapid rate, and 
 that it was as well that the reins should be intrusted to a wary 
 driver. Zenobia, who represented society, was enraptured that 
 the career of revolution had been stayed. She still mourned 
 over the concession of the Manchester and Liverpool railway 
 in a moment of Liberal infatuation, but flattered herself that 
 any extension of the railway system might certainly be arrested, 
 and on this head the majority of society, perhaps even of the 
 country, was certainly on her side. 
 
 "I have some good news for you," said one of her young 
 favorites as he attended her reception. *'We have prevented 
 
 2 
 
26 ENDYMION. 
 
 this morning the lighting of Grosvenor Square by gas by a large 
 majority. " 
 
 "I felt confident that disgrace would never occur," said 
 Zenobia, triumphant. "And by a large majority ! I wonder 
 how Lord Pomeroy voted." 
 
 "Against us." 
 
 "How can one save this country?" exclaimed Zenobia. 
 "I believe now the story that he has ordered Lady Pomeroy 
 not to go to the Drawing Room in a sedan chair." 
 
 One bright May morning in the spring that followed the 
 formation of the government that was to last for ever, Mrs. 
 Ferrars received the world at a fanciful entertainment in the 
 beautiful grounds of her Wimbledon villa. The day was genial, 
 the scene was flushed with roses and pink thorns, and brilliant 
 groups, amid bursts of music, clustered and sauntered on the 
 green turf of bowery lawns. Mrs. Ferrars, on a rustic throne, 
 with the wondrous twins in still more wonderful attire, distrib- 
 uted alternate observations of sympathetic gayety to a Russian 
 Grand Duke and to the serene heir of a German principality. 
 And yet there was really an expression on her countenance of 
 restlessness, not to say anxiety, which ill accorded with the 
 dulcet tones and the wreathed smiles which charmed her august 
 companions. Zenobia, the great Zenobia, had not arrived, and 
 the hours were advancing. The Grand Duke played with the 
 beautiful and haughty infants, and the German Prince inquired 
 of Endymion whether he were destined to be one of Her Ma- 
 jesty's guards ; but still Zenobia did not come, and Mrs. Ferrars 
 could scarcely conceal her vexation. But there was no real oc- 
 casion for it ; for even at this moment, with avant-courier and 
 outriders and badged postilions on her four horses of race, the 
 lodge-gates were opening for the reception of the great lady, 
 who herself soon appeared in the distance ; and Mrs. Ferrars, 
 accompanied by her distinguished guests, immediately rose and 
 advanced to receive the Queen of Fashion. No one appreciated 
 a royal presence more highly than Zenobia. It was her habit 
 to impress upon her noble fellows of both sexes that there were 
 relations of intimacy between herself and the royal houses of 
 Europe, which were not shared by her class. She liked to play 
 
''ALL FOUR OUT!''' 27 
 
 the part of a social mediator between the aristocracy and royal 
 houses. A German Serenity was her delight, but a Russian 
 Grand Duke was her embodiment of power and pomp, and 
 sound principles in their most authentic and orthodox form. 
 And yet, though she addressed their highnesses with her usual 
 courtly yivacity, and poured forth inquiries which seemed to 
 indicate the most familiar acquaintance with- the latest inci- 
 dents from Schonbrunn or the Rhine, though she embraced her 
 hostess, and even kissed the children, the practiced eye of Mrs. 
 Ferrars, whose life was a study of Zenobia, detected that her 
 late appearance had been occasioned by an important cause, 
 and, what was more, that Zenobia was anxious to communicate 
 it to her. With feminine tact Mrs. Ferrars moved on with her 
 guests until the occasion offered when she could present some 
 great ladies to the princes ; and then dismissing the children 
 on appropriate missions, she was not surprised when Zenobia 
 immediately exclaimed : '' Thank heaven, we are at last alone !' 
 You must have been surprised I was so late. Well, guess what 
 has happened ? " and then as Mrs. Ferrars shook her head, she 
 continued : " They are all four out ! " 
 
 "All four!" 
 
 " Yes ; Lord Dudley, Lord Palmerston, and Charles Grant 
 follow Huskisson. I do not believe the first ever meant to go, 
 but the Duke would not listen to his hypocritical explanations, 
 and the rest have followed. I am surprised about Lord Dud- 
 ley, as I know he loved his office. " 
 
 " I am alarm(Td," said Mrs. Ferrars. 
 
 "Not the slightest cause for fear," exclaimed the intrepid 
 Zenobia. " It must have happened sooner or later. I am de- 
 lighted at it. We shall now have a cabinet of our own. They 
 never would have rested till they had brought in some Whigs, 
 and the country hates the Whigs. No wonder, when we re- 
 member that if they had had their way we should have been 
 wearing sabots at this time, with a French prefect probably in 
 Holland House." 
 
 "And whom will they put in the cabinet ?" inquired Mrs. 
 Ferrars. 
 
 "Our good friends, I hope," said Zenobia, with an inspir- 
 
28 ENDYMIOK 
 
 ing smile ; "but I have heard nothing about that yet. I am 
 a little sorry about Lord Dudley, as I think they have drawn 
 him into their mesh ; but as for the other three, especially 
 Huskisson and Lord Palmerston, I can tell you the Duke has 
 never had a quiet moment since they joined him. We shall 
 now begin to reign. The only mistake was ever to have ad- 
 mitted them. I think now we have got rid of Liberalism for 
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 Mr. Ferrars did not become a cabinet minister, but this 
 was a vexation rather than a disappointment, and transient. 
 The unexpected vacancies were filled by unexpected personages. 
 So great a change in the frame of the ministry, without any 
 promotion for himself, was on the first impression not agree- 
 able, but reflection and the sanguine wisdom of Zenobia soon 
 convinced him that all was for the best, that the thought of 
 such rapid preferment was unreasonable, and that time and 
 the due season must inevitably bring all that he could desire, 
 especially as any term to the duration of the ministry was not 
 now to be foreseen : scarcely indeed possible. In short it was 
 shown to him that the Tory party, renovated and restored, had 
 entered upon a new lease of authority, which would stamp its 
 character on the remainder of the nineteenth century, as Mr. 
 Pitt and his school had marked its earlier and memorable years. 
 
 And yet this very reconstruction of the government neces- 
 sarily led to an incident which, in its consequences, changed 
 the whole character of English politics, and commenced a series 
 of revolutions which has not yet closed. 
 
 One of the new ministers who had been preferred to a place 
 which Mr. Ferrars might have filled was an Irish gentleman, 
 and a member for one of the most considerable counties in his 
 country. He was a good speaker, and the government was 
 deficient in debating power in the House of Commons ; he was 
 popular and influential. 
 
THE CLARE ELECTION. • 29 
 
 The return of a cabinet minister by a large constituency 
 was more appreciated in the days of close boroughs than at 
 present. There was a rumor that the new minister was to be 
 opposed, but Zenobia laughed the rumor to scorn. As she 
 irresistibly remarked at one of her evening gatherings, "Every 
 landowner in the county is in his favor ; therefore it is impos- 
 sible." The statistics of Zenobia were quite correct, yet the 
 result was different from what she anticipated. An Irish law- 
 yer, a professional agitator, himself a Eoman' Catholic and 
 therefore ineligible, announced himself as a candidate in oppo- 
 sition to the new minister, and on the day of election, thirty 
 thousand peasants, setting at defiance all the landowners of the 
 county, returned O'Connell at the head of the poll, and placed 
 among not the least memorable of historical events — the Clare 
 election. 
 
 This event did not, however, occur until the end of the 
 year 1828, for the state of the law then prevented the writ 
 from being moved until that time, and during the whole of 
 that year the Ferrars family had pursued a course of unflagging 
 display. Courage^ expenditure, and tact combined, had real- 
 ized almost the height of that social ambition to which Mrs.- 
 Ferrars soared. Even in the limited and exclusive circle which 
 tl^en prevailed, ^she began to be counted among the great dames. 
 As for the twins, they seemed quite worthy of their beautiful 
 and luxurious mother. Proud, willful, and selfish, they had 
 one redeeming quality, an intense affection for each other. 
 The sister seemed to have the commanding spirit, for Endym- 
 ion was calm, but, if he were ruled by his sister, she was ever 
 willing to be his slave, and to sacrifice every consideration to 
 his caprice and his convenience. 
 
 The year 1829 was eventful, but to Ferrars more agitating 
 than anxious. When it was first known that the head of the 
 cabinet, whose colleague had been defeated at Clare, was him- 
 self about to propose the emancipation of the Eoman Catholics, 
 there was a thrill throughout the country ; but after a time the 
 success of the operation was not doubted, and was anticipated 
 as a fresh proof of the irresistible fortune of the heroic states- 
 man. There was some popular discontent in the country at 
 
30 • ENDYMIOK, 
 
 the proposal, but it was mainly organized and stimulated by 
 the Dissenters, and that section of Churchmen who most re- 
 sembled them. The High Church party, the descendants of 
 the old connection which had rallied round Sacheverell, had 
 subsided into formalism, and shrank from any very active co- 
 operation with their evangelical brethren. 
 
 The English Church had no competent leaders among the 
 clergy. The spirit that has animated and disturbed our latter 
 times seemed "^uite dead, and no one anticipated its resurrec- 
 tion. The bishops had been selected from college dons, men 
 profoundly ignorant of the condition and the wants of the 
 country. To have edited a Greek play with second-rate suc- 
 cess, or to have been the tutor of some considerable patrician, 
 was the qualification then deemed desirable and sufficient for 
 an office, which at this day is at least reserved for eloquence 
 and energy. The social influence of the episcopal bench was 
 nothing. A prelate was rarely seen in the saloons of Zenobia. 
 It is since the depths of religious thought have been probed, 
 and the influence of woman in the spread and sustenance of 
 religious feeling has again been recognized, that fascinating 
 and fashionable prelates have become favored guests in the re- 
 fined saloons of the mighty, and, while apparently indulging 
 in the vanities of the hour, have reestablished the influence 
 which in old days guided a Matilda or the mother of Constan- 
 tine. 
 
 The end of the year 1829, however, brought a private event 
 of moment to the Ferrars family. The elder Mr. Ferrars died. 
 The world observed at the time how deeply affected his son was 
 at this event. The relations between father and son had always 
 been commendable, but the world was hardly prepared for Mr. 
 Ferrars, junior, being so entirely overwhelmed. It would seem 
 that nothing but the duties of public life could have restored 
 him to his friends, and even these duties he relinquished for an 
 unusual time. The world was curious to know the amount of 
 his inheritance, but the proof of the will was unusually delayed, 
 and public events soon occurred which alike consigned the will 
 and the will-maker to oblivion. 
 
DEATH OF GEORGE IV. 31 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 The Duke of Wellington applied himself to the treatment 
 of the critical circumstances of 1830 with that blended patience 
 and quickness of perception to which he owed the success of 
 many campaigns. Quite conscious of the difficulties he had to 
 encounter, he was nevertheless full of confidence in his ability 
 to control them. It is probable that the paramount desire of 
 the Duke in his effort to confirm his power was to rally and re- 
 store the ranks of the Tory party, disturbed rather than broken 
 up by the passing of the Relief Bill. During the very heat of 
 the struggle it was significantly observed that the head of the 
 powerful family of Lowther, in the House of Commons, was 
 never asked to resign his office, although both himself and his 
 following voted invariably against the government measure. 
 The order of the day was the utmost courtesy to the rebels, 
 who were treated, as some alleged, with more consideration 
 than the compliant. At the same time the desire of the Whigs 
 to connect, perhaps even to merge themselves in the ministerial 
 ranks, was not neglected. A Whig had been appointed to suc^ 
 ceed the eccentric and too uncompromising Wetherell in the 
 office of attorney-general, other posts had been placed^at their 
 disposal, and one even, an old companion in arms of the Duke, 
 had entered the cabinet. The confidence in the Duke's star 
 was not diminished, and under ordinary circumstances this 
 balanced strategy would probably have been successful. But 
 it was destined to cope with great and unexpected events. 
 
 The first was the unexpected demise of the crown. The 
 death of King George the Fourth at the end of the month of 
 June, according to the then existing constitution, necessitated a 
 dissolution of Parliament, and so deprived the minister of that 
 invaluable quality of time, necessary to soften and win back 
 his estranged friends. Nevertheless, it is not improbable, that 
 the Duke might still have succeeded, had it not been for the 
 occurrence of the French insurrection of 1830, in the very heat 
 of the preparations for the general election in England. The 
 Whigs, who found the Duke going to the country without that 
 
83 END YM I ON. 
 
 reconstruction of his ministry on which they had connted, saw 
 their opportunity and seized it. The triumphant riots of Paris 
 were dignified into ^' the three glorious days," and the three glo- 
 rious days were universally recognized as the triumph of civil 
 and religious liberty. The names of Polignac and Wellington 
 were adroitly connected together, and the phrase Parliamen- 
 tary Reform began to circulate. 
 
 It was Zenobia's last reception for the season ; on the mor- 
 row she was about to depart for her county, and canvass for 
 her candidates. She was still undaunted, and never more 
 inspiring. The excitement of the times was reflected in her 
 manner. She addressed her arriving guests as they made their 
 obeisance to her, asked for news and imparted it before she 
 could be answered, declared that nothing had been more criti- 
 cal since '93, that there was only one man who was able to deal 
 with the situation, and thanked heaven that he was not only in 
 England, but in her drawing-room. 
 
 Ferrars, who had been dining with his patron. Lord Pome- 
 roy, and had the satisfaction of feeling, that at any rate his 
 return to the new Parliament was certain, while helping him- 
 self to coffee could not refrain from saying in a low tone to a 
 gentleman ^who was performing the same office, " Our Whig 
 friends seem in high spirits, baron." 
 
 The gentleman thus addressed was Baron Sergius, a man of 
 middle age. His countenance was singularly intelligent, tem- 
 pered with an expression mild and winning. He had attended 
 the Congress of Vienna to represent a fallen party, a difficult 
 and ungracious task, but he had shown such high qualities in 
 the fulfillment of his painful duties — so much knowledge, so 
 much self-control, and so much wise and unaffected concilia- 
 tion — that he had won universal respect, and especially with 
 the English plenipotentiaries, so that when he visited England, 
 which he did frequently, the houses of both parties were open 
 to him, and he was as intimate with the Whigs as he was with 
 the great Duke, by whom he was highly esteemed. 
 
 *' As we have got our coffee, let us sit down," said the bar- 
 on, and they withdrew to a settee against the wall. 
 
 '* You know that I am a Liberal, and have always been a 
 
BARON 8ERGIUS, S3 
 
 Liberal," said the baron; "I know the value of civil and 
 religious liberty, for I was born in a country where we had 
 neither, and where we have since enjoyed either very fitfully. 
 Nothing can be much drearier than the present lot of my coun- 
 try, and it is probable that these doings at Paris may help my 
 friends a little, and they may again hold up their heads for a 
 time ; but I have seen too much, and am too old, to indulge in 
 dreams. You are a young man and will live to see what I can 
 only predict. The world is thinking of something else than 
 civil and religious liberty. Those are phrases of the eighteenth 
 century. The men who have won these ' three glorious days ' 
 at Paris, v/ant neither civilization nor religion. They will not 
 be content till they have destroyed both. It is possible that 
 they may be parried for a time ; that the adroit wisdom of the 
 house of Orleans, guided by Talleyrand, may give this move- 
 ment the resemblance, and even the character, of a middle- 
 class revolution. It is no such thing ; the barricades were not 
 erected by the middle class. I know these people ; it is a fra- 
 ternity, not a nation. Europe is honeycombed with their secret 
 societies. They are spread all over Spain. Italy is entirely 
 mined. I know more of the southern than the northern na- 
 tions, but I have been assured by one who should know, that 
 the brotherhood are organized throughout Germany and even 
 in Russia. I have spoken to the Duke about these things. He 
 is not indifferent, or altogether incredulous, but he is so essen- 
 tially practical that he can only deal with what he sees. I have 
 spoken to the Whig leaders. They tell me that there is only 
 one specific, and that a complete one — constitutional govern- 
 ment ; that with representative institutions, secret societies can 
 not coexist. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that with 
 these secret societies representative institutions rather will dis- 
 appear." 
 
34 ENDYMIOK 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 What unexpectedly took place in the southern part of 
 England, and especially in the maritime counties, during the 
 autumn of 1830, seemed rather to confirm the intimations of 
 Baron Sergius. The people in the rural districts had become 
 disaffected. Their discontent was generally attributed to the 
 abuses of the Poor Law, and to the lowness of their wages. 
 But the abuses of the Poor Law, though intolerable, were gen- 
 erally in favor of the laborer, and though wages in some parts 
 were unquestionably low, it was observed that the tumultuous 
 assemblies, ending frequently in riot, were held in districts 
 where this cause did not prevail. The most fearful feature of 
 the approaching anarchy was the frequent acts of incendiaries. 
 The blazing homesteads baffled the feeble police and the help- 
 less magistrates ; and the government had reason to believe that 
 foreign agents were actively promoting these mysterious crimes. 
 
 Amid partial discontent and general dejection came the 
 crash of the Wellington ministry, and it required all the in- 
 spiration of Zenobia to sustain William Ferrars under the trial. 
 But she was undaunted and sanguine as a morning in spring. 
 "Nothing could' persuade her that the Whigs could ever form a 
 government, and she was quite sure that the clerks in the pub- 
 lic offices alone could turn them out. When the Whig govern- 
 ment was formed, and its terrible programme announced, she 
 laughed it to scorn, and derided with inexhaustible merriment 
 the idea of the House of Commons passing a Reform Bill. She 
 held a great assembly the night that General Gascoyne defeated 
 the first measure by a majority of one, and passed an evening 
 of ecstasy in giving and receiving congratulations. The morrow 
 brought a graver brow, but still an indomitable spirit, and 
 through all these tempestuous times Zenobia never quailed, 
 though mobs burnt the castles of dukes and the palaces of 
 bishops. 
 
 Serious as was the state of affairs to William Ferrars, his 
 condition was not so desperate as that of some of his friends. 
 His seat at least was safe in the new Parliament that was to 
 
SPEECH OF FERRARS. 35 
 
 pass a Eeform Bill. As for the Tories generally, they were 
 swept off the board. Scarcely a constituenc}^, in which was a 
 popular element, was faithful to them. The counties in those 
 days were the great expounder? of popular principles, and 
 whenever England was excited, which was rare, she spoke 
 through her freeholders. In this instance almost every Tory 
 knight of the shire lost his seat except Lord Chandos, the 
 member for Buckinghamshire, who owed his success entirely 
 to his personal popularity. "Never mind," said Zenobia, 
 "what does it signify ? The Lords will throw it out." 
 
 And bravely and unceasingly she worked for this end. To 
 assist this purpose it was necessary that a lengthened and 
 powerful resistance to the measure should be made in the Com- 
 mons ; that the public mind should be impressed with its dan- 
 gerous principles, and its promoters cheapened by the expos- 
 ure of their corrupt arrangements and their inaccurate details. 
 It must be confessed that these objects were resolutely kept in 
 view, and that the Tory opposition evinced energy and abilities 
 not unworthy of a great parliamentary occasion. Ferrars par- 
 ticularly distinguished himself. He rose immensely in the 
 estimation of the House, and soon the public began to talk of 
 him. His statistics about the condemned boroughs were as- 
 tounding and unanswerable ; he was the only man who seemed 
 to know anything of the elements of the new ones. He was as 
 eloquent too as exact — sometimes as fervent as Burke, and 
 always as accurate as Cocker. 
 
 "I never thought it was in William Ferrars," said a mem- 
 ber, musingly, to a companion as they walked home one night ; 
 " I always thought him a good man of business, and all that 
 sort of thing — ^but, somehow or other, I did not think this was 
 in him." 
 
 "Well, he has a good deal at stake, and that brings it out 
 of a fellow," said his friend. 
 
 It was, however, pouring water upon sand. Any substantial 
 resistance to the measure was from the first out of the question. 
 Lord Chandos accomplished the only important feat, and that 
 was the enfranchisement of the farmers. This perpetual 
 struggle, however, occasioned a vast deal of excitement, and 
 
3^ ENDYMIOK 
 
 tlie actors in it often indulged in the wild credulity of impos- 
 sible expectations. The saloon of Zenobia was ever thronged, 
 and she was never more confident than when the bill passed 
 the Commons. She knew that the King would never give his 
 assent to the bill. His Majesty had had quite enough of going 
 down in hackney coaches to carry revolutions. After all, he 
 was the son of good King George, and the court would save 
 the country, as it had often done before. "But it will not 
 come to that," she added. " The Lords will do their duty." 
 
 **But Lord Waverley tells me," said Ferrars, "that thero 
 are forty of them who were against the bill last year who will 
 vote for the second reading." 
 
 *^ Never mind Lord Waverley and such addlebrains," said 
 Zenobia, with a smile of triumphant mystery. "So long as 
 we have the court, the Duke, and Lord Lyndhurst on our side, 
 we can afford to laugh at such conceited poltroons. His moth- 
 er was my dearest friend, and I know he used to have fits. 
 Look bright," she continued; "things never were better. 
 Before a week has passed these people will be nowhere. " 
 
 " But how is it possible ?" 
 
 "Trust me." 
 
 "I always do — and yet — " 
 
 " You never were nearer being a cabinet minister," she said, 
 with a radiant glance. 
 
 And Zenobia was right. Though the government, with the 
 aid of the waverers, carried the second reading of the bill, 
 a week afterward, on May 7th, Lord Lyndhurst rallied the 
 waverers again to his standard and carried his famous resolu- 
 tion, that the enfranchising clauses should precede the disfran- 
 chisement in the great measure. Lord Grey and his colleagues 
 resigned, and the King sent for Lord Lyndhurst. The bold 
 chief baron advised His Majesty to consult the Duke of Wel- 
 lington, and was himself the bearer of the King's message to 
 Apsley House. The Duke found the King "in great distress," 
 and he therefore did not hesitate in promising to endeavor to 
 form a ministry. 
 
 "Who was right ?" said Zenobia to Mr. Ferrars. "He is 
 so busy he could not write to you, but he told me to tell you 
 
HONORS. 37 
 
 to call at Apsley House at twelve to-morrow. You will be in 
 the cabinet." 
 
 ^^I have got it at last!" said Ferrars to himself. "It is 
 worth living for and at any peril. All the cares of life sink 
 into insignificance under such circumstances. The difiiculties 
 are great, but their very greatness will furnish the means of 
 their solution. The Crown can not be dragged in the mud, 
 and the Duke was born for conquest." 
 
 A day passed, and another day, and Ferrars was not again 
 summoned. The affair seemed to hang fire. Zenobia was still 
 brave, but Ferrars, who knew her thoroughly, could detect her 
 lurking anxiety. Then she told him in confidence that Sir 
 Robert made difficulties, ^^but there is nothing in it," she 
 added. ** The Duke has provided for everything, and he means 
 Sir Robert to be Premier. He could not refuse that ; it would 
 be almost an act of treason." Two days after she sent for Mr. 
 Ferrars, early in the morning, and received him in her boudoir. 
 Her countenance was excited, but serious. "Don't be 
 alarmed," she said ; "nothing will prevent a government be- 
 ing formed, but Sir Robert has thrown us over ; I never had 
 confidence in him. It is most provoking, as Mr. Baring had 
 joined us, and it was such a good name for the city. But the 
 failure of one man is the opportunity of another. We want a 
 leader in the House of Commons. He must be a man who can 
 speak ; of experience, who knows the House, its forms, and all 
 that. There is only one man indicated. You can not doubt 
 about him. I told you honors would be tumbling on your 
 head. You are the man ; you are to have one of the highest 
 offices in the cabinet, and lead the House of Commons." 
 
 " Peel declines," said Ferrars, speaking slowly and shaking 
 his head. " That is very serious." 
 
 " For himself," said Zenobia, " not for you. It makes your 
 fortune." 
 
 " The difficulties seem too great to contend with." 
 
 " What difficulties are there ? You have got the court, 
 and you have got the House of Lords. Mr. Pitt was not nearly 
 80 well off, for he had never been in office, and had at the same 
 time to fight Lord Northrand that wicked Mr. Fox, the orator 
 
38 ENDYMION. 
 
 of the day, while you have only got Lord Althorp, who can't 
 order his own dinner." 
 
 "I am in amazement," said Ferrars, and he seemed plunged 
 in thought. 
 
 "But you do not hesitate ?" 
 
 "No," he said, looking up dreamily, for he had been lost 
 in abstraction ; and speaking in a measured and hollow voice, 
 "I do not hesitate." Then resuming a brisk tone he said, 
 "This is not an age for hesitation; if asked, I will do the 
 deed." 
 
 At this moment there was a tap at the door, and the groom 
 of the chambers brought in a note for Mr. Ferrars, which had 
 been forwarded from his own residence, and which requested 
 his presence at Apsley House. Having read it, he gave it to 
 Zenobia, who exclaimed with delight, " Do not lose a moment. 
 I am so glad to have got rid of Sir Robert with his doubts and 
 his difficulties. We want new blood." 
 
 That was a wonderful walk for William Ferrars, from St. 
 James' Square to Apsley House. As he moved along, he was 
 testing his courage and capacity for the sharp trials that awaited 
 him. He felt himself not unequal to conjunctures in which 
 he had never previously indulged even in imagination. His 
 had been an ambitious, rather than a soaring spirit. He had 
 never contemplated the possession of power except under the 
 aegis of some commanding chief. Now it was for him to con- 
 trol senates and guide councils. He screwed himself up to the 
 sticking-point. Desperation is sometimes as powerful an in- 
 spirer as genius. 
 
 The great man was alone — calm, easy, and courteous. He 
 had sent for Mr. Ferrars, because having had one interview 
 with him, in which his cooperation had been requested in the 
 conduct of affairs, the Duke thought it was due to him to give 
 him the earliest intimation of the change of circumstances. 
 The vote of the House of Commons on the motion of Lord 
 Ebrington had placed an insurmountable barrier to the forma- 
 tion of a government, and his grace had accordingly relin- 
 quished the commission with which he had been intrusted by 
 the Kinff. 
 
num. 39 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AvAiLiKG himself of his latch-key, Ferrars reentered his 
 home unnoticed. He went at once to his library, and locked 
 the door of the apartment. There, sitting before his desk, he 
 buried his face in his hands, and remained in that posture for 
 a considerable time. 
 
 They were tumultuous and awful thoughts that passed over 
 his brain. The dreams of a life were dissipated, and he had to 
 encounter the stern reality of his position — and that was Ruin. 
 He was without hope and without resource. His debts were 
 yast ; his patrimony was a fable ; and the mysterious inheri- 
 tance of his wife had been tampered with. The elder Ferrars 
 had left an insolvent estate ; he had supported his son liber- 
 ally, but latterly from his son's own resources. The father 
 had made himself the principal trustee of the son's marriage 
 settlement. His colleague, a relatiye of the heiress, had died, 
 and care was taken that no one should be substituted in his 
 stead. All this had been discovered by Ferrars on his father's 
 death, but ambition and the excitement of a life of blended 
 elation and peril had sustained him under the concussion. 
 One by one every chance had vanished : first his private me^ns 
 and then his public prospects ; he had lost office, and now he 
 was about to lose Parliament. His whole position, so long, 
 and carefully, and skillfully built up, seemed to dissolve, and 
 dissipate into insignificant fragments. And now he had to 
 break the situation to his wife. She was to become the un- 
 prepared partner of the secret which had gnawed at his heart 
 for years, during which to her his mien had often been smiling 
 and always serene. Mrs. Ferrars was at home, and alone, in 
 her luxurious boudoir, and he went to her at once. After 
 years of dissimulation, now that all was over, Fen-ars could 
 not bear the suspense of four-and-twenty hours. 
 
 It was difficult to bring her into a mood of mind capable 
 of comprehending a tithe of what she had to learn ; and yet 
 the darkest part of the tale she was never to know. Mrs. Fer- 
 rars, though singularly intuitive, shrank from controversy, 
 
40 END7MI0K 
 
 and settled everything by contradiction and assertion. She 
 maintained for a long time that what her husband communi- 
 cated to her could not be ; that it was absurd, and even impos- 
 sible. After a while, she talked of selling her diamonds and 
 reducing her equipages, sacrificing which she assumed would 
 put everything right. And when she found her husband still 
 grave and still intimating that the sacrifices must be beyond 
 all this, and that they must prepare for the life and habits of 
 another social sphere, she became violent, and wept, and de- 
 clared her wrongs ; that she had been deceived and outraged 
 and infamously treated. 
 
 Eemembering how long and with what apparent serenity 
 in her presence he had endured his secret woes, and how one 
 of the principal objects of his life had ever been to guard her 
 even from a /Shade of solicitude, €ven the restrained Ferrars 
 was affected ; his countenance changed and his eye became 
 suffused. When she observed this, she suddenly threw her 
 arms round his neck, and, with many embraces, amid sighs 
 and tears, exclaimed, "Oh, William ! if we love each other, 
 what does anything signify ? " 
 
 And what could anything signify under such circumstances 
 and on such conditions ? As Ferrars pressed his beautiful 
 wife to his heart, he remembered only his early love, which 
 seemed entirely to revive. Unconsciously to himself, too, he 
 was greatly relieved by this burst of tenderness on her part, 
 for the prospect of this interview had been most distressful to 
 him. ** My darling," he said, **ours is not a case of common 
 imprudence or misfortune. We are the victims of a revolu- 
 tion, and we must bear our lot as becomes us under such cir- 
 cumstances. Individual misfortunes are merged in the greater 
 catastrophe of the country." 
 
 **That is the true view," said his wife ; **and, after all, 
 the poor King of France is much worse off than we are. How- 
 ever, I can not now buy the Duchesse of Sevres' lace, which I 
 had promised her to do. It is rather awkward. However, 
 the best way always is to speak the truth. I must tell the 
 duchess I am powerless, and that we are the victims of a revo- 
 lution, like herself." 
 
DIGNITY AND ECONOMY, 41 
 
 Then they began to talk quite cozily together over their 
 prospects, he sitting on the sofa by her side and holding her 
 hand. Mrs. Ferrars would not hear of retiring to the conti- 
 nent. "No," she said, with all her sanguine vein returning, 
 " you always used to say I brought you luck, and I will bring 
 you luck yet. There must be a reaction. The wheel will turn 
 and bring round our friends again. Do not let us then be out 
 of the way. Your claims are immense. They must do some- 
 thing for you. They ought to give you India, and if we only 
 set our mind upon it, we shall get it. Depend upon it, things 
 are not so bad as they seem. "What appear to be calamities are 
 often the sources of fortune. I would much sooner that you 
 should be Governor-General than a cabinet minister. That 
 odious House of Commons is very wearisome. I am not sure 
 any constitution can bear it very long. I am not sure whether 
 I would not prefer being Governor- General of India even to 
 being Prime Minister." / 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 In" consequence of the registration under the Eeform Act 
 it was not possible for Parliament to be dissolved, and an appeal 
 made to the new eonstituency, until the end of the year. This 
 was advantageous to Mr. Ferrars, and afforded him six months 
 of personal security to arrange his affairs. Both husband and 
 wife were proud, and were anxious to quit the world with dig- 
 nity. All were so busy about themselves at that period, and 
 the vicissitudes of life between continental revolutions and 
 English reform so various and extensive, that it was not diffi- 
 cult to avoid the scrutiny of society. Mrs. Ferrars broke to Ze- 
 nobia that, as her husband was no longer to be in Parliament, 
 they had resolved to retire for some time to a country life, 
 though, as Mr. Ferrars had at length succeeded in impressing 
 on his wife that their future income was to be counted by hun- 
 dreds, instead of thousands, it was difficult for her to realize a 
 rural establishment that should combine dignity and economy. 
 
42 ElfTDYMIOK 
 
 Without, however, absolutely alleging the cause, she contrived 
 to baffle the various propositions of this kind which the ener- 
 getic Zenobia made to her, and while she listened with appar- 
 ent interest to accounts of deer parks, and expensive shooting, 
 and delightful neighborhoods, would just exclaim, "Charm- 
 ing ! but rather more, I fancy, than we require, for we mean 
 to be very quiet till my girl is presented." 
 
 That young lady was now thirteen, and though her parents 
 were careful to say nothing in 'her presence which would ma- 
 terially reveal their real situation, for which they intended very 
 gradually to prepare her, the scrutinizing powers with which 
 nature had prodigally invested their daughter were not easily 
 baffled. She asked no questions, but nothing seemed to escape 
 the penetrative glance of that dark blue eye, calm amid all the 
 mystery, and tolerating rather than sharing the frequent em- 
 brace of her parents. After a while her brother came home 
 from Eton, to which he was never to return. A few days be- 
 fore this event she became unusually restless, and even agitated. 
 When he arrived, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Ferrars was at home. 
 He knocked gayly at the door, a schoolboy's knock, and was 
 hardly in the hall when his name was called, and he caught 
 the face of his sister leaning over the balustrade of the landing- 
 place. He ran upstairs with wondrous speed, and was in an 
 instant locked in her arms. She kissed him and kissed him 
 again, and when he tried to speak, she stopped his mouth with 
 kisses. And then she said, " Something has happened. What 
 it is I can not make out, but we are to have no more ponies." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 At the foot of the Berkshire downs, and itself on a gentle 
 elevation, there is an old hall with gable ends and lattice win- 
 dows, standing in grounds which once were stately, and where 
 there are yet glade-like terraces of yew trees, which give an air 
 of dignity to a neglected scene. In the front of the hall huge 
 gates of iron, highly wrought, and bearing an ancient date as 
 
EURSTLEY. 43 
 
 well as the shield of a noble house, opened on a village green, 
 round which were clustered the cottages of the parish with only 
 one exception, and that was the yicarage house, a modern build- 
 ing, not without taste, and surrounded by a small but brilliant 
 garden. The church was contiguous to the hall, and had been 
 raised by the lord on a portion of his domain. Behind the 
 hall and its inclosure, the country was common land but pic- 
 turesque. It had once been a beech forest, and though the 
 timber had been greatly cleared, the green land was still occa- 
 sionally dotted, sometimes with groups and sometimes with 
 single trees, while the juniper which here abounded, and rose 
 to a great height, gave a rich wildness to the scene, and sus- 
 tained its forest character. 
 
 Hurstley had for many years been deserted by the family 
 to which it belonged. Indeed, it was rather difficult to say to 
 whom it did belong.^ A dreary fate had awaited an ancient, 
 and, in its time, even not immemorable home. It had fallen 
 into chancery, and for the last half century had either been 
 uninhabited or let to strangers. Mr. Ferrars' lawyer was in 
 the chancery suit, and knew all about it. The difficulty of 
 finding a tenant for such a place, never easy, was increased by 
 its remoteness from any railway communication, which was 
 now beginning to figure as an important element in such ar- 
 rangements. The Master in Chancery would be satisfied with 
 a nominal rent, provided only he could obtain a family of con- 
 sideration to hold under him. Mr. Ferrars was persuaded to 
 go down alone to reconnoiter the place. It pleased him. It 
 was aristocratic, yet singularly inexpensive. The house con- 
 tained an immense hall, which reached the roof, and which 
 would have become a baronial mansion, and a vast staircase in 
 keeping ; but the living rooms were moderate, even small, in 
 dimensions, and not numerous. The land he was expected to 
 take consisted only of a few meadows, which he could let if 
 necessary, and a single laborer could manage the garden. 
 
 Mrs. Ferrars was so delighted with the description of the 
 galleried hall, that she resolved on their taking Hurstley with- 
 out even her previously visiting it. The only things she cared 
 for in the country were a hall and a pony-chair. 
 
44 ENDYMION. 
 
 All the carriages were sold, and all the servants discharged. 
 Two or three maid-servants and a man who must be found in 
 the country, who could attend them at table, and valet alike 
 his master and the pony, was the establishment which was to 
 succeed the crowd of retainers who had so long lounged away 
 their lives in the saloons of Hill Street, and the groves and 
 gardens of Wimbledon. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars and their daughter traveled down 
 to Hurstley in a post-chaise ; Endymion, with the servants, 
 was sent by the stage-coach, which accomplished the journey 
 of sixty miles in ten hours. Myra said little during the 
 journey, but an expression of ineffable contempt and dis- 
 gust seemed permanent on her countenance. Sometimes she 
 shrugged her shoulders, sometimes she raised her eyebrows, 
 and sometimes she turned up her nose. And then she gave a 
 sigh ; but it was a sigh not of sorrow, but of impatience. Her 
 parents lavished attentions on her which she accepted without 
 recognition, only occasionally observing that she wished she 
 had gone with Endymion. 
 
 It was dusk when they arrived at Hurstley, and the melan- 
 choly hour did not tend to raise their spirits. However, the 
 gardener's wife had lit a good fire of beech- wood in the draw- 
 ing-room, and threw as they entered a pannier of cones upon 
 the logs, which crackled and cheerfully blazed away. Even 
 Myra seemed interested by the novelty of the wood fire and 
 the iron dogs. She remained by their side looking abstractedly 
 on the expiring logs, while her parents wandered about the 
 house and examined or prepared the requisite arrangements. 
 While they were yet absent, there was some noise and a con- 
 siderable bustle in the hall. Endymion and his retinue had 
 arrived. Then Myra immediately roused herself, and listened 
 like a startled deer. But the moment she caught his voice, an 
 expression of rapture suffused her countenance. It beamed 
 with vivacity and delight. She rushed away, pushed through 
 the servants and the luggage, embraced him and said, **We 
 will go over the house and see our rooms together." 
 
 Wandering without a guide and making many mistakes, 
 fortunately they soon met their parents. Mrs. Ferrars good- 
 
AN- AUTUMNAL MORK 45 
 
 naturedly recommenced her labors of inspection, and explained 
 all her plans. There was a very pretty room for Endymion, 
 and to-morrow it was to be very comfortable. He was quite 
 pleased. Then they were shown Myra's room, but she said 
 nothing, standing by with a sweet scoff, as it were, lingering 
 on her lips, while her mother disserted on all the excellences 
 of the chamber. Then they were summoned to tea. The 
 gardener's wife was quite a leading spirit, and had prepared 
 everything ; the curtains were drawn, and the room lighted ; 
 an urn hissed ; there were piles of bread and butter and a pyra- 
 mid of buttered toast. It was wonderful what an air of 
 comfort had been conjured up in this dreary mansion, and it 
 was impossible for the travelers, however wearied or chagrined, 
 to be insensible to the convenience and cheerfulness of all 
 around them. 
 
 When the meal was over, the children sat together in whis- 
 pering tattle. Mrs. Ferrars had left the room to see if all was 
 ready for their hour of retirement, and Mr. Ferrars was walk- 
 ing up and down the room, absorbed in thought. 
 
 "What do you think of it all, Endymion?" whispered 
 Myra to her twin. 
 
 " I rather like it," he replied. 
 
 She looked at him with a glance of blended love and mock- 
 ery, and then she said in his ear, " I feel as if we had fallen 
 from some star." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The morrow brought a bright autumnal morn, and every 
 one woke, if not happy, interested. There was much to see 
 and much to do. The dew was so heavy that the children were 
 not allowed to quit the broad gravel walk that bounded one 
 side of the old house, but they caught enticing vistas of the 
 gleamy glades, and the abounding light and shade softened and 
 adorned everything. Every sight and sound, too, was novel, 
 and from the rabbit that started out of the grove, stared at 
 
46 ENDYMION, 
 
 them and then disappeared, to the jays chattering in the more 
 distant woods, all was wonderment at least for a week. They 
 saw squirrels for the first time, and for the first time beheld a 
 hedgehog. Their parents were busy in the house ; Mr. Fer- 
 rars unpacking and settling his books, and his wife arranging 
 some few articles of ornamental furniture that had been saved 
 from the London wreck, and rendering their usual room of 
 residence as refined as was in her power. It is astonishing how 
 much effect a woman of taste can produce with a pretty chair or 
 two, full of fancy and color, a table clothed with a few books, 
 some family miniatures, a workbag of rich material, and some 
 toys that we never desert. "I have not much to work with," 
 said Mrs. Ferrars, with a sigh, " but I think the coloring is 
 pretty." 
 
 On the second day after their arrival, the rector and his 
 wife made them a visit. Mr. Penruddock was a naturalist, and 
 had written the history of his parish. He had escaped being 
 an Oxford don by being preferred early to this college living, 
 but he had married the daughter of a don, who appreciated the 
 grand manners of their new acquaintances, and who, when she 
 had overcome their first rather awe-inspiring impression, be- 
 came communicative and amused them much with her details 
 respecting the little world in which they were now to live. 
 She could not conceal her wonderment at the beauty of the 
 twins, though they were no longer habited in those dresses 
 which had once astonished even Mayfair. 
 
 Part of the scheme of the new life was the education of the 
 children by their parents. Mr. Ferrars had been a distin 
 guished scholar, and was still a good one. He was patient 
 and methodical, and deeply interested in his contemplated 
 task. So far as disposition was concerned the pupil was not 
 disappointing. Endymion was of an affectionate disposition 
 and inclined to treat his father with deference. He was gen- 
 tle and docile ; but he did not acquire knowledge with facility, 
 and was remarkably deficient in that previous information on 
 which his father counted. The other pupil was of a different 
 temperament. She learned with a glance, and remembered 
 with extraordinary tenacity everything she had acquired. But 
 
POLITICAL COMPOSITION. 47 
 
 she was neither tender nor deferential, and to induce her to 
 study you could not depend on the affections, but only on her 
 intelligence. So she was often fitful, capricious, or provoking, 
 and her mother, who, though accomplished and eager, had 
 neither the method nor the self-restraint of Mr. Ferrars, was 
 often annoyed and irritable. Then there were scenes, or rather 
 ebullitions on one side, for Myra was always unmoved and 
 enraging from her total want of sensibility. Sometimes it 
 became necessary to appeal to Mr. Ferrars, and her manner to 
 her father, though devoid of feeling, was at least not contemp- 
 tuous. Nevertheless, on the whole the scheme, as time went 
 on, promised to be not unsuccessful. Endymion, though not 
 rapidly, advanced surely, and made some amends for the years 
 that had been wasted in fashionable private schools and the 
 then frivolity of Eton. Myra, who, notwithstanding her early 
 days of indulgence, had enjoyed the advantage of admirable 
 governesses, was well grounded in more than one modern lan- 
 guage, and she soon mastered them. And in due time, though 
 much after the period on which we are now touching, she an- 
 nounced her desire to become acquainted with German, in those 
 days a much rarer acquirement than at present. Her mother 
 ^couid not help her in this respect, and that was perhaps an 
 additional reason for the study of this tongue, for Myra was 
 impatient of tuition, and not unjustly full of self-conscious- 
 ness. She took also the keenest interest in the progress of her 
 brother, made herself acquainted with all his lessons, and some- 
 times helped him in their achievement. 
 
 Though they had absolutely no acquaintance of any kind 
 except the rector and his family, life was not dull. Mr. Fer- 
 rars was always employed, for besides the education of his 
 children, he had systematically resumed a habit in which he 
 had before occasionally indulged, and that was political com- 
 position. He had in his lofty days been the author of more 
 than one essay, in the most celebrated periodical publication 
 of the Tories, which had commanded attention and obtained 
 celebrity. Many a public man of high rank and reputation, 
 and even more than one Prime Minister, had contributed in 
 their time to its famous pages, but never without being paid. 
 
4:8 ENDYMIOK 
 
 It was the organic law of this publication, that gratuitous con- 
 tributions should never be admitted. And in this principle 
 there was as much wisdom as pride. Celebrated statesmen 
 would point with complacency to the snuff-box or the picture 
 which had been purchased by their literary labor, and there 
 was more than one bracelet on the arm of Mrs. Ferrars, and 
 more than one genet in her stable, which had been the reward 
 of a profound or a slashing article by William. 
 
 What had been the occasional diversion of political life was 
 now to be the source of regular income. Though living in 
 profound solitude, Ferrars had a vast sum of political experi- 
 ence to draw upon, and though his training and general intel- 
 ligence were in reality too exclusive and academical for the 
 stirring age which had now opened, and on which he had un- 
 happily fallen, they nevertheless suited the audience to which 
 they were particularly addressed. His Corinthian style, in 
 which the Maenad of Mr. Burke v/as habited in the last mode 
 of Almack's, his sarcasms against the illiterate and his invec- 
 tives against the low, his descriptions of the country life of the 
 aristocracy contrasted with the horrors of the guillotine, his 
 Horatian allusions and his Virgilian passages, combined to pro- 
 duce a whole which equally fascinated and alarmed his readers. 
 
 These contributions occasioned some communications with 
 the editor or publisher of the Review, which were not without 
 interest. Parcels came down by the coach, inclosing not mere- 
 ly proof sheets, but frequently new books — the pamphlet of the 
 hour before it was published, or a volume of discoveries in un- 
 known lands. It was a link to the world they had quitted 
 without any painful associations. Otherwise their communi- 
 cations with the outer world were slight and rare. It is diffi- 
 cult for us who live in an age of railroads, telegraphs, penny 
 posts and penny newspapers, to realize how uneventful, how 
 limited in thought and feeling, as well as in incident, was the 
 life of an English family of retired habits and limited means, 
 only forty years ago. The whole world seemed to be morally, 
 as well as materially, "adscripti glebae." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars did not wish to move, but had they 
 so wished, it would have been under any circumstances for 
 
 i 
 
EXCURSIONS . OF DISCO VER Y. , 49 
 
 them a laborious and costly affair. The only newspaper they 
 saw was the " Evening Mail," which arrived three times a week, 
 and was the '* Times " newspaper with all its contents except 
 its advertisements. As the ** Times " newspaper had the credit 
 of mainly contributing to the passing of Lord Grey's Reform 
 Bill, and was then whispered to enjoy the incredible sale of 
 twelve thousand copies daily, Mr. Ferrars assumed that in its 
 columns he would trace the most authentic intimations of com- 
 ing events. The cost of postage was then so heavy, that do- 
 mestic correspondence was necessarily very restricted. But 
 this vexatious limitation hardly applied to the Ferrars. They 
 had never paid postage. They were born and had always lived 
 in the franking world, and although Mr. Ferrars had now him- 
 self lost the privilege, both official and parliamentary, still all 
 their correspondents were frankers, and they addressed their 
 replies without compunction to those who were free. Never- 
 theless, it was astonishing how little in their new life they cared 
 to avail themselves of this correspondence. At first, Zenobia 
 wrote every week, almost every day, to Mrs. Ferrars, but after 
 a time Mrs. Ferrars, though at first pleased by the attention, 
 felt its recognition a burden. Then Zenobia, who at length, 
 for the first time in her life, had taken a gloomy view of affairs, 
 relapsed into a long silence, and in fact had nearly forgotten 
 the Ferrars, for, as she herself used to say, ** How can one rec- 
 ollect people whom one never meets ? " 
 
 In the mean time, for we have been a little anticipating in 
 our last remarks, the family at Hurstley were much pleased 
 with the country they now inhabited. They made excursions 
 of discovery into the interior of their world, Mrs. Ferrars and 
 Myra in the pony-chair, her husband and End3rmion walking 
 by their side, and Endymion sometimes taking his sister's seat 
 against his wish, but in deference to her irresistible will. Even 
 Myra could hardly be insensible to the sylvan wildness of the 
 old chase, and the romantic villages in the wooded clefts of the 
 downs. As for Endymion he was delighted, and it seemed to 
 him, perhaps he unconsciously felt it, that this larger and 
 more frequent experience of nature was a compensation for 
 much which they had lost. 
 
 D 8 
 
60 . END Y MI ON. 
 
 After a time, when they had become a little acquainted 
 with their simple neighborhood, and the first impression of 
 wildness and novelty had worn out, the twins were permitted 
 to walk together alone, though within certain limits. The 
 village and its vicinity was quite free, but they were not per- 
 mitted to enter the woods, and not to wander on the chase out 
 of sight of the mansion. These walks alone with Endymion 
 were the greatest pleasure of his sister. She delighted to make 
 him tell her of his life at Eton, and if she ever sighed it was 
 when she lamented that his residence there had been so short. 
 Then they found an inexhaustible fund of interest and sym- 
 pathy in the past. They wondered if they ever should have 
 ponies again. " I think not," said Myra, *^and yc*^^ how merry 
 to scamper together over this chase ! " 
 
 *'But they would not let us go," said Endymion, "without 
 a groom. " 
 
 "A groom!" exclaimed Myra, with an elfish laugh; "I 
 believe, if the truth were really known, we ought to be making 
 our own beds and washing our own dinner plates." 
 
 "And are you sorry, Myra, for all that has happened?" 
 asked Endymion. 
 
 " I hardly know what has happened. They keep it very 
 close. But I am too astonished to be sorry. Besides, what is 
 the use of whimpering ? " 
 
 " I cried very much one day," said Endymion. 
 
 " Ah ! you are soft, dear darling. I never cried in my life, 
 except once with rage." 
 
 At Christmas a new character appeared on the stage, the 
 rector's son, Nigel. He had completed a year with a private 
 tutor, and was on the eve of commencing his first term at 
 Oxford, being eighteen, nearly five years older than the twins. 
 He was tall, with a countenance of remarkable intelligence and 
 power, though still softened by the innocence and bloom of 
 boyhood. He was destined to be a clergyman. The twins 
 were often thrown into his society, for though too old to be 
 their mere companion, his presence was an excuse for Mrs. 
 Penruddock more frequently joining them in their strolls, and 
 under her auspices tiheir wanderings had no limit, except the 
 
FARMER THORNBERRY. 51 
 
 shortness of the days ; but they found some compensation for 
 this in their frequent visits to the rectory, which was a cheerful 
 and agreeable home, full of stuffed birds, and dried plants, and 
 marvelous fishes, and other innocent trophies and triumphs 
 over nature. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The tenant of the Manor Farm was a good specimen of his 
 class ; a thorough Saxon, ruddy and bright visaged, with an 
 athletic though rather bulky fram_e, hardened by exposure to 
 the seasons and constant exercise. Although he was the tenant 
 of several hundred acrps, he had an eye to the main chance in 
 little things, which is a characteristic of farmers, but he was 
 good-natured and obliging, and while he foraged their pony, 
 furnished their woodyard with logs and fagots, and supplied 
 thom from his dairy, he gi'atuitously performed for the family 
 at the hall many other offices which tended to their comfort 
 and convenience, but which cost him nothing. 
 
 Mr. Ferrars liked to have a chat every now and then with 
 Farmer Thornberry, who had a shrewd and idiomatic style of 
 expressing his limited, but in its way complete, experience of 
 men and things, which was amusing and interesting to a man 
 of the world whose knowledge of rural life was mainly derived 
 from grand shooting parties at great houses. 
 
 The pride and torment of Farmer Thornberry's life was his 
 only child, Job. 
 
 '' I gave him the best of educations," said the farmer ; " he 
 had a much better chance than I had myself, for I do not pre- 
 tend to be a scholar, and never was ; and yet I can not make 
 head or tail of him. I wish you would speak to him some day, 
 sir. He goes against the land, and yet we have been on it for 
 three generations, and have nothing to complain of ; and he is 
 a good farmer too, is Job, none better ; a little too fond of 
 experimenting, but then he is young. But I am very much 
 afraid he will leave me. I think it is this new thing the big- 
 
52 ENDYMIOii. 
 
 wigs have set up in London that has put him wrong, for he is 
 always reading their papers." 
 
 * ^ And what is that ? " said Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 " Well, they call themselves the Society for the Diffusion 
 of Knowledge, and Lord Brougham is at the head of it." 
 
 "Ah ! he is a dangerous man," said Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 *'Do you know, I think he is," said Farmer Thornberry, 
 very seriously, " and by this token — ^he says a knowledge of 
 chemistry is necessary for the cultivation of the soil." 
 
 ** Brougham is a man who would say anything," said Mr. 
 Ferrars, **andof one thing you may be quite certain, that 
 there is no subject which Lord Brougham knows thoroughly. 
 I have proved that, and if you ever have time some winter 
 evening to read something on the matter, I will lend you a 
 number of the ' Quarterly Review,' which might interest you." 
 
 "I wish you would lend it to Job," said the farmer. 
 • Mr. Ferrars found Job not so manageable in controversy as 
 his father. His views were peculiar, and his conclusions cer- 
 tain. He had more than a smattering too of political economy, 
 a kind of knowledge which Mr. Ferrars viewed with suspicion ; 
 for though he had himself been looked upon as enlightened 
 in this respect in the last years of Lord Liverpool, when Lord 
 Wallace and Mr. Huskisson were astonishing the world, he 
 had relapsed, after the schism of the Tory party, into ortho- 
 doxy, and was satisfied that the tenets of the economists were 
 mere theories, or could only be reduced into practice by revo- 
 lution. 
 
 " But it is a pleasant life, that of a farmer," said Mr. Fer- 
 rars to Job. 
 
 " Yes, but life should be something more than pleasant," 
 said Job, who always looked discontented ; " an ox in a pasture 
 has a pleasant life." 
 
 "Well, and why should it not be a profitable one, too ?" 
 said Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 " I do not see my way to that," said Job, moodily ; " there 
 is not much to be got out of the land at any time, and still less 
 on the terms we hold it." 
 
 " But YOU are not high-rented I " 
 
JOB'S OPINIONS. 53 
 
 " Oh, rent is nothing, if everything else were right, but 
 nothing is right," said Job. " In the first place, a farmer is 
 the only trader who has no security for his capital." 
 
 "Ah ! you want a lease ? " 
 
 " I should be very sorry to have a lease like any that I have 
 seen," replied Job. " We had one once in our family, and we 
 keep it as a curiosity. It is ten skins long, and more tyranni- 
 cal nonsense was never engrossed by man. " 
 
 " But your family, I believe, has been on this estate for 
 generations now " said Mr. Ferrars, "and they have done well." 
 
 " They nave done about as well as their stock. They have 
 existed," said Job ; " nothing more." 
 
 " Your father always gives me quite the idea of a prosper- 
 ous man," said Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 " Whether he be or not I am sure I can not say," said Job ; 
 " for as neither he nor any of his predecessors ever kept any 
 accountc, it is rather difficult to ascertain their exact condition. 
 So lorg as he has money enough in his pocket to pay his labor- 
 ers and buy a little stock, my father, like every British farmer, 
 is content. The fact is, he is a serf as much as his men, and 
 until we get rid of feudalism he will remain so." 
 
 " These are strong opinions," said Mr. Ferrars, drawing 
 himself up, and looking a little cold. 
 
 " Yes, but they will make their way," said Job. " So far 
 as I myself am concerned, I do not much care what happens to 
 the land, for I do not mean to remain on it ; but I care for the 
 country. For the sake of the country I should like to see the 
 whole thing upset." 
 
 " What thing ? " asked Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 "Feudalism," said Job. "I should like to see this estate 
 managed on the same principles as they do their great estab- 
 lishments in the north of England. Instead of feudalism, I 
 would substitute the commercial principle. I would have long 
 leases without covenants ; no useless timber, and no game." 
 
 " Why, you would destroy the country," said Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 "We owe everything to the large towns," said Job. 
 
 " The people in the large towns are miserable," said Mr. 
 Ferrars. 
 
54 ENLYMION. 
 
 " They can not be more miserable than the people in tho 
 country," said Job. 
 
 " Their wretchedness is notorious," said Mr. Ferrars. 
 *' Look at their riots." 
 
 "Well, we had Swing in the country only two or three 
 years ago." 
 
 Mr. Ferrars looked sad. The reminiscence was too near 
 and too fatal. After a pause he said with an air of decision, 
 and as if imparting a state secret, " If it were not for the agri- 
 cultural districts, the King's army could not be recruited." 
 
 " "Well, that would not break my heart," said Job. 
 
 *' Why, my good fellow, you are a Kadical ! " 
 
 *' They may call me what they like," said Job ; " but it will 
 not alter matters. However, I am going among the Kadicals 
 soon, and then I shall know what they are." 
 
 "And can you leave your truly respectable parent ?" said 
 Mr. Ferrars rather solemnly, for he remembered his promise to 
 Farmer Thornberry to speak seriously to his son. ^" 
 
 " Oh ! my respectable parent will do very well without me, 
 sir. Only let him be able to drive into Bamford on market 
 day, and get two or three linendrapers to take their hats off to 
 him, and he will be happy enough, and always ready to die for 
 our glorious Constitution." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 EiGHTEEjq^ HUNDRED AND THIRTY-TWO, the darkest and 
 most distressing year in the life of Mr. Ferrars, closed in com- 
 parative calm and apparent content. He was himself greatly 
 altered, both in manner and appearance. He was kind and 
 gentle, but he was silent, and rarely smiled. His hair was 
 grizzled, and he began to stoop. But he was always employed, 
 and was interested in his labors. 
 
 His sanguine wife bore up against their misfortunes with 
 far more animation. She was at first amused with her new 
 life, and when she was. accustomed to it, she found a never- 
 
''LOOK OUT FOR SQUALLS^ 65 
 
 failing resource in her conyicfcion of a coming reaction. Mrs. 
 Ferrars possessed most feminine qualities, and many of them 
 in excess. She could not reason, but her intuition was remark- 
 able. She was of opinion that ^* these people never could go 
 on," and that they must necessarily be succeeded by William 
 and his friends. In vain her husband, when she pressed her 
 views and convictions on him, would shake his head over the 
 unprecedented majority of the government, and sigh while he 
 acknowledged that the Tories absolutely did not now command 
 one-fifth of the House of Commons ; his shakes and sighs were 
 equally disregarded by her, and she persisted in her dreams of 
 riding upon elephants. 
 
 After all Mrs. Ferrars was right. There is nothing more 
 remarkable in political history than the sudden break-up of the 
 Whig party after their successful revolution of 1832. It is one 
 of the most striking instances on record of all the elements of 
 political power being useless without a commanding individual 
 will. During the second year of their exile in the Berkshire 
 hills, affairs looked so black that it seemed no change could 
 occur except further and more calamitous revolution. Zenobia 
 went to Vienna that she might breathe the atmosphere of law 
 and order, and hinted to Mrs. Ferrars that probably she should 
 never return — at least not until Parliament met, when she 
 trusted the House of Lords, if they were not abolished in the 
 interval, would save the country. And yet at the commence- 
 ment of the following year an old colleague of Mr. Ferrars ap- 
 prised him, in the darkest and the deepest confidence, that 
 ^' there was a screw loose," and he must " look out for squalls." 
 
 In the mean time Mr. Ferrars increased and established his 
 claims on his party, if they ever did rally, by his masterly arti- 
 cles in their great Review, which circumstances favored, and 
 which kept up that increasing feeling of terror and despair 
 which then was deemed necessary to the advancement of Con- 
 servative opinions. 
 
 At home a year and more had elapsed without change. 
 The occasional appearance of Nigel Penruddock was the only 
 event. It was to all a pleasing, and to some of the family a 
 deeply interesting one. Nigel, though a student and devoted 
 
5$ ENDYMION, 
 
 to the holy profession for which he was destined, was also a 
 sportsman. His Christianity was muscular, and Endymion, 
 to whom he had taken a fancy, became the companion of his 
 pastimes. All the shooting of the estate was at Nigel's com- 
 mand, but as there were no keepers, it was of course very rough 
 work. Still it was a novel and animating life for Endymion ; 
 and though the sport was slight, the pursuit was keen. Then 
 Nigel was a great fisherman, and here their efforts had a surer 
 return, for they dwelt in a land of trout streams, and in their 
 vicinity was a not inconsiderable river. It was an adventure 
 of delight to pursue some of these streams to their source, 
 throwing, as they rambled on, the fly in the rippling waters. 
 Myra, too, took some pleasure in these fishing expeditions, car- 
 rying their luncheon and a German book in her wallet, and 
 sitting quietly on the bank for hours, when they had fixed upon 
 some favored pool for a prolonged campaign. 
 
 Every time that Nigel returned home, a difference, and a 
 striking difference, was observed in him. His person, of course, 
 became more manly, his manner more assured, his dress more 
 modish. It was impossible to deny that he was extremely 
 good-looking, interesting in his discourse, and distinguished 
 in his appearance. Endymion idolized him. Nigel was his 
 model. He imitated his manner, caught the tone of his voice, 
 and began to give opinions on subjects, sacred and profane. 
 
 After a hard morning's march, one day, as they were lolling 
 on the turf amid the old beeches and the juniper, Nigel said — 
 
 "What does Mr. Ferrars mean you* to be, Endymion ?" 
 
 "I do not know," said Endymion, looking perplexed. 
 
 "But I suppose you are to be something ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I suppose I must be something ; because papa has 
 lost his fortune." ^ 
 
 "And what would you like to be ?" 
 
 " I never thought about it," said Endymion. 
 
 " In my opinion there is only one thing for a man to be in 
 this age," said Nigel peremptorily ; "he should go into the 
 Church." 
 
 " The Church ! " said Endymion. 
 
 *' There will soon be nothing else left," said Nigel. " The 
 
NIGEL AND ENDYMION 57 
 
 Church must last for ever. It is built upon a rock. It was 
 founded by God' ; all other goyernments have been founded by 
 men. When they are destroyed, and the process of destruction 
 seems rapid, there will be nothing left to govern mankind ex- 
 cept the Church." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Endymion ; "papa is very much in 
 favor of the Church, and, I know, is writing something 
 about it." 
 
 "Yes, but Mr. Ferrars is an Erastian," said Nigel; "you 
 need not tell him I said so, but he is one. He wants the 
 Church to be the servant of the State, and all that sort of 
 thing, but that will not do any longer. This destruction of 
 the Irish bishoprics has brought affairs to a crisis. No human 
 power has the right to destroy a bishopric. It is a divinely 
 ordained office, and when a diocese is once established, it is 
 eternal." 
 
 " I see," said Endymion, much interested. 
 
 "I wish," continued Nigel, "you were two or three years 
 older, and Mr. Ferrars could send you to Oxford. That is the 
 place to understand these things, and they will soon be the 
 only things to understand. The rector knows nothing about 
 them. My father is thoroughly high and dry, and has not the 
 slightest idea of Church principles." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Endymion. 
 
 "It is quite a new set even at Oxford," continued Nigel ; 
 "but their principles are as old as the Apostles, and come 
 down from them straight." 
 
 " That is a long time ago," said Endymion. 
 
 " I have a great fancy," continued Nigel, without appar- 
 ently attending to him, " to give you a thorough Church edu- 
 cation. It would be the making of you. You would then 
 have a purpose in life, and never be in doubt or perplexity on 
 any subject. We ought to move heaven and earth to induce 
 Mr. Ferrars to send you to Oxford." 
 
 "I will speak to Myra about it," said Endymion. 
 
 " I said something of this to your sister the other day," 
 said Nigel, "but I fear she is terribly Erastian. However, I 
 will give you something to read. It is not very long, but you 
 
58 EKDYMIOK 
 
 can read it at your leisure, and then we will talk over it after- 
 ward, and perhaps I may give you something else.i^ 
 
 Endymion did not fail to give a report of this conversation 
 and similar ones to his sister, for he was in the habit of telling 
 her everything. She listened with attention, but not with 
 interest to his story. Her expression was kind, but hardly 
 serious. Her wondrous eyes gave him a glance of blended 
 mockery and affection. " Dear darling," she said, '^ if you arc 
 to be a clergyman, I should like you to be a cardinal." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The dark deep hints that had reached Mr. Ferrars at the 
 beginning of 1834 were the harbingers of startling events. In 
 the spring it began to be rumored among the initiated, that 
 the mighty Reform Cabinet with its colossal majority, and its 
 testimonial goblets of gold, raised by the penny subscriptions 
 of a grateful people, was in convulsions, and before the month 
 of July had elapsed Lord Grey had resigned, under circum- 
 stances which exhibited the entire demoralization of his party. 
 Except Zenobia, every one was of opinion that the King acted 
 wisely in intrusting the reconstruction of the Whig ministry 
 to his late Secretary of State, Lord Melbourne. Nevertheless 
 it could no longer be concealed, nay, it was invariably admit- 
 ted, that the political situation had been largely and most un- 
 expectedly changed, and that there was a prospect, dim per- 
 haps, yet not undefinable, of the conduct of public affairs again 
 falling to the alternate management of two rival constitutional 
 parties. 
 
 Zenobia was so full of hope, and almost of triumph, that 
 she induced her lord in the autumn to assemble their political 
 friends at one of his great seats, and Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars were 
 urgently invited to join the party. But, after some hesitation, 
 they declined this proposal. Had Mr. Ferrars been as sanguine 
 as his wife, he would perhaps have overcome his strong disin- 
 clination to reenter the world, but though no longer despairing 
 
A LETTER, 59 
 
 of a Tory revival, he was of opinion that a considerable period, 
 even several years, must elapse before its occurrence. Strange 
 to say, he found no difficulty in following his own humor 
 through any contrary disposition on the part of Mrs. Ferrars. 
 With all her ambition and passionate love of society, she was 
 unwilling to return to that stage, where she once had blazed, 
 in a subdued and almost subordinate position. In fact, it was 
 an affair of the wardrobe. The queen of costumes, whose 
 fanciful and gorgeous attire even Zenobia was wont to praise, 
 could not endure a reappearance in old dresses. *^I do not so 
 much care about my jewels, William," she said to her husband, 
 *^but one must have new dresses," 
 
 It was a still mild day in November, a month which in the 
 country, and especially on the light soils, has many charms, 
 and the whole Ferrars family were returning home after an 
 afternoon ramble on the chase. The leaf had changed but had 
 not fallen, and the vast spiral masses of the dark-green juniper 
 effectively contrasted with the rich brown foliage of the beech, 
 varied occasionally by the scarlet leaves of the wild cherry tree, 
 that always mingles with these woods. Around the house were 
 some lime trees of large size, and at this period of the year, their 
 foliage, still perfect, was literally quite golden. They seemed 
 like trees in some fairy tale of imprisoned princesses or wander- 
 ing cavaliers, and such they would remain, until the fatal night 
 that brings the first frost. 
 
 " "There is a parcel from London," said the servant to Mr. 
 Ferrars, as they entered the house. '^It is on your desk." 
 
 A parcel from London was one of the great events of their 
 life. What could it be ? Perhaps some proofs, probably some 
 books. Mr. Ferrars entered his room alone. It was a very 
 small brown paper parcel, evidently not books. He opened it 
 hastily, and disencumbered its contents of several coverings. 
 The contents took the form of a letter — a single letter. 
 
 The handwriting was recognized, and he read the letter 
 with an agitated countenance, and then he opened the door of 
 his room, and called loudly for his wife, who was by his side 
 in a few moments. 
 
 "A letter, my love, from Barron," he cried. '^The King 
 
60 ENDYMION, 
 
 has dismissed Lord Melbourne and sent for the Duke of Wel- 
 lington, who has accepted the conduct of affairs." 
 
 "You must go to town directly," said his wife. "He 
 offered you the Cabinet in 1832. No person has such a strong 
 claim on him as you have." 
 
 "It does not appear that he is exactly prime minister," said 
 Mr. Ferrars, looking again at the letter. " They have sent for 
 Peel, who is at Rome, but the Duke is to conduct the govern- 
 ment till he arrives." 
 
 ."You must go to town immediately," repeated Mrs. Ferrars. 
 " There is not a moment to be lost. Send down to the Horse 
 Shoe and secure an inside place in the Salisbury coach. It 
 reaches this place at nine to-morrow morning. I will have 
 everything ready. You must take a portmanteau and a carpet- 
 bag. I wonder if you could get a bedroom at the Rodneys'. 
 It would be so nice to be among old friends ; they must feel 
 for you. And then it will be near the Carlton, which is a great 
 thing. I wonder how he will form his cabinet. What a pity 
 he is not here ! " 
 
 "It is a wonderful event, but the diflBculties must be im- 
 mense," observed Ferrars. 
 
 " Oh ! you always see difficulties. I see none. The King 
 is with us, the country is disgusted. It is what I always said 
 would be ; the reaction is complete." 
 
 "Well, we had better now go and tell the children," said 
 Ferrars. "I leave you all here for the first time," and he 
 seemed to sigh. 
 
 "Well, I hope we shall soon join you," said Mrs. Ferrars, 
 "It is the very best time for hiring a house. What I have set 
 my heart upon is the Green Park. It will be near your office, 
 and not too near. I am sure I could not live again in a street." 
 
 The children were informed that public events of impor- 
 tance had occurred, that the King had changed his ministry, 
 and that papa must go up to town immediately and see the 
 Duke of Wellington. The eyes of Mrs. Ferrars danced with 
 excitement as she communicated to them all this intelligence, 
 and much more, with a volubility in which, of late years, she 
 had rarely indulged. Mr. Ferrars looked grave and said little. 
 
TRAVELING PREPARATIONS. 61 
 
 Then he patted Endymion on the head and kissed Myra, who 
 returned his embrace with a warmth unusual with her. 
 
 The whole household soon became in a state of bustle with 
 the preparations for the early departure of Mr. Ferrars. It 
 seemed difficult to comprehend how filling a portmanteau and 
 a carpet-bag could induce such excited and continuous exer- 
 tions. But then there was so much to remember, and then 
 there was always something forgotten. Mrs. Ferrars was in 
 her bedroom, surrounded by all her maids ; Mr. Ferrars was 
 in his study, looking out some papers which it was necessary 
 to take with him. The children were alone. 
 
 "I wonder if we shall be restored to our greatness," said 
 Myra to Endymion. 
 
 **Well, I shall be sorry to leave the old place ; I have been 
 happy here." 
 
 "I have not," said Myra ; ^'and I do not think I could 
 have borne this life had it not been for you." 
 
 *' It will be a wonderful change," said Endymion. 
 
 ** If it come ; I fear papa is not daring enough. However, 
 if we get out of this hole, it will be something." 
 
 Tea-time brought them all together again, but when the 
 meal was over none of the usual occupations of the evening 
 were pursued ; no work, no books, no reading aloud. Mr. 
 Ferrars was to get up very early, and that was a reason for all 
 retiring soon. And yet neither the husband nor the wife really 
 cared to sleep. Mrs. Ferrars sat by the fire in his dressing- 
 room, speculating on all possible combinations, and infusing 
 into him all her suggestions and all her schemes. She was 
 still prudent and still would have preferred a great govern- 
 ment — India, if possible — ^but had made up her mind that he 
 must accept the cabinet. Considering what had occurred in 
 1832, she thought he was bound in honor to do so. Her hus- 
 band listened rather than conversed, and seemed lost in 
 thought. At last he rose, and, embracing her with much af- 
 fection, said : " You forget I am to rise with the lark. I shall 
 write to you every day. Best and dearest of women, you have 
 always been right, and all my good fortune has come from 
 you." 
 
62 ENBTMIOK 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It was a very tedious journey, and it took the whole day to 
 accomplish a distance which a rapid express train now can 
 achieve in an hour. Tlje coach carried six inside passengers, 
 and they had to dine on the road. All the passengers were 
 strangers to Mr. Ferrars, and he was by them unknown ; one 
 of them purchased, though with difficulty, a second edition of 
 the '* Times " as they approached London, and favored his fel- 
 low travelers with the news of the change of ministry. There 
 was much excitement, and the purchaser of the paper gave it 
 as his opinion, "that it was an intrigue of the Court and the 
 Tories, and would never do." Another modestly intimated 
 that he thought there was a decided reaction. A third an- 
 nounced that England would never submit to be governed by 
 O'Connell. 
 
 As the gloom of evening descended, Mr. Ferrars felt de- 
 pressed. Though his life at Hurstley had been pensive and 
 melancholy, he felt now the charm and the want of that sweet 
 domestic distraction which had often prevented his mind from 
 overbrooding, and had softened life by sympathy in little things. 
 Nor was it without emotion that he found himself again in 
 London, that proud city where once he had himself been so 
 proud. The streets were lighted, and seemed swarming with 
 an infinite population, and the coach finally stopped at a great 
 inn in the Strand, where Mr. Ferrars thought it prudent to 
 secure accommodation for the night. It was too late to look 
 after the Rodneys, but in deference to the strict injunction of 
 Mrs. Ferrars, he paid them a visit next morning on his way to 
 his political chief. 
 
 In the days of the great modistes, when an English lady 
 might absolutely be dressed in London, the most celebrated 
 mantua-maker in that city was Madame Euphrosyne. She 
 was as fascinating as she was fashionable. She was so graceful, 
 her manners were so pretty, so natural, and so insinuating ! 
 She took so lively an interest in her clients — ^her very heart 
 was in their good looks. She was a great favorite of Mrs. Fer- 
 
SYLVIA, 63 
 
 rars, and that lady of Madame Euphrosyne. She assured Mrs. 
 Ferrars that she was prouder of dressing Mrs. Ferrars than all 
 the other fine ladies in London together, and Mrs. Ferrars be- 
 lieved her. Unfortunately, while in the way of making a large 
 fortune, Madame Euphrosyne, who was romantic, fell in love 
 with, and married, a very handsome and worthless husband, 
 whose good looks had obtained for him a position in the com- 
 pany of Drury Lane Theatre, then a place of refined resort, 
 which his abilities did not justify. After pillaging and plun- 
 dering his wife for many years, he finally involved her in 
 such engagements, that she had to take refuge in the Bank- 
 ruptcy Court. Her business was ruined, and her spirit was 
 broken, and she died shortly after of adversity and chagrin. 
 Her daughter Sylvia was then eighteen, and had inherited 
 with the grace of her mother the beauty of her less reputable 
 jjarent. Her figure was slight and undulating, and she was 
 always exquisitely dressed. A brilliant complexion set off to 
 advantage her delicate features, which, though serene, were 
 not devoid of a certain expression of archness. Her white 
 hands were delicate, her light eyes inclined to merriment, and 
 her nose quite a gem, though a little turned up. 
 
 After their ruin, her profligate father told her that her face 
 was her fortune, and that she must provide for herself, in 
 which she would find no difficulty. But Sylvia, though she 
 had never enjoyed the advantage of any training, moral or re- 
 ligious, had no bad impulses even if she had no good ones, was 
 of a rather cold character, and extremely prudent. She re- 
 coiled from the life of riot, and disorder, and irregularity, in 
 which she had unwittingly passed her days, and which had 
 terminated so tragically, and she resolved to make an effort to 
 secure for herself a different career. She had heard that Mrs. 
 Ferrars was in want of an attendant, and she determined to 
 apply for the post. As one of the chief customers of her 
 mother, Sylvia had been in the frequent habit of waiting on 
 that lady, with whom she had become a favorite. She was so 
 pretty, and the only person who could fit Mrs. Ferrars. Her 
 appeal, therefore, was not in vain ; it was more than success- 
 ful. Mrs. Ferrars was attracted by Sylvia. Mrs. Ferrars was 
 
64 END7M10K. 
 
 magnificent, generous, and she liked to be a patroness and to 
 be surrounded bj favorites. She determined that Sylyia should 
 not sink into a menial position ; she adopted her as a humble 
 friend, and one who every day became more regarded by her. 
 Sylvia arranged her invitations to her receptions, a task which 
 required finish and precision ; sometimes wrote her notes. She 
 spoke and wrote French, too, and that was useful, was a mu- 
 sician, and had a pretty voice. Above all, she was a first-rate 
 counselor in costume ; and so, looking also after Mrs. Ferrars' 
 dogs and birds, she became almost one of the family ; dined 
 with them often when they were alone, and was frequently 
 Mrs. Ferrars' companion in her carriage. 
 
 Sylvia, though not by nature impulsive, really adored her 
 patroness. She governed her manners and she modeled her 
 dress on that great original, and, next to Mrs. Ferrars, Sylvia 
 in time became nearly the finest lady in London. There was, 
 indeed, much in Mrs. Ferrars to captivate a person like Sylvia. 
 Mrs. Ferrars was beautiful, fashionable, gorgeous, wonderfully 
 expensive, and, where her taste was pleased, profusely gener- 
 ous. Her winning manner was not less irresistible because it 
 was sometimes uncertain, and she had the art of being intigaate 
 without being familiar. 
 
 When the crash came, Sylvia was really broken-hearted, or 
 believed she was, and implored that she might attend the de- 
 posed sovereigns into exile ; but that was impossible, however 
 anxious they might be as to tlie future of their favorite. Her 
 destiny was sooner decided than they could have anticipated. 
 There was a member of the household, or rather family, in Hill 
 Street who bore almost the same relation to Mr. Ferrars as Syl- 
 via to his wife. This was Mr. Eodney, a remarkably good- 
 looking person, by nature really a little resembling his princi- 
 pal, and completing the resemblance by consummate art. The 
 courtiers of Alexander of Macedon could not study their chief 
 with more devotion, or more sedulously imitate his mien and 
 carriage, than did Mr. Eodney that distinguished individual of 
 whom he was the humble friend, and who he was convinced 
 was destined to be the Prime Minister of England. Mr. Rod- 
 ney was the son of the office-keeper of old Mr. Ferrars, and it 
 
MR. RODNEY. 65 
 
 was the ambition of the father that his son, for whom he had 
 secured a sound education, should become a member of the 
 civil service. It had become an apothegm in the Ferrars family 
 that something must be done for Rodney, and whenever the 
 apparent occasion failed, which was not unfrequent, old Mr. 
 .Ferrars used always to add, " I^ever mind ; so long as I live, 
 Rodney shall never want a home." The object of all this kind- 
 ness, however, was little distressed by their failures in his pre- 
 ferment. He had implicit faith in the career of his friend and 
 master, and looked forward to the time when it might not be 
 impossible that he himself might find a haven in a commission- 
 ership. Recently Mr. Ferrars had been able to confer on him 
 a small post with duties not too engrossing, and which did 
 not prevent his regular presence in Hill Street, where he made 
 himself generally/ useful. 
 
 If there were anything confidential to be accomplished in 
 their domestic life, everything might be trusted to his discre- 
 tion and entire devotion. He supervised the establishment 
 without injudiciously interfering with the house-steward, 
 copied secret papers for Mr. Ferrars, and when that gentleman 
 was out of office acted as his private secretary. Mr. Rodney 
 was the most official personage in the ministerial circle. He 
 considered human nature only with reference to office. No 
 one was so intimately acquainted with all the details of the 
 lesser patronage as himself, and his hours of study w^ere passed 
 in the pages of the " Peerage " and in penetrating the mys- 
 teries of the " Royal Calendar." 
 
 The events of 1832, therefore, to this gentleman were scarce- 
 ly a less severe blow than to the Ferrars family itself. Indeed, 
 like his chief, he looked upon himself as the victim of a revo- 
 lution. Mr. Rodney had always been an admirer of Sylvia, 
 but no more. He had accompanied her to the theatre, and 
 had attended her to the park, but this was quite under- 
 stood on both sides only to be gallantry ; both, perhaps, in 
 their prosperity, with respect to the serious step of life, had 
 indulged in higher dreams. But the sympathy of sorrow 
 is stronger than the sympathy of prosperity. In the dark- 
 ness of their lives, each required comfort : he mrrmured some 
 
66 ENDYMION. 
 
 accents of tender solace, and Sylvia agreed to become Mrs, 
 Rodney. 
 
 When they considered their position the prospect was not 
 free from anxiety. To marry and then separate is, where there 
 is affection, trying. His income would secure them little more 
 than a roof, but how to live under that roof was a mystery. 
 For her to become a governess, and for him to become a secre- 
 tary, and to meet only on an occasional Sunday, was a sorry 
 lot. And yet both possessed accomplishments or acquirements 
 which ought in some degree to be productive. Rodney had a 
 friend, and he determined to consult him. 
 
 That friend was no common person ; he was Mr. Vigo, by 
 birth a Yorkshireman, and gifted with all the attributes, phys- 
 ical and intellectual, of that celebrated race. At present he 
 was the most fashionable tailor in London, and one whom 
 many persons consulted. Besides being consummate in his art, 
 Mr. Vigo had the reputation of being a man of singularly good 
 judgment. He was one who obtained influence over all with 
 whom he came in contact, and as his business placed him in 
 contact with various classes, but especially with the class so- 
 cially most distinguished, his influence was great. The golden 
 youth who repaired to his counters came there not merely to 
 obtain raiment of the best material and the most perfect cut, 
 but to see and talk with Mr. Vigo, and to ask his opinion on 
 various points. There was a spacious room where, if they 
 liked, they might smoke a cigar, and "Vigo's cigars" were 
 something which no one could rival. * If they liked to take a 
 glass of hock with their tobacco, there was a bottle ready from 
 the cellars of Johannisberg. Mr. Vigo's stable was almost as 
 famous as its master ; he drove the finest horses in London, 
 and rode the best hunters in the Vale of Aylesbury. With all 
 this, his manners were exactly what they should be. He was 
 neither pretentious nor servile, but simple, and with becoming 
 respect for others and for himself. He never took a liberty 
 with any one, and such treatment, as is generally thoKjase, was 
 reciprocal. 
 
 Mr. Vigo was much attached to Mr. Rodney, and was proud 
 of his intimate acquaintance with him. He wanted a friend 
 
MR. VIGO. (57 
 
 not of liis own order, for that would not increase or improve 
 his ideas, but one conversant with the habits and feelings of a 
 superior class, and yet he did no't want a fine gentleman for an 
 intimate, who would have been either an insolent patron or a 
 designing parasite. Eodney had relations with the aristocracy, 
 with the political world, and could feel the pulse of public life. 
 His appearance was engaging, his manners gentle if not gentle- 
 manlike, and he had a temper never disturbed. This is a 
 quality highly appreciated by men of energy and fire, who may 
 happen not to have a complete self-control. 
 
 When Eodney detailed to his friend the catastrophe that 
 had occurred and all its sad consequences, Mr. Vigo heard him 
 in silence, occasionally nodding his head in sympathy or appro- 
 bation, or scrutinizing a statement with his keen hazel eye. 
 When his visitor had finished, he said — 
 
 "When there has been a crash, there is nothing like a 
 change of scene. I propose that you and Mrs. Rodney should 
 come and stay with me a week at my house at Barnes, and 
 there a good many things may occur to us." 
 
 And so, toward the end of the week, when the Rodneys had 
 exhausted their whole programme of projects, against every one 
 of which there seemed some invincible objection, their host 
 said, " You know I rather speculate in houses. I bought one 
 last year in Warwick Street. It is a large roomy house in a 
 quiet situation, though in a bustling quarter, just where mem- 
 bers of Parliament would like to lodge. I have put it in 
 thorough repair. What I propose is that you should live there, 
 let the first and second floors — they are equally good — and live 
 on the ground floor yourselves, which is amply convenient. 
 We will not talk about rent till the year is over and we see how 
 it answers. The house is unfurnished, but that is nothing. I 
 will introduce you to a friend of mine who will furnish it for 
 you solidly and handsomely, you paying a percentage on the 
 amount expended. He will want a guarantee, but of course I 
 will be that. It is an experiment, but try it. Try it for a 
 year ; at any rate you will be a householder, and you will have 
 the opportunity of thinking of something else." 
 
 Hitherto the Rodneys had been successful in their enter- 
 
68 ENDYMIOK 
 
 prise, and the soundness of Mr. Vigo's advice had been proved. 
 Their house was full, and of the best tenants. Their first floor 
 ■was taken by a distinguished M. P., a county member of repute 
 whom Mr. Eodney had known before the *' revolution," and who 
 was so pleased with his quarters, and the comfort and refine- 
 ment of all about him, that to insure their constant enjoyment 
 he became a yearly tenant. Their second floor, which was 
 nearly as good as their first, was inhabited by a young gentleman 
 of fashion, who took them originally only by the week, and 
 who was always going to give them up, but never did. The 
 weekly lodger went to Paris, and he went to German baths, 
 and he went to country houses, and he was frequently a long 
 time away, but he never gave up his lodgings. "When there- 
 fore Mr. Ferrars called in Warwick Street, the truth is the 
 house was full and there was no vacant room for him. But 
 this the Eodneys would not admit. Though they were worldly 
 people, and it seemed impossible that anything more could be 
 gained from the ruined house at Hurstley, they had, like many 
 other people, a superstition, and their superstition was an ado- 
 ration of the family of Ferrars. The sight of their former 
 master, who, had it not been for the revolution, might have 
 been Prime Minister of England, and the recollection of their 
 former mistress and all her splendor, and all the rich dresses 
 which she used to give so profusely to her dependent, quite 
 overwhelmed them. Without consultation this sympathizing 
 couple leaped to the same conclusion. They assured Mr. Fer- 
 rars they could accommodate him, and that he should find 
 everything prepared for him when he called again, and they 
 resigned to him, without acknowledging it, their own commo- 
 dious and well-furnished chamber, which Mrs. Rodney prepared 
 for him with the utmost solicitude, arranging his writing-table 
 and materials as he used to have them in Hill Street, and show- 
 ing by a variety of modes she remembered all his ways. 
 
THE CARLTON CLUB. 69 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 After securing liis room in Warwick Street, Mr. Ferrars 
 called on liis political 'chiefs. Though engrossed with affairs, 
 the moment his card was exhibited he was seen, cordially wel- 
 comed, and addressed in confidence. Not only were his claims 
 acknowledged without being preferred, but an evidently ear- 
 nest hope was expressed that they might be fully satisfied. 
 No one had sujffered more for the party and no one had worked 
 harder or more effectively for it. But at present nothing could 
 be done and nothing more could be said. All depended on 
 Peel. Until he arrived nothing could be arranged. Their 
 duties were limited to provisionally administering the affairs 
 of the country until his appearance. 
 
 It was many days, even weeks, before that event could 
 happen. The messenger would travel to Rome night and day, 
 but it was calculated that nearly three weeks must elapse be- 
 fore his return. Mr. Ferrars then went to the Carlton Club, 
 which he had assisted in forming three or four years before, 
 and had established in a house of moderate dimensions in 
 Charles Street, St. James. It was called then the Charles 
 Street gang, and none but the thorough-going cared to belong 
 to it. Now he found it flourishing in a magnificent mansion 
 on Carlton Terrace, while in very sight of its windows, on a 
 plot of ground in Pall Mall, a palace was rising to receive it. 
 It counted already fifteen hundred members, who had been 
 selected by an omniscient and scrutinizing committee, solely 
 with reference to their local influence throughout the country, 
 and the books were overflowing with impatient candidates of 
 rank, and wealth, and power. 
 
 Three years ago Ferrars had been one of the leading spirits 
 of this great confederacy, and now he entered the superb cham- 
 ber, and it seemed to him that he did not recognize a human 
 being. Yet it was full to overflowing, and excitement, and 
 anxiety, and bustle were impressed on every countenance. If 
 he had heard some of the whispers and remarks, as he entered 
 and moved about, his self-complacency would scarcely have 
 been gratified. 
 
70 ENDYMIOK 
 
 " Who is that ? " inquired a young M. P. of a brother sena- 
 tor not much more experienced. 
 
 "Have not the remotest idea ; never saw him before. Bar- 
 ron is speaking to him ; he will tell us. I say, Barron, who is 
 your friend ? " 
 
 " That is Ferrars ! " 
 
 *' Ferrars ! who is he ? " 
 
 '* One of our best men. If all our fellows had fought like 
 him against the Eeform Bill, that infernal measure would 
 never have been carried.^' 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! I remember something now," said the young 
 M. P., " but anything that happened before the election of '32 
 I look upon as an old almanac." 
 
 However, notwithstanding the first and painful impression 
 of strangers and strangeness, when a little time had elapsed, 
 Ferrars found many friends, and among the most distinguished 
 present. Nothing could be more hearty than their greeting, 
 and he had not been in the room half an hour before he 
 had accepted an invitation to dine that very day with Lord 
 Pomeroy. 
 
 It was a large and rather miscellaneous party, but all of the 
 right kidney. Some men who had been cabinet ministers, and 
 some who expected to be ; several occupiers in old days of the 
 secondary offices ; both the whips, one noisy and the other 
 mysterious ; several lawyers of repute who must be brought 
 into Parliament, and some young men who had distinguished 
 themselves in the reformed house and whom Ferrars had never 
 seen before. **It is like old days^" said the husband of Zeno- 
 bia to Ferrars, who sat next to him ; " I hope it will float, but 
 we shall know nothing till Peel comes." 
 
 *'He will have difficulty with his cabinet, so far as the 
 House of Commons is concerned," said an old privy councilor. 
 ''They must have seats, and his choice is very limited." 
 
 "He will dissolve," said the husband of Zenobia. "He 
 must." 
 
 " Wheugh ! " said the privy councilor, and he shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " The old story will not do," said the husband of Zenobia. 
 
GLOOMY PROSPECTS. 71 
 
 " We must have new blood. Peel must reconstruct on a broad 
 basis." 
 
 "Well, they say there is no lack of conyerts," said the old 
 privy councilor. 
 
 All this, and much more that he heard, made Ferrars pon- 
 der, and anxiously. No cabinet without Parliament. It was 
 but reasonable. A dissolution was therefore in his interest. 
 And yet, what a prospect ! A considerable expenditure, and 
 yet with a considerable expenditure a doubtful result. Then 
 reconstruction on a broad basis — what did that mean ? Neither 
 more nor less than rival candidates for office. There was no 
 lack of converts. He dare say not. A great deal had developed 
 since his exile at Hurstley — things which are not learned by 
 newspapers, or even private correspondence. He spoke to Bar- 
 ron after dinner. He had reason to believe Barron was his 
 friend. Barron could give no opinion about dissolution ; all 
 depended on Peel. But they were acting, and had been acting 
 for some time, as if a dissolution were on the cards. Ferrars 
 had better call upon him to-morrow, and go over the list, and 
 see what could be done for him. He had every claim. 
 
 The man with every claim called on Barron on the morrow, 
 and saw his secret list, and listened to all his secret prospects 
 and secret plans. There was more than one manufacturing 
 town where there was an opening ; decided reaction, and a 
 genuine Conservative feeling. Barron had no doubt, that al- 
 though a man might not get in the first time he stood, he 
 would ultimately. Ultimately was not a word which suited 
 Mr. Ferrars. There were several old boroughs where the free- 
 men still outnumbered the ten-pounders, and where the pros- 
 pects were more than encouraging ; but the expense was equal 
 to the goodness of the chance, and although Ferrars had every 
 claim, and would no doubt be assisted, still one could not shut 
 one's eyes to the fact that the personal expenditure must be 
 considerable. The agricultural boroughs must be fought, at 
 least this time, by local men. Something might be done with 
 an Irish borough ; expense, comparatively speaking, inconsider- 
 able, but the politics deeply Orange. 
 
 Gloom settled on the countenance of this spoiled child of 
 
72 ENDYMION. 
 
 politics, who had always sat for a close borough, and who re- 
 coiled from a contest like a woman, when he pictured to him- 
 self the struggle and exertion and personal suffering he would 
 have to encounter and endure, and then with no certainty of 
 success. The trained statesman, who had anticipated the mass 
 of his party on Catholic emancipation, to become an Orange 
 candidate ! It was worse than making speeches to ten-pound- 
 ers and canvassing freemen ! 
 
 *^I knew things were difficult," said Ferrars ; "but I was 
 in hopes that there were yet some seats that we might com- 
 mand." 
 
 "No doubt there are," said Mr. Barron; "but they are 
 few, and they are occupied — at least at present. But, after all, a 
 thousand things may turn up, and you may consider nothing 
 definitively arranged till Sir Robert arrives. The great thing 
 is to be on the spot." 
 
 Ferrars wrote to his wife daily, and kept her minutely ac- 
 quainted with the course of affairs. She agreed with Barron 
 that the great thing was to be on the spot. She felt sure that 
 something would turn up. She was convinced that Sir Robert 
 would send for him, offer him the Cabinet, and at the same time 
 provide him with a seat. Her own inclination was still in fa- 
 vor of a great colonial or foreign appointment. She still han- 
 kered after India ; but if the cabinet were offered, as was cer- 
 tain, she did not consider that William, as a man of honor, 
 could refuse to accept the trust and share the peril. 
 
 So Ferrars remained in London under the roof of the Rod- 
 neys. The feverish days passed in the excitement of political 
 life in all its manifold forms, grave council and light gossip, 
 dinners with only one subject of conversation, and that never 
 palling, and at last, even evenings spent again under the roof 
 of Zenobia, who, the instant her winter apartments were ready 
 to receive the world, had hurried up to London and raised her 
 standard in St. James' Square. " It was like old days," as her 
 husband had said to Ferrars when they met after a long separa- 
 tion. 
 
 Was it like old days ? he thought to himself when he was 
 alone. Old days, when the present had no care, and the future 
 
FERRAE8 RETURNS HOME, 73 
 
 was all hoi^e ; when he was proud, and justly proud, of the 
 public position he had achieyed, and of all the splendid and 
 felicitous circumstances of life that had clustered round him. 
 He thought of those away, and with whom during the last 
 three years he had so continuously and intimately lived. And 
 his hired home that once had been associated only in his mind 
 with exile, imprisonment, misfortune, almost disgrace, became 
 hallowed by affections, and in the agony of the suspense, which 
 now involved him, and to encounter which he began to think 
 his diminished nerve unequal, he would have bargained for the 
 rest of his life to pass undisturbed in that sweet solitude, in the 
 delights of study and the tranquillity of domestic love. 
 
 A little not unamiable weakness this, but it passed off in 
 the morning like a dream, when Mr. Ferrars heard that Sir 
 Robert had arrived. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 It was a dark December night when Mr. Ferrars returned 
 to Hurstley. His wife, accompanied by the gardener with a 
 lantern, met him on the green. She embraced him, and whis- 
 pered, "Is it very bad, love ? I fear you have softened it to 
 me?" 
 
 " By no means bad, and I told you the truth ; not all, for 
 had I, my letter would have been too late. He said nothing 
 about the cabinet, but offered me a high post in his govern- 
 ment, provided I could secure my seat. That was impossible. 
 During the month I was in town I had realized that. I thought 
 it best, therefore, at once to try the other tack, and nothing 
 could be more satisfactory." 
 
 " Did you say anything about India ? " she said in a very 
 low voice. 
 
 " I did not. He is an honorable man, but he is cold, and 
 my manner is not distinguished for abandon, I thought it 
 best to speak generally, and leave it to him. He acknowledged 
 my claim, and my fitness for such posts, and said if his govern- 
 
74 ENDYMION, 
 
 ment lasted it would gratify him to meet my wishes. Barron 
 says the government will last. They will have a majority, and 
 if Stanley and Graham had joined them, they would have had 
 not an inconsiderable one. But in that case I should probably 
 not have had the cabinet, if indeed he meant to offer it to me 
 now." • 
 
 " Of course he did," said his wife. " Who has such claims 
 as you have ? Well, now we must hope, and watch. Look 
 cheerful to the children, for they have been very anxious." 
 
 With this hint the meeting was not unhappy, and the 
 evening passed with amusement and interest. Endymion em- 
 braced his father with warmth, and Myra kissed him on both 
 cheeks. Mr. Ferrars had a great deal of gossip which interest- 
 ed his wife, and to a certain degree his children. The latter 
 of course remembered Zenobia, and her sayings and doings 
 were always amusing. There were anecdotes too of illustrious 
 persons which always interest, especially when in the personal 
 experience of those with whom we are intimately connected. 
 What the Duke, or Sir Eobert, or Lord Lyndhurst, said to 
 papa seemed doubly wiser or brighter than if it had been said 
 to a .third person. Their relations with the world of power, 
 and fashion, and fame, seemed not to be extinct, at least re- 
 viving from their torpid condition. Mr. Ferrars had also 
 brought a German book for Myra ; and '' as for you, Endym- 
 ion," he said, " I have been much more successful for you than 
 for your father, though I hope I shall not have myself in the 
 long run to complain. Our friends are faithful to us, and I 
 have got you put down on the private list for a clerkship both 
 in the Foreign Office and the Treasury. They are the two best 
 things, and you will have one of the first vacancies that will 
 occur in either department. I know your mother wishes you 
 to be in the Foreign Office. Let it be so if it come. I confess, 
 myself, remembering your grandfather's career, I have always 
 a weakness for the Treasury, but so long as I see you well 
 planted in Whitehall, I shall be content. Let me see, you will 
 be sixteen in March. I could have wished you to wait another 
 year, but we must be ready when the opening occurs." 
 
 The general election in 1834-'35, though it restored the bal- 
 
THE MINISTRY SANGUINE. 75 
 
 ance of parties, did not secure Sir Eobert Peel a majority, and 
 the anxiety of the family at Hursfcley was proportionate to the 
 occasion. Barron was always sanguine, but the vote on the 
 speakership could not but alarm them. Barron said it did not 
 signify, and that Sir Robert had resolved to go on, and had 
 confidence in his measures. His measures were excellent, and 
 Sir Robert never displayed more resource, more energy, and 
 more skill, than he did in the spring of 1835. But knowledge 
 of human nature was not Sir Robert Peel's strong point, and it 
 argued some deficiency in that respect, to suppose that the fit- 
 ness of his measures could disarm a vindictive opposition. On 
 the contrary they rather whetted their desire of revenge, and 
 they were doubly loath that he should increase his reputation by 
 availing himself of an opportunity which they deemed the Tory 
 party had unfairly acquired. 
 
 After the vote -on the speakership, Mr. Ferrars was offered 
 a second-class West Indian government. His wife would not 
 listen to it. If it were Jamaica, the offer might be considered, 
 though it could scarcely be accepted without great sacrifice. 
 The children, for instance, must be left at home. Strange to 
 say, Mr. Ferrars was not disinclined to accept the inferior post. 
 Endymion he looked upon as virtually provided for, and Myra, 
 he thought, might accompany them ; if only for a year. But 
 he ultimately yielded, though not without a struggle, to the 
 strong feeling of his wife. 
 
 " I do not see why I also should not be left behind," said 
 Myra to her brother in one of their confidential walks. " I 
 should like to live in London lodgings with you." 
 
 The approaching appointment of her brother filled her from 
 the first with the greatest interest. She was always talking of 
 it when they were alone — fancying his future life, and planning 
 how it might be happier and more easy. "My only joy in life 
 is seeing you," she sometimes said, "and yet this separation 
 does not make me unhappy. It seems a chance from heaven 
 for you. I pray every night it may be the Foreign Office." 
 
 The ministry were still sanguine as to their prospects in the 
 month of March, and they deemed that public opinion was 
 rallying round Sir Robert. Perhaps Lord John Russell, who 
 
76 ENDYMION. 
 
 was the leader of the opposition, felt this, in some degree, him- 
 self, and he determined to bring affairs to a crisis by notice of 
 a motion respecting the appropriation of the revenues of the 
 Irish Church. Then Barron wrote to Mr. Ferrars that affairs 
 did not look so well, and advised him to come up to town, and 
 take anything that offered. " It is something," he remarked,* 
 '^to have something to give up. "We shall not, I suppose, 
 always be out of office, and they get preferred more easily 
 whose promotion contributes to patronage, even while they 
 claim its exercise." 
 
 The ministry were in a minority on the Irish Chui'ch on 
 April 2d, the day on which Mr. Ferrars arrived in town. They 
 did not resign, but the attack was to be repeated in another 
 form on the 6th. During the terrible interval Mr. Ferrars 
 made distracted visits to Downing Street, saw secretaries of 
 state, who sympathized with him notwithstanding their own 
 chagrin, and was closeted daily and hourly with under-secreta- 
 ries, parliamentary and permanent, who really «-like wished to 
 serve him. But there was nothing to be had. He was almost 
 meditating taking Sierra Leone, or the Gold Coast, when the 
 resignation of Sir Robeii; Peel was announced. At the last 
 moment, there being, of course, no vacancy in the Foreign 
 Office or the Treasury, he obtained from Barron an appoint- 
 ment for Endymion ; and so, after having left Hurstley five 
 months before to become Governor-General of India, this man, 
 "who had claims," returned to his mortified home with a 
 clerkship for his son in a second-rate government office. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Disappointment and distress, it might be said despair, 
 seemed fast settling again over the devoted roof of Hurstley af- 
 ter three years' truce of tranquillity. Even the crushing termi- 
 nation of her worldly hopes was forgotten for the moment by 
 Mrs. Ferrars in her anguish at the prospect of separation from 
 Endymion. Such a catastrophe she had never for a moment 
 
ENDYMION'S APPOINTMENT. 77 
 
 contemplated. True it was she had been delighted with the 
 scheme of his entering the Foreign Office, but that was on the 
 assumption that she was to enter office herself, and that, what- 
 ever might be the scene of the daily labors of her darling child, 
 her roof should be his home, and her indulgent care always at 
 his command. But that she was absolutely to part with En- 
 dymion, and that, at his tender age, he was to be launched 
 alone into the wide world, was an idea that she could not en- 
 tertain or even comprehend. Who was to clothe him, and 
 feed him, and tend him, and save him from being run over, 
 and guide and guard him in all the difficulties and dangers of 
 this mundane existence ? It was madness, it was impossible. 
 But Me. Ferrars, though gentle, was firm. No doubt it was to 
 be wished that the event could have been postponed for a year ; 
 but its occurrence, unless all prospect of establishment in life 
 were surrendered, was inevitable, and a slight delay would 
 hardly render the conditions under which it happened less try- 
 ing. Though -Endymion was only sixteen, he was tall and 
 manly beyond his age, and during the latter years of his life 
 his naturally sweet temper and genial disposition had been 
 schooled in self-discipline and self-sacrifice. He was not to be 
 wholly left to strangers ; Mr. Ferrars had spoken to Rodney 
 about receiving him, at least for the present, and steps would 
 be taken that those who presided over his office would be influ- 
 enced in his favor. The appointment was certainly not equal 
 to what had been originally anticipated ; but still the depart- 
 ment, though not distinguished, was highly respectable, and 
 there was no reason on earth, if the opportunity offered, that 
 Endymion should not be removed from his present post to one 
 in the higher departments of the state. But if this opening 
 were rejected, what was to be the future of their son ? They 
 could not afford to send him to the University, nor did Mr. 
 Ferrars wish him to take refuge in the bosom of the Church. 
 As for the army, they had now no interest to acquire commis- 
 sions, and if they coald succeed so far, they could not make 
 him an allowance which would permit him to maintain him- 
 self as became his rank. The civil service remained, in which 
 his grandfather had been eminent, and in which his own par- 
 
Y8 ENDTMION. 
 
 ent, at any rate, though the victim of a revolution, had not 
 disgraced himself. It seemed, under the circumstances, the 
 natural avenue for their child. At least, he thought it ought 
 to he tried. He wished nothing to he settled without the full 
 concurrence of Endymion himself. The matter should he put 
 fairly and clearly before him, **and for this purpose," con- 
 cluded Mr. Ferrars, " I have just sent for him to my room ; " 
 and he retired. 
 
 The interview between the father and son was long. When 
 Endymion left the room his countenance was pale, but its ex- 
 pression was firm and determined. He went forth into the 
 garden and there he saw Myra. " How long you have been ! *' 
 she said ; " I have been watching for you. What is settled ?" 
 
 He took her arm, and in silence led her away into one of 
 the glades. Then he said : ^* I have settled to go, and I am 
 resolved, so long as I live, that I will never cost dear papa an- 
 other shilling. Things here are very bad, quite as bad as you 
 have sometimes fancied. But do not say anything to poor 
 mamma about them." 
 
 Mr. Ferrars resolved that Endymion should go to London 
 immediately, and the preparations for his departure were ur- 
 gent. Myra did everything. If she had been the head of a 
 family she could not have been more thoughtful or apparently 
 more experienced. If she had a doubt, she stepped over to 
 Mrs. Penruddock and consulted her. As for Mrs. Ferrars, 
 she had become very unwell and unable to attend to anything. 
 Her occasional interference, fitful and feverish, and without 
 adequate regard to circumstances, only embarrassed them. 
 But, generally speaking, she kept to her own room, and was 
 always weeping. 
 
 The last day came. No one pretended not to be serious and 
 grave. Mrs. Ferrars did not appear, but saw Endymion alone. 
 
 She did not speak, but locked him in her arms for many 
 minutes, and then kissing him on the forehead, and, by a gen- 
 tle motion, intimating that he should retire, she fell back on 
 her sofa with closed eyes. He was alone for a short time with 
 his father after dinner. Mr. Ferrars said to him: "I have 
 treated you in this matter as a man, and I have entire confi- 
 
or 
 
 '" -^'''ii£2Sl^'' IMOGENE. 79 
 
 dence in you. Your business in life is to build up again a fam- 
 ily which was once honored." 
 
 Myra was still copying inyentories when he returned to the 
 drawing-rooDi. '^ These are for myself," she said, "so I shall 
 always know what you ought to have. Though you go so ear- 
 ly, I shall make your breakfast to-morrow," and, leaning back 
 on the sofa, she took his hand. " Things are dark, and I fancy 
 they will be darker; but brightness will come, somehow or 
 other, to you, darling, for you are born for brightness. You 
 will find friends in life, and they will be women." 
 
 It was nearly three years since Endymion had trayeled down 
 to Hurstley by the same coach that was now carrying him to 
 London. Though apparently so uneventful, the period had 
 not been unimportant in the formation, doubtless yet partial, 
 of his character. And all its influences had been beneficial to 
 him. The crust of pride and selfishness with which large pros- 
 perity and illimitable indulgence had incased a kind, and far 
 from presumptuous, disposition had been removed ; the domes- 
 tic sentiments in their sweetness and purity had been devel- 
 oped ; he had acquired some skill in scholarship and no incon- 
 siderable fund of sound information ; and the routine of reli- 
 gious thought had been superseded in his instance by an amount 
 of knowledge and feeling on matters theological, unusual at 
 his time of life. Though apparently not gifted with any dan- 
 gerous vivacity, or fatal facility of acquisition, his mind seemed 
 clear and painstaking, and distinguished by common sense. 
 He was brave and accurate. 
 
 Mr. Eodney was in waiting for him at the inn. He seemed 
 a most distinguished gentleman. A hackney-coach carried 
 them to Warwick Street, where he was welcomed by Mrs. Eod- 
 ney, who was exquisitely dressed. There was also her sister, 
 a girl not older than Eudymion, the very image of Mrs. Eod- 
 ney, except she was a brunette — a brilliant brunette. This 
 sister bore the romantic name of Imogene, for which she was 
 indebted to her father performing the part of the husband 
 of the heroine in Maturin's tragedy of the " Castle of St. Al- 
 dobrand," and which, under the inspiration of Kean, had set 
 the town in a blaze about the time of her birth. Tea was 
 
80 ENDYMION. 
 
 awaiting him, and there was a mixture in their several manners 
 of not ungraceful hospitality and the remembrance of past de- 
 pendence, which was genuine and not uninteresting, though 
 Endymion was yet too inexperienced to observe all this. 
 
 Mrs. Kodney talked very much of Endymion*s mother ; her 
 wondrous beauty, her more wondrous dresses ; the splendor of 
 her fetes and equipages. As she dilated on the past, she 
 seemed to share its luster and its triumphs. ** The first of the 
 land were always in attendance on her," and for Mrs. Kodney's 
 part, she never saw a real horsewoman since her dear lady. 
 Her sister did not speak, but listened with rapt attention to 
 the gorgeous details, occasionally stealing a glance at Endym- 
 ion — a glance of deep interest, of admiration mingled as it 
 were both with reverence and pity. 
 
 Mr. Rodney took up the conversation if his wife paused. 
 He spoke of all the leading statesmen who had been the habit- 
 ual companions of Mr. Ferrars, and threw out several anecdotes 
 respecting them from personal experience. "I knew them 
 all," continued Mr. Eodney, " I might say intimately ; " and 
 then he told his great anecdote, how he had been so fortunate 
 as perhaps even to save the Duke's life during the Eeform Bill 
 riots. " His Grace had never forgotten it, and only the day 
 before yesterday I met him in St. James' Street walking with 
 Mr. Arbuthnot, and he touched his hat to me." 
 
 All this gossip and good nature, and the kind and lively 
 scene, saved Endymion from the inevitable pang, or at least 
 gi'eatly softened it, which accompanies our first separation from 
 home. In due season, Mrs. Kodney observed that she doubted 
 not Mr. Endymion, for so they ever called him, must be 
 wearied with his journey, and would like to retire to his room ; 
 and her husband, immediately lighting a candle, prepared to 
 introduce their new lodger to his quarters. 
 
 It was a tall house, which had recently been renovated, 
 with a story added to it, and on this story was Endymion's 
 chamber ; not absolutely a garret, but a modern substitute for 
 that sort of apartment. *^It is rather high," said Mr. Rodney, 
 half apologizing for the ascent, "but Mr. Ferrars himself chose 
 the room. We took the liberty of lighting a fire to-night." 
 
AT SOMERSET HOUSE. 81 
 
 And the cheerful blaze was welcome. It lit up a room clean 
 and not uncomfortable. Feminine solicitude had fashioned a 
 toilet-table for him, and there was a bunch of geraniums in a 
 blue vase on its sparkling dimity garniture. ^' I suppose you 
 have in your bag all that you want at present ? " said Mr. Eod- 
 ney. *' To-morrow we will unpack your trunks and arrange 
 your things in their drawers ; and after breakfast, if you 
 please, I will show you your way to Somerset House ." 
 
 Somerset House ! thought Endymion, as he stood before 
 the fire alone. Is it so near as that ? To-morrow, and I am 
 to be at Somerset House ! And then he thought of what they 
 were doing at Hurstley — of that terrible parting with his 
 mother, which made him choke — and of his father's last words. 
 And then he thought of Myra, and the tears stole down his 
 cheek. And then he knelt down by his bedside and prayed. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Me. Rodkey would have accompanied Endymion to Som- 
 erset House under any circumstances, but it so happened that 
 he had reasons of his own for a visit to that celebrated build- 
 ing. He had occasion to see a gentleman who was stationed 
 there. *^Not," as he added to Endymion, " that I know many 
 here, but at the Treasury and in Downing Street I have several 
 acquaintances." 
 
 They separated at the door in the great quadrangle which 
 led to the department to which Endymion was attached, and 
 he contrived in due time to deliver to a messenger a letter 
 addressed to his future chief. He was kept some time in a 
 gloomy and almost unfurnished waiting-room, and his thoughts 
 in a desponding mood were gathering round the dear ones who 
 were distant, when he was summoned, and, following the mes- 
 senger down a passage, was ushered into a lively apartment on 
 which the sun was shining, and which, with its well-lined book- 
 shelves, and tables covered with papers, and bright noisy clock, 
 and general air of habitation and business, contrasted favorably 
 
82 ENDTMIOK 
 
 with the room he had just quitted. A good-natured-looking 
 man held out his hand and welcomed him cordially, and said 
 at once, " I served, Mr. Ferrars, under your grandfather at the 
 Treasury, and I am glad to see you here." Then he spoke of 
 the duties which Endymion would have at present to discharge. 
 His lahors at first would be somewhat mechanical ; they would 
 require only correctness and diligence ; but the office was a 
 large one, and promotion not only sure, but sometimes rapid, 
 and as he was so young, he might with attention count on at- 
 taining, while yet in the prime of life, a future of very respon- 
 sible duties and of no inconsiderable emolument. And while 
 he was speaking he rang the bell and commanded the attend- 
 ance of a clerk, under whose care Endymion was specially 
 placed. This was a young man of pleasant address, who in- 
 vited Endymion with kindness to accompany him, and leading 
 him through several chambers, some capacious, and all full of 
 clerks seated on high stools and writing at desks, finally ush- 
 ered him into a smaller chamber where there were not above 
 six or eight at work, and where there was a vacant seat. '* This 
 is your place," he said, "and now I will introduce you to your 
 future comrades. This is Mr. Jawett, the greatest Radical of 
 the age, and who, when he is President of the Eepublic, will 1 
 hope do a Job for his friends here. This is Mr. St. Barbe, who, 
 when the public taste has improved, will be the most popular 
 author of the day. In the mean time he will give you a copy 
 of his novel, which has not sold as it ought to have done, and 
 in which we say he has quizzed all his friends. This is Mr. 
 Seymour Hicks, who, as you must perceive, is a man of fash- 
 ion." And so he went on, with what was evidently accustomed 
 raillery. All laughed, and all said something courteous to 
 Endymion, and then after a few minutes they resumed their 
 tasks, Endymion's work being to copy long lists of figures, and 
 routine documents of public accounts. 
 
 In the mean time Mr. St. Barbe was busy in drawing up a 
 public document of a different but important character, and 
 which was conceived something in this fashion : 
 
 ''We, the undersigned, highly approving of the personal 
 appearance and manners of our new colleague, are unanimously 
 
JOE'S. 83 
 
 of opinion that lie should be invited to join our symposium to- 
 day at the immortal Joe's." 
 
 This was quietly passed round and signed by all present, 
 and then given to Mr. Trenchard, who, all unconsciously to 
 the copying Endymion, wrote upon it, like a minister of state, 
 " Approved," with his initial. 
 
 Joe's, more technically known as "The Blue Posts," was a 
 celebrated chop-house in Naseby Street, a large, low-ceilinged, 
 wainscoted room, with the floor strewn with sawdust, and a 
 hissing kitchen in the center, and fitted up with what were 
 called boxes, these being of various sizes, and suitable to the 
 number of the guests requiring them. About this time the 
 fashionable coffee-houses, George's and the Piazza, and even 
 the coffee-rooms of Stevens' or Long's, had begun to feel the 
 injurious competitions of the new clubs that of late years had 
 been established ; but these, after all, were limited, and, com- 
 paratively speaking, exclusive societies. Their influence had 
 not touched the chop-houses, and it required another quarter 
 of a century before their cheerful and hospitable roofs and the 
 old taverns of London, so full, it ever seemed, of merriment 
 and wisdom, yielded to the gradually increasing but irresistible 
 influence of those innumerable associations, which, under clas- 
 sic names, or affecting to be the junior branches of celebrated 
 confederacies, have since secured to the million, at cost price, 
 all the delicacies of the season, and substituted for the zealous 
 energy of immortal Joes the inexorable but frigid discipline of 
 managing committees. 
 
 ** You are our guest to-day," said Mr. Trenchard to Endym- 
 ion. ''Do not be embarrassed. It is a custom with us, but 
 not a ruinous one. We dine off the joint, but the meat is first- 
 rate, and you may have as much as you like, and our tipple is 
 half-and-half. Perhaps you do not know it. Let me drink to 
 your health." 
 
 They ate most heartily ; but when their well-earned meal was 
 dispatched, their conversation, assisted by a moderate portion of 
 some celebrated toddy, became animated, various, and interest- 
 ing. Endymion was highly amused ; but being a stranger, and 
 the youngest present, his silence was not unbecoming, and his 
 
84 ENDYMION. 
 
 manner indicated that it was not occasioned by want of sym- 
 pathy. The talk was yery political. They were all what are 
 called Liberals, having all of them received their appointments 
 since the catastrophe of 1830 ; but the shades in the color of 
 their opinions were various and strong. Jawett was uncom- 
 promising ; ruthlessly logical, his principles being clear, he 
 was for what he called "carrying them out" to their just 
 conclusions. Trenchard, on the contrary, thought everything 
 ought to be compromise, and that a public man ceased to be 
 practical the moment he was logical. St. Barbe believed that 
 literature and the arts, and intellect generally, had as little 
 to hope for from one party as from the other ; while Seymour 
 Hicks was of opinion that the Tories never would rally, owing 
 to their deficiency in social influences. Seymour Hicks some- 
 times got an invitation to a ministerial soiree. 
 
 The vote of the House of Commons in favor of an appro- 
 priation of the surplus revenues of the Irish Church to the 
 purposes of secular education — a vote which had just changed 
 the government and expelled the Tories — ^was much discussed. 
 Jawett denounced it as a miserable subterfuge, but with a mild- 
 ness of manner and a mincing expression, which amusingly con- 
 trasted with the violence of his principles and the strength of 
 his language. 
 
 ** The whole of the revenues of the Protestant Church should 
 be at once appropriated to secular education, or to some other 
 purpose of general utility," he said. "And it must come to 
 this." 
 
 Trenchard thought the ministry had gone as far in this mat- 
 ter as they well could, and Seymour Hicks remarked that any 
 Government which systematically attacked the Church would 
 have "society" against it. Endymion, who felt very nervous, 
 but who on Church questions had strong convictions, ventured 
 to ask why the Church should be deprived of its property. 
 
 "In the case of Ireland," replied Jawett, quite in a tone of 
 conciliatory condescension, "because it does not fulfill the pur- 
 pose for which it was endowed. It has got the property of the 
 nation, and it is not the Church of the people. But I go fur- 
 ther than that. I would disendow every Church. They are not 
 
AFTER-DINNER TALK. 85 
 
 productive institutions. There is no reason why they should 
 exist. There is no use in them." 
 
 ^^No use in the Church ! " said Endymion, reddening ; but 
 Mr. Trenchard, who had tact, here interfered, and said, "I 
 told you our friend Jawett was a great Eadical ; but he is in a 
 minority among us on these matters. Everybody, however, 
 says what they like at Joe's." 
 
 Then they talked of theatres, and critically discussed the 
 articles in the daily papers and the last new book, and there 
 was much discussion respecting a contemplated subscription 
 boat ; but still, in general, it was remarkable how they relapsed 
 into their favorite subject — speculation upon men in office, 
 both permanent and parliamentary, upon their characters and 
 capacity, their habits and tempers. One was a good adminis- 
 trator, another did nothing ; one had no detail, another too 
 much ; one was a screw, another a spendthrift ; this man could 
 make a set speech, but could not reply ; his rival, capital at a 
 reply, but clumsy in a formal oration. 
 
 At this time London was a very dull city, instead of being, 
 as it is now, a very amusing one. Probably there never was a 
 city in the world, with so vast a population, which was so mel- 
 ancholy. The aristocracy probably have always found amuse- 
 ments adapted to the manners of the time and the age in which 
 they lived. The middle classes, half a century ago, had little 
 distraction from their monotonous toil and melancholy anx- 
 ieties, except, perhaps, what they found in religious and philan- 
 thropic societies. Their general life must have been very dull. 
 Some traditionary merriment always lingered among the work- 
 ing classes of England. Both in town and country they had 
 always their games and fairs and junketing parties, which have 
 developed into excursion trains and colossal picnics. But of all 
 classes of the community, in the days of our fathers, there was 
 none so unfortunate in respect of public amusements as the bach- 
 elors about town. There were, one might almost say, only two 
 theatres, and they so huge, that is was difficult to see or hear 
 in either. Their monopolies, no longer redeemed by the stately 
 genius of the Kembles, the pathos of Miss O'Neill, or the fiery 
 passion of Kcan, were already menaced, and were soon about 
 
SQ EXDYMIOK 
 
 to fall ; but the crowd of diminutive but sparkling substitutes, 
 which haye since taken their place, had not yet appeared, and 
 half-price at Drury Lane or Covent Garden was a dreary dis- 
 traction after a morning of desk work. There were no Alham- 
 bras then, and no Cremornes, no palaces of crystal in terraced 
 gardens, no casinos, no music-halls, no aquaria, no promenade 
 concerts. Evans existed, but not in the fullness of its modem 
 development ; and the most popular place of resort was the 
 barbarous conviviality of the Cider Cellar. 
 
 Mr. Trenchard had paid the bill, collected his quotas and 
 rewarded the waiter, and then, as they all rose, said to Endym^ 
 ion, " We are going to the divan. Do you smoke ? " 
 
 Endymion shook his head ; but Trenchard added, " "Well, 
 you will some day ; but you had better come with us. You 
 need not smoke ; you can order a cup of coffee, and then you 
 may read all the newspapers and magazines. It is a nice 
 lounge." 
 
 So, emerging from Naseby Street into the Strand, they soon 
 entered a tobacconist's shop, and passing through it were ad- 
 mitted into a capacious saloon, well lit and fitted up with low, 
 broad sofas, fixed against the walls, and on which were seated, 
 or reclining, many persons, chiefly smoking cigars, but some 
 few practicing with the hookah and other oriental modes. In 
 the center of the room was a table covered with newspapers 
 and publications of that class. The companions from Joe's 
 became separated after their entrance, and St. Barbe, address- 
 ing Endymion said, *'I am not inclined to smoke to-day. We 
 will order some coffee, and you will find some amusement in 
 this"; and he placed in his hands a number of "Scara- 
 mouch." 
 
 " I hope you will like your new life," said St. Barbe, throw- 
 ing down a review on the divan, and leaning back sipping his 
 coffee. " One thing may be said in favor of it : you will work 
 with a body of as true-hearted comrades as ever existed. They 
 are always ready to assist one. Thorough good-natured fel- 
 lows, that I will say for them. I suppose it is adversity," he 
 continued, 'Hhat develops the kindly qualities of our nature. 
 I believe the sense of common degradation has a tendency to 
 
ST. BARBE'S GRIEVANCES. 87 
 
 make the degraded amiable — at least among themselves. I am 
 told it is found so in the plantations in slave-gangs." 
 
 '* But I hope we are not a slave-gang," said Endymion. 
 
 '^ It is horrible to think of gentlemen, and men of educa- 
 tion, and perhaps first-rate talents — who knows ? — reduced to 
 our straits," said St. Barbe. "I do not follow Jawett in all 
 his views, for I hate political economy and never could under- 
 stand it ; and he gives it you pure and simple, eh ? eh ? — ^but I 
 say it is something awful to think of the incomes that some 
 men are making, who could no more write an article in ^ Scara- 
 mouch ' than fly. " 
 
 *^ But our incomes may improve," said Endymion. ** I was 
 told to-day that promotion was even rapid in our office." 
 
 "Our incomes may improve when we are bent and gray," 
 said St. Barbe, "and we may even retire on a pension about as 
 good as a nobleman leaves to his valet. Oh, it is a horrid 
 world ! Your father is a privy councilor, is not he ? " 
 
 "Yes, and so was my grandfather, but I do not think I 
 shall ever be one." 
 
 "It is a great thing to have a father a privy councilor," 
 said St. Barbe, with a glance of envy. " If I were the son of 
 a privy councilor, those demons. Shuffle and Screw, would give 
 me £500 for my novel, which now they put in their beast- 
 ly magazine and print in small type, and do not pay me so 
 much as a powdered flunkey has in St. James's Square. I agree 
 with Jawett : the whole thing is rotten." 
 
 "Mr. Jawett seems to have very strange opinions," said 
 Endymion. " I did not like to hear what he said at dinner 
 about the Church, but Mr. Trenchard turned the conversation, 
 and I thought it best to let it pass." 
 
 "Trenchard is a sensible man, and a good fellow," said St. 
 Barbe; " you like him ? " 
 
 *^I find him kind." 
 
 "Do you know," said St. Barbe, in a whisper, and with a 
 distressed and almost vindictive expression of countenance, 
 "that man may come any day into four thousand a year. 
 There is only one life between him and the present owner. I 
 believe it is a good life," he added, in a more cheerful voice, 
 
88 ENDYMION. 
 
 "but still it miglit happen. Is it not horrible ? Four thou- 
 sand a year ! Trenchard with four thousand a year, and we 
 receiving little more than the pay of a butler ! " 
 
 " Well, I wish, for his sake, he might have it," said En- 
 dymion, ** though I might lose a* kind friend." 
 
 "Look at Seymour Hicks," said St. Barbe ; "he has 
 smoked his cigar, and he is going. He never remains. Ho is 
 going to a party, I'll be bound. That fellow gets about in a 
 most extraordinary manner. Is it not disgusting ? I doubt 
 whether he is asked much to dinner though, or I think we 
 should have heard of it. Nevertheless, Trenchard said the 
 other day, that Hicks had dined with Lord Cinque-Ports. I 
 can hardly believe it ; it would be too disgusting. No lord 
 ever asked me to dinner. But the aristocracy of this country 
 are doomed ! " 
 
 "Mr. Hicks," said Endymion, "probably lays himself out 
 for society." 
 
 "I suppose you will," said St. Barbe, with a scrutinizing 
 air. "I should if I were the son of a privy councilor. Hicks 
 is nothing ; his father kept a stable-yard and his mother was 
 an actress. We have had several dignitaries of the Church in 
 my family and one admiral. And yet Hicks dines with Lord 
 Cinque-Ports ! It is positively revolting ! But the things he 
 does to get asked ! — sings, rants, conjures, ventriloquizes, 
 mimics, stands on his head. His great performance is a par- 
 liamentary debate. We will make him do it for you. And yet 
 with all this a dull dog — a very dull dog, sir. He wrote for 
 * Scaramouch ' some little time, but they can stand it no more. 
 Between you and me, he has had notice to quit. That I know ; 
 and he wi^ll probably get the letter when he goes home from his 
 party to-night. So much for success in society I I shall now 
 say good-night to you." 
 
ENDYMION AT RODNEY'S. 89 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 It was only ten o'clock when Endymion returned to War- 
 wick Street, and for the first time in his life used a pass-key, 
 with which Mr. Rodney had furnished him in the morning, 
 and reentered his new home. He thought he had used it very 
 quietly, and was lighting his candle and about to steal up to 
 his lofty heights, when from the door of the parlor, which 
 opened into the passage, emerged Miss Imogene, who took the 
 candlestick from his hand and insisted on waiting upon him. 
 
 ** I thought I heard something," she said ; **you must let 
 me light you up, for you can hardly yet know your way. I 
 must see too if all is right ; you may want something." 
 
 So she trijoped up lightly before him, showing, doubtless 
 without premeditation, as well-turned an ankle and as pretty a 
 foot as could fall to a damsel's fortunate lot. *^My sister and 
 Mr. Rodney haye gone to the play," she said, "but they left 
 strict injunctions with me to see that you were comfortable, 
 and that you wanted for nothing that we could supply." 
 
 "You are too kind," said Endymion, as she lighted the 
 candles on his dressing-table, "and to tell you the truth these 
 are luxuries I am not accustomed to, and to which I am not 
 entitled." 
 
 "And yet," she said, with a glance of blended admiration 
 and pity, "they tell me time was when gold was not good 
 enough for you, and I do not think it could be." 
 
 "Such kindness as this," said Endymion, "is more pre- 
 cious than gold." 
 
 " I hope you will find your things well arranged. All your 
 clothes are in these two drawers ; the coats in the bottom one, 
 and your linen in those above. You will not perhaps be able 
 to find your pocket-handkerchiefs at first. They are in this 
 sachet ; my sister made it herself. Mr. Rodney says you are to 
 be called at eight o'clock and breakfast at nine. I think every- 
 thing is right. Good-night, Mr. Endymion. " 
 
 The Rodney household was rather a strange one. The first 
 two floors, as we have mentioned, were let, and at expensive 
 
90 ' ENDYMIOX. 
 
 rates, for the apartments were capacious and capitally furnished, 
 and the situation, if not distinguished, was extremely conyen- 
 ient — quiet from not being a thoroughfare, and in the heart of 
 civilization. They only kept a couple of servants, but their 
 principal lodgers had their personal attendants. And yet after 
 sunset the sisters appeared and presided at their tea-table, 
 always exquisitely dressed ; seldom alone, for Mr. Eodney had 
 many friends, and lived in a capacious apartment, rather finely 
 furnished with a round table covered with gaudy print-books, 
 a mantel-piece crowded with vases of mock Dresden, and a 
 cottage piano on which Imogene could accompany her more 
 than pleasing voice. 
 
 Somehow or other, the process is difficult to trace, Endymi- 
 on not unfrequently found himself at Mrs. Eodney's tea-table. 
 On the first occasion or so, he felt himself a little shy and em- 
 barrassed, but it soon became natural to him, and he would 
 often escape from the symposia at Joe's, and instead of the 
 Divan, find in Warwick Street a more congenial scene. There 
 were generally some young men there, who seemed delighted 
 with the ladies, listened with enthusiasm to Imogene's singing, 
 and were allowed to smoke. They were evidently gentlemen, 
 and indeed Mr. Eodney casually mentioned to Endymion that 
 one of the most frequent guests might some day even be a peer 
 of the realm. Sometimes there was a rubber of whist, and, 
 if wanted, Mrs. Eodney took a hand in it ; Endymion sitting 
 apart and conversing with her sister, who amused him by her 
 lively observations, indicating even flashes of culture ; but al- 
 ways addressed him without the slightest pretense and with the 
 utmost naturalness. This was not the case with Mr. Eodney ; 
 pretense with him was ingrained, and he was at first somewhat 
 embarrassed by the presence of Endymion, as he could hardly 
 maintain before his late patron's son his favorite character of 
 the aristocratic victim of revolution. And yet this drawback 
 was more than counterbalanced by the gTatification of his van- 
 ity in finding a Ferrars his habitual guest. Such a luxury 
 seemed a dangerous indulgence, but he could not resist it, and 
 ^he moth was always flying round the candle. There was no 
 danger, however, and that Mr. Eodney soon found out. En- 
 
WHIST AND SUPPER. 91 
 
 dymion was born with tact, and it came to liim as much from 
 goodness of heart as fineness of taste. Mr. Eodney, therefore, 
 soon resumed his anecdotes of great men and his personal 
 experience of their sayings, manners, and customs, with which 
 he was in the habit of enlivening or ornamenting the whist- 
 table ; occasionally introducing Endymion to the notice of the 
 table by mentioning in a low tone, "That is Mr. Ferrars, in a 
 certain sense under my care ; his father is a privy councilor, 
 and had it not been for the revolution — for I maintain, and 
 always will, the Reform Bill was neither more nor less than a 
 revolution — would probably have been Prime Minister. He 
 was my earliest and my best friend." 
 
 When there were cards, there was always a little supper : a 
 lobster and a roasted potato and that sort of easy thing, and 
 curious drinks, which the sisters mixed and made, and which 
 no one else, at least all said so, could mix and make. On fit- 
 ting occasions a bottle of champagne appeared, and then the 
 person for whom the wine wa| produced was sure with wonder- 
 ment to say, "Where did you get this champagne, Rodney ? 
 Could you get me some ? " Mr. Rodney shook his head and 
 scarcely gave a hope, but subsequently, when the praise in 
 consequence had continued and increased, would observe, " Do 
 you really want some ? I can not promise, but I will try. Of 
 course they will ask a high figure." 
 
 "Anything they like, my dear Rodney." 
 
 And in about a week's time the gentleman was so fortunate 
 as to get his champagne. 
 
 There was one subject on which Mr. Rodney appeared to be 
 particularly interested, and that was racing. The turf at that 
 time had not developed into that vast institution of national 
 demoralization which it now exhibits. That disastrous charac- 
 ter may be mainly attributed to the determination of our legis- 
 lators to put down gaming-houses, and which, practically 
 speaking, substituted for the pernicious folly of a comparative- 
 ly limited class the ruinous madness of the community. There 
 were many influences by which in the highest classes persons 
 might be discouraged or deterred from play under a roof ; and 
 in the great majority of cases such a habit was difficult, not to 
 
92 ENDTMION. 
 
 8Sij impossible, to indulge. But in shutting up gaming-liouses, 
 we brought the gaming-table into the street, and its practices 
 became the pursuit of those who would otherwise have never 
 witnessed or even thought of them. No doubt Crockford's 
 had its tragedies, but all its disasters and calamities together 
 would hardly equal a luster of the ruthless havoc which has 
 ensued from its suppression. 
 
 Nevertheless, in 1835 men made books, and Mr. Rodney 
 was not inexpert in a composition which requires no ordinary 
 qualities of character and intelligence ; method, judgment, 
 self-restraint, not too much imagination, perception of charac- 
 ter, and powers of calculation. All these qualities were now 
 in active demand and exercise ; for the Derby was at hand, and 
 the Rodney family, deeply interested in the result, were to 
 attend the celebrated festival. 
 
 One of the young gentlemen, who sometimes smoked a 
 cigar and sometimes tasted a lobster in their parlor, and who 
 seemed alike and equally devoted to Mrs. Rodney and her sis- 
 ter, insisted upon taking them to Epsom in his drag, and they 
 themselves were to select the party to accompany them. That 
 was not difficult, for they were naturally all friends of their 
 munificent host with one exception. Imogene stipulated that 
 Endymion should be asked, and Mr. Rodney supported the 
 suggestion. *^ He is the son of the privy councilor the Right 
 Hon. William Pitt Ferrars, my earliest and my best friend, and 
 in a certain sense is under my care." 
 
 The drive to the Derby was not then shorn of its humors 
 and glories. It was the Carnival of England, with equipages 
 as numerous and various, and with banter not less quick and 
 witty. It was a bright day — a day, no doubt, of wild hopes 
 and terrible fears, but yet, on the whole, of joy and exultation. 
 And no one was happier and prouder than pretty Mrs. Rodney, 
 exquisitely dressed and sitting on the box of a patrician drag, 
 beside its noble owner. On the seat behind them was Imogene, 
 with Endymion on one side, and on the other the individual 
 ''who might one day be a peer." Mr. Rodney and some 
 others, including Mr. Vigo, faced a couple of grooms, who sat 
 with folded arms and unmoved countenances, fastidiously stolid 
 
AFTER TEE DERBY. 93 
 
 amid all the fun, and grave even when they opened the cham- 
 pagne. 
 
 The right horse won. Mr. Rodney and his friends pocketed 
 a good stake, and they demolished their luncheon of luxuries 
 with frantic gayety. 
 
 "It is almost as happy as our little suppers in Warwick 
 Street," whispered their noble driver to his companion. 
 
 " Oh ! much more than anything you can find there," sim- 
 pered Mrs. Rodney. 
 
 " I declare to you, some of the happiest hours of my life 
 have been passed in Warwick Street," gravely murmured her 
 friend. 
 
 " I wish I could believe that," said Mrs. Rodney. 
 
 As for Endymion, he enjoyed himself amazingly. The 
 whole scene was new to him — ^he had never been at a race be- 
 fore, and this was the most famous of races. He did not know 
 he had betted, but he found he too had won a little money, 
 Mr. Rodney having put him on something, though what that 
 meant he had not the remotest idea. Imogene, however, as- 
 sured him it was all right, Mr. Rodney constantly put her on 
 something. He enjoyed the luncheon too ; the cold chicken, 
 and the French pies, the wondrous salads, and the iced cham- 
 pagne. It seemed that Imogene was always taking care that 
 his plate or his glass should be filled. Everything was delight- 
 ful, and his noble host, who, always courteous, had hitherto 
 been reserved, called him "Ferrars." 
 
 AVhat with the fineness of the weather, the inspiration of 
 the excited and countless multitude, the divine stimulus of the 
 luncheon, the kindness of his charming companions, and the 
 general feeling of enjoyment and success that seemed to per- 
 vade his being, Endymion felt as if he were almost acting a 
 distinguished part in some splendid triumph of antiquity, as 
 returning home, the four splendid dark chestnuts swept along, 
 two of their gay company playing bugles, and the grooms sit- 
 ting with folded arms of haughty indifference. 
 
 Just at this moment his eye fell upon an omnibus full, in- 
 side and out, of clerks in his ofiice. There was a momentary 
 stoppage, and while he returned the salute of several of them, 
 
94 ENDYMION. 
 
 his quick eye could not avoid recognizing the slightly surprised 
 glance of Trenchard, the curious amazement of Seymour Hicks, 
 and the indignant astonishment of St. Barbe. 
 
 "Our friend Ferrars seems in tiptop company," said Tren- 
 chard. 
 
 " That may have been a countess on the box," said Seymour 
 Hicks, "for I observed an earl's coronet on the drag. I can 
 not make out who it is." 
 
 "There is no more advantage in going with four horses 
 than with two," said St. Barbe; "indeed, I believe you go 
 slower. It is mere pride ; puffed up vanity. I should like to 
 send those two grooms with their folded arms to the galleys — 
 I hate those fellows. For my part, I never was behind four 
 horses except in a stage coach. No peer of the realm ever 
 took me on his drag. However, a day of reckoning will come ; 
 the people won't stand this much longer." 
 
 Jawett was not there, for he disapproved of races. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Endymion had to encounter a rather sharp volley when he 
 went to the office next morning. After some general remarks 
 as to the distinguished party which he had accompanied to the 
 races, Seymour Hicks could not resist inquiring, though with 
 some circumlocution, whether the lady was a countess. The 
 lady was not a countess. Who was the lady ? The lady was 
 Mrs. Rodney. Who was Mrs. Rodney ? She was the wife of 
 Mr. Rodney, who accompanied her. Was Mr. Rodney a rela- 
 tion of Lord Rodney ? Endymion believed he was not a rela- 
 tion of Lord Rodney. Who was Mr. Rodney then ? 
 " Mr. Rodney is an old friend of my father ?" 
 This natural solution of doubts and difficulties arrested all 
 further inquiry. Generally speaking, the position of Endymion 
 in his new life was satisfactory. He was regular and assiduous 
 in his attendance at his office, was popular with his comrades, 
 and was cherished by his chief, who had even invited him to 
 
WALDERSHARE. 95 
 
 dinner. His duties were certainly at present mechanical, but 
 they were associated with an interesting profession ; and hum- 
 ble as was his lot, he began to feel the pride of public life. He 
 continued to be a regular guest at Joe's, and was careful not to 
 seem to avoid the society of his fellow-clerks in the evenings, 
 for he had an instinctive feeling that it was as well they should 
 not become acquainted with his circle in Warwick Street. And 
 yet to him the attractions of that circle became daily more dif- 
 ficult to resist. And often when he was enduring the purga- 
 tory of the divan, listening to the snarls of St. Barbe over the 
 shameful prosperity of everybody in this world except the 
 snarler, or perhaps went half-price to the pit of Drury Lane 
 with the critical Tren chard, he was, in truth, often restless 
 and absent, and his mind was in another place, indulging in 
 visions which he did not care to analyze, but which were very 
 agreeable. 
 
 One evening, shortly after the expedition to Epsom, while 
 the rest were playing a rubber, Imogene said to him : "I wish 
 you to be friends with Mr. Vigo ; I think he might be of use 
 to you." 
 
 Mr. Vigo was playing whist at this moment ; his partner 
 was Sylvia, and they were playing against Mr. Eodney and 
 Waldershare. 
 
 Waldershare was the tenant of the second floor. He was 
 the young gentleman *^who might some day be a peer." He 
 was a young man of about three or four and twenty years ; 
 fair, with short curly brown hair and blue eyes ; not exactly 
 handsome, but with a countenance full of expression, and the 
 index of quick emotions, whether of joy or of anger. Walder- 
 share was the only child of a younger son of a patrician house, 
 and had inherited from his father a moderate but easy fortune. 
 He had been the earliest lodger of the Eodneys, and, taking- 
 advantage of the Tory reaction, had just been returned to the 
 House of Commons. 
 
 What he would do there was a subject of interesting specu- 
 lation to his numerous friends, and it may be said admirers. 
 Waldershare was one of those vivid and brilliant organizations 
 which exercise a peculiarly attractive influence on youth. He 
 
96 ENDYMIOK 
 
 had been the hero of the debating club at Cambridge, and 
 many belieyed in consequence that he must becoine prime 
 minister. He was witty and fanciful, and though capricious 
 and bad-tempered, could flatter and caress. At Cambridge he 
 had introduced the new Oxford heresy, of which Nigel Pen- 
 ruddock was a votary. Waldershare prayed and fasted, and 
 swore by Laud and Strafford. He took, however, a more emi- 
 nent degree at Paris than at his orig inal Alma Mater, and be- 
 coming passionately addicted to Frinch literature, his views 
 respecting both Church and State became modified — at least 
 in private. His entrance into English society had been highly 
 successful, and as he had a due share of vanity and was by no 
 means free from worldliness, he had enjoyed and pursued his 
 triumphs. But his versatile nature, which required not only 
 constant, but novel excitement, became palled, even with the 
 society of duchesses. There was a monotony in the splendor 
 of aristocratic life which wearied him, and for some time he 
 had persuaded himself that the only people who understood 
 the secret of existence were the family under whose roof he 
 lodged. 
 
 Waldershare was profligate, but sentimental ; unprincipled, 
 but romantic ; the child of whim, and the slave of an imagina- 
 tion so freakish and deceptive that it was always impossible to 
 foretell his course. He was alike capable of sacrificing all his 
 feelings to worldly considerations or of forfeiting the world 
 for a visionary caprice. At present his favorite scheme, and 
 one to which he seemed really attached, was to educate Imo- 
 gene. Under his tuition he had persuaded himself that she 
 would turn out what he styled *^a great woman." An age of 
 vast change, according to Waldershare, was impending over us. 
 There was no male career in which one could confide. Most 
 men of mark would probably be victims, but " a great woman " 
 must always make her way. Whatever the circumstances, she 
 would adapt herself to them ; if necessary, would mold and 
 fashion them. His dream was that Imogene should go forth 
 and conquer the world, and that in the sunset of life he should 
 find a refuge in some corner of her palaces. 
 
 Imogene was only a child when Waldershare first became a 
 
AN- APT SCHOLAR. 97 
 
 lodger. She used to bring liis breakfast to his drawing-room 
 and arrange his table. He encountered her one day, and he 
 requested her to remain, and always preside oyer his meal. He 
 fell in love with her name, and wrote her a series of sonnets, 
 idealizing her past, paneg3rrizing her present, and prophetic of 
 her future life. Imogene, who was neither shy nor obtrusive, 
 was calm amid all his vagaries, humored his fancies, even when 
 she did not understand them, and read his verses as she would 
 a foreign language which she was determined to master. 
 
 Her culture, according to Waldershare, was to be carried 
 on chiefly by conversation. She was not to read, or at least 
 not to read much, until her taste was formed and she had ac- 
 quired the due share of previous knowledge necessary to profit- 
 able study. As Waldershare was eloquent, brilliant, and witty, 
 Imogene listened to him -svith wondering interest and amuse- 
 ment, even when she found some difficulty in following him, 
 but her apprehension was so quick and her tact so fine, that 
 her progress, though she was almost unconscious of it, was 
 remarkable. Sometimes in the evening, while the others were 
 smoking together or playing whist, Waldershare and Imogene, 
 sitting apart, were engaged in apparently the most interesting 
 converse. It was impossible not to observe the animation and 
 earnestness of Waldershare, and the great attention with which 
 his companion responded to his representations. Yet all this 
 time he was only giving her a lecture on Madame de Sevigne. 
 
 Waldershare used to take Imogene to the National Gallery 
 and Hampton Court, and other delightful scenes of popular 
 education, but of late Mrs. Rodney had informed her sister that 
 she was no longer young enough to permit these expeditions. 
 Imogene accepted the announcement without a murmur, but 
 it occasioned Waldershare several sonnets of heartrending re- 
 monstrance. Imogene continued, however, to make his break- 
 fast, and kept his parliamentary papers in order, which he 
 never could manage, but the mysteries of which Imogene mas- 
 tered with feminine quickness and precision. Whenever Wal- 
 dershare was away he always maintained a constant correspond- 
 ence with Imogene. In this he communicated everything to 
 her without the slightest reserve; describing everything he 
 
98 ENDYMION, 
 
 saw, almost everything he heard, pages teeming with anecdotes 
 of a world of which she could know nothing — the secrets of 
 courts and coteries, memoirs of princes and ministers, of dan- 
 dies and dames of fashion. "If anything happens to me," 
 Waldershare would say to Imogene, *'this correspondence may 
 be worth thousands to you, and when it is published it will 
 connect your name with mine, and assist my grand idea of 
 your becoming *a great woman.'" 
 
 " But I do not know Mr. Vigo," whispered Endymion to 
 Imogene. 
 
 ** But you have met him here, and you went together to 
 Epsom. It is enough. He is going to ask you to dine with 
 him on Saturday. We shall be there, and Mr. Waldershare is 
 going. He has a beautiful place, and it will be very pleasant." 
 And exactly as Imogene had anticipated, Mr. Vigo, in the 
 course of the evening, did ask Endymion to do him the honor 
 of becoming his guest. 
 
 The villa of Mr. Vigo was on the banks of the Thames, and 
 had once belonged to a noble customer. The Palladian man- 
 sion contained a suite of chambers of majestic dimensions — 
 lofty ceilings, rich cornices, and vast windows of plate glass ; 
 the gardens were rich with the products of conservatories which 
 Mr. Vigo had raised with every modem improvement, and a 
 group of stately cedars supported the dignity of the scene and 
 gave to it a name. Beyond, a winding walk encircled a large 
 field which Mr. Vigo called the park, and which spai'kled with 
 gold and silver pheasants, and the keeper lived in a newly 
 raised habitation at the extreme end, which took the form of a 
 Swiss cottage. 
 
 The Eodney family, accompanied by Mr. Waldershare and 
 Endymion, went to the Cedars by water. It was a delightful 
 afternoon of June, the river warm and still, and the soft, fit- 
 ful, western breeze, occasionally rich with the perfume of the 
 gardens of Putney and Chiswick. Waldershare talked the 
 whole way. It was a rhapsody of fancy, fun, knowledge, anec- 
 dote, brilliant badinage — «ven passionate seriousness. Some- 
 times he recited poetry, and his voice was musical ; and then, 
 when he had attuned his companions to a sentimental pitch. 
 
ARRIVAL AT THE CEDARS. 99 
 
 he would break into mockery, and touch with delicate satire 
 every mood of human feeling. Endymion listened to him in 
 silence and admiration. He had never heard Waldershare 
 talk before, and he had never heard anybody like him. All 
 this time, what was now, and ever, remarkable in Walder- 
 share were his manners. They were finished, even to court- 
 liness. Affable and winning, he was never familiar. He al- 
 ways addressed Sylvia as if she were one of those duchesses 
 round whom he used to linger. He would bow deferentially 
 to her remarks, and elicit from some of her casual observations 
 an acute or graceful meaning, of which she herself was by no 
 means conscious. The bow of Waldershare was a study. Its 
 grace and ceremony must have been organic ; for there was no 
 traditionary type in existence from which he could have de- 
 rived or inherited it. He certainly addressed Imogene and 
 spoke of her by her Christian name ; but this was partly be- 
 cause he was in love with the name, and partly because he 
 would persist in still treating her as a child. But his manner 
 to her always was that of tender respect. She was almost as 
 silent a8 Endymion during their voyage, but not less attentive 
 to her friend. Mr. Eodney was generally silent, and never 
 opened his mouth on this occasion except in answer to an in- 
 quiry from his wife as to whom a villa might belong, and it 
 seemed always that he knew every villa, and every one to whom 
 they belonged. 
 
 The sisters were in demi-toilet, which seemed artless, 
 though in fact it was profoundly devised. Sylvia was the only 
 person who really understood the meaning of *' simplex mun- 
 ditiis," and this was one of the secrets of her success. There 
 were some ladies, on the lawn of the Cedars when they arrived, 
 not exactly of their school, and who were finely and fully 
 dressed. Mrs. Gamme was the wife of a sporting attorney, a 
 friend of Mr. Vigo, and who also, having a villa at hand, was 
 looked upon as a country neighbor. Mrs . Gamme was univer- 
 sally recognized to be a fine woman, and she dressed up to her 
 reputation. She was a famous whist-player at high points, 
 and dealt the cards with hands covered with diamond rings. 
 Another country neighbor was the chief partner in the cele- 
 
100 ENDYMION. 
 
 brated firm of Hooghley, Dacca and Co., dealers in Indian and 
 other shawls. Mr. Hooghley had married a celebrated actress, 
 and was proud and a little jealous of his wife. Mrs. Hooghley 
 had always an opportunity at the Cedars of meeting some friends 
 in her former profession, for Mr. Vigo liked to be surrounded 
 by genius and art. "I must have talent," he would exclaim, 
 as he looked round at the amusing and motley multitude as- 
 sembled at his splendid entertainments. And to-day upon his 
 lawn might be observed the first tenor of the opera and a prima- 
 donna who had just arrived, several celebrated members of the 
 English stage of both sexes, artists of great reputation, whose 
 principal works already adorned the well-selected walls of the 
 Cedars, a danseuse or two of celebrity, some literary men, as 
 Mr. Vigo styled them, who were chiefly brethren of the peri- 
 odical press, and more than one member of either house of Par- 
 liament. 
 
 Just as the party were preparing to leave the lawn and en- 
 ter the dining-room arrived, breathless and glowing, the young 
 earl who had driven the Rodneys to the Derby. 
 
 "A shaver, my dear Vigo ! Only returned to town this 
 afternoon, and found your invitation. How fortunate ! " And 
 then he looked around, and recognizing Mrs. Rodney was im- 
 mediately at her side. " I must have the honor of taking you 
 in to dinner. I got your note, but only by this morning's 
 post." 
 
 The dinner was a banquet — a choice bouquet before every 
 guest, turtle and venison and piles of whitebait, and pine-ap- 
 ples of prodigious size, and bunches of grapes that had gained 
 prizes. The champagne seemed to flow in fountains, and was 
 only interrupted that the guest might quafl! Burgundy or taste 
 Tokay. But what was more delightful than all was the enjoy- 
 ment of all present, and especially of their host. That is a 
 rare sight. Banquets are not rare, nor choice guests, nor gra- 
 cious hosts ; but when do we ever see a person enjoy anything ? 
 But these gay children of art and whim, and successful labor 
 and happy speculation, some of them very rich and some of 
 them without a sou, seemed only to think of the festive hour 
 and all its joya. Neither wealth nor poverty brought them 
 
AFTER TEE BANQUET. 101 
 
 cares. Every face sparkled, every word seemed witty, and 
 every sound seemed sweet. A band played upon the lawn 
 during the dinner, and were succeeded, when the desert com- 
 menced, by strange choruses from singers of some foreign land, 
 who for the first time aired their picturesque costumes on the 
 banks of the Thames. 
 
 When the ladies had withdrawn to the saloon, the first 
 comic singer of the age excelled himself ; and when they re- 
 joined their fair friends, the primo-tenore and the prima-donna 
 gave them a grand scena, succeeded by the English perform- 
 ers in a favorite scene from a famous fal-ce. Then Mrs. Gamme 
 had an opportunity of dealing with her diamond rings, and 
 the rest danced — a waltz of whirling grace, or merry cotillon 
 of jocund bouquets. 
 
 "Well, Clarence," said Waldershare to the young earl, as 
 they stood for a moment apart, " was I right ?" 
 
 "By Jove ! yes. It is the only life. You were quite right. 
 We should indeed be fools to sacrifice ourselves to the conven- 
 tional." 
 
 The Eodney party returned home in the drag of the last 
 speaker. They were the last to retire, as Mr. Vigo wished for 
 one cigar with his noble friend. As he bade farewell, and 
 cordially, to Endymion, he said, "Call on me to-morrow 
 morning in Burlington Street in your way to your office. Do 
 not mind the hour. I am an early bird." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 *It is no favor," said Mr. Vigo ; "it is not even an act of 
 friendliness ; it is a freak, and it is my freak ; the favor, if 
 there be one, is conferred by you." 
 
 " But I really do not know what to say," said Endymion, 
 hesitating and confused. 
 
 "I am not a classical scholar," said Mr. Vigo, "but there 
 are two things which I think I understand — men and horses. 
 I like to back them both when I think they ought to win." 
 
102 ENDYMI02r. 
 
 *'But I am scarcely a man," said Endymion, rather pite- 
 ously, "and I sometimes think I shall never win anything." 
 
 " That is my affair," replied Mr. Vigo ; "you are a year- 
 ling, and I have formed my judgment as to your capacity. 
 "What I wish to do in your case is what I have done in others, 
 and some memorable ones. Dress does not make a man, but it 
 often makes a successful one. The most precious stone, you 
 know, must be cut and polished. I shall enter your name in 
 my books for an unlimited credit, and no account to be settled 
 till you are a privy councilor. I do not limit the credit, be- 
 cause you are a man (Si sense and a gentleman, and will not 
 abuse it. But be quite as careful not to stint yourself as not 
 to be needlessly extravagant. In the first instance, you would 
 be interfering with my experiment, and that would not be 
 fair." 
 
 This conversation took place in Mr. Vigo's counting-house 
 the morning after the entertainment at his villa. Endymion 
 called upon Mr. Vigo in his way to his office, as he had been 
 requested to do, and Mr. Vigo had expressed his wishes and 
 intentions with regard to Endymion as intimated in the preced- 
 ing remarks. 
 
 " I have known many an heiress lost by her suitor being 
 ill-dressed," said Mr. Vigo. "You must dress according to 
 your age, your pursuits, your object in life ; you must dress 
 too, in some cases, according to your set. In youth a little 
 fancy is rather expected, but if political life be your object, it 
 should be avoided, at least after one-and-twenty. I am dress- 
 ing two brothers now, men of considerable position ; one is a 
 mere man of pleasure, the other will probably be a minister of 
 state. They are as like as two peas, but were I to dress the 
 dandy and the minister the same, it would be bad taste — it 
 would be ridiculous. No man gives me the trouble which 
 Lord Eglantine does ; he has not made up his mind whether 
 he will be a great poet or prime minister. ' You must choose, 
 my lord,' I tell him. *I can not send you out looking like 
 Lord Byron if you mean to be a Canning or a Pitt.' I have 
 dressed -a great many of our statesmen and orators, and I al- 
 ways dressed them according to their style and the nature of 
 
CORRESPONDENCE. 103 
 
 tlieir duties. What all men should avoid is the 'shabby gen- 
 teel.' No man ever gets over it. I will save you from that. 
 You had better be in rags," 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Whek the twins had separated, they had resolved on a sys- 
 tem of communication which had been, at least on the part of 
 Myra, scrupulously maintained. They were to interchange let- 
 ters every week, and each letter was to assume, if possible, the 
 shape of a journal, so that when they again met no portion of 
 the interval should be a blank in their past lives. There were 
 few incidents in the existence of Myra ; a book, a walk, a visit 
 to the rectory, were among the chief. The occupations of their 
 father were unchanged, and his health seemed sustained, but 
 that of her mother was not satisfactory. Mrs. Ferrars had 
 never rallied since the last discomfiture of her political hopes, 
 and had never resumed her previous tenor of life. She was se- 
 cluded, her spirits uncertain, moods of depression succeeded 
 by fits of unaccountable excitement, and, on the whole, Myra 
 feared a general and chronic disturbance of her nervous sys- 
 tem. His sister prepared Endymion for encountering a great 
 change in their parent when he returned home. Myra, how- 
 ever, never expatiated on the affairs of Hurstley. Her annals 
 in this respect were somewhat dry. She fulfilled her promise 
 of recording them, but no more. Her pen was fuller and more 
 eloquent in her comments on the life of her brother and of the 
 new characters with whom he had become acquainted. She 
 delighted to hear about Mr. Jawett, and especially about Mr. 
 St. Barbe, and was much pleased that he had been to the Derby, 
 though she did not exactly collect who were his companions. 
 Did he go with that kind Mr. Trenchard ? It would seem, 
 that Endymion's account of the Rodney family had been lim- 
 ited to vague though earnest acknowledgments of their great 
 civility and attention, which added much to the comfort of his 
 life. Impelled by some of these grateful though general re- 
 
104 ENDYMIOK 
 
 marks, Mrs. Ferrars, in a paroxysm of stately gratitude, had 
 sent a missive to Sylvia, such as a sovereign might address to a 
 deserving subject, at the same time acknowledging and com- 
 mending her duteous services. Such was the old domestic su- 
 perstition of the Eodneys, that, with all their worldliness, they 
 treasured this effusion as if it had really emanated from the 
 center of power and courtly favor. 
 
 Myra, in her anticipations of speedily meeting her brother, 
 was doomed to disappointment. She had counted on Endym- 
 ion obtaining some holidays in the usual recess, but in conse- 
 quence of having so recently joined the office, Endymion was 
 retained for summer and autumnal work, and not until Christ- 
 mas was there any prospect of his returning home. 
 
 The interval between midsummer and that period, though 
 not devoid of seasons of monotony and loneliness, passed in a 
 way not altogether unprofitable to Endymion. Waldershare, 
 who had begun to notice him, seemed to become interested in 
 his career. Waldershare knew all about his historic ancestor, 
 Endymion Carey. The bubbling imagination of Waldershare 
 clustered with a sort of wild fascination round a living link 
 with the age of the cavaliers. He had some Stuart blood in 
 his veins, and his ancestors had fallen at Edgehill and Marston 
 Moor. Waldershare, whose fancies alternated between Strafford 
 and St. Just, Archbishop Laud and the Goddess of Reason, re- 
 verted for the moment to his visions on the banks of the Cam, 
 and the brilliant rhapsodies of his boyhood. His converse with 
 Nigel Penruddock had prepared Endymion in some degree for 
 these mysteries, and perhaps it was because Waldershare found 
 that Endymion was by no means ill-informed on these matters, 
 and therefore there was less opportunity of dazzling and mold- 
 ing him, which was a passion with Waldershare, that he soon 
 quitted the Great Eebellion for pastures new, and impressed 
 upon his pupil that all that had occurred before the French Rev- 
 olution was ancient history. The French Revolution had in- 
 troduced the cosmopolitan principle into human affairs instead 
 of the national, and no public man could succeed who did not 
 comprehend and acknowledge that truth. Waldershare lent 
 Endymion books, and books with which otherwise he would 
 
ST. BARBE m THE SUBURBS. 105 
 
 not have become acquainted. Unconsciously to himself, the 
 talk of Waldershare, teeming with knowledge, and fancy, and 
 playfulness, and airy sarcasm of life, taught him something of 
 the art of conversation — to be prompt without being stubborn, 
 to refute without argument, and to clothe grave matters in a 
 motley garb. 
 
 But in August Waldershare disappeared, and at the begin- 
 ning of September, even the Eodneys had gone to Margate. 
 St. Barbe was the only clerk left in Endymion's room. They 
 dined together almost every day, and went on the top of an 
 omnibus to many a surburban paradise. '^ I tell you what,'' 
 said St. Barbe, as they were watching one day together the 
 humors of the world in the crowded tea-garden and bustling 
 bowling-green of Canonbury Tavern; '^a fellow might get a 
 good chapter out of this scene. I could do it, but I will not. 
 What is the use of lavishing one's brains on an ungrateful 
 world ? Why, if that fellow Gushy were to write a description 
 of this place, which he would do like a penny-a-liner drunk 
 with ginger-beer, every countess in Mayfair would be reading 
 him, not knowing, the idiot, whether she ought to smile or 
 shed tears, and sending him cards with * at home ' upon them 
 as large as life. Oh ! it is disgusting ! absolutely disgusting. 
 It is a nefarious world, sir. You will find it out some day. I 
 am as much robbed by that fellow Gushy as men are on the 
 highway. He is appropriating my income, and the income of 
 thousands of honest fellows. And then he pretends he is writ- 
 ing for the people ! The people ! What does he know about 
 the people ! Annals of the New Cut and Saffron Hill. He 
 thinks he will frighten some lord, who will ask him to dinner. 
 And that he calls Progress. I hardly know which is the worst, 
 class in this country — the aristocracy, the middle class, or what 
 they call the people. I hate them all." 
 
 About the fall of the leaf the offices were all filled again, 
 and among the rest Trenchard returned. " His brother has 
 been ill," said St. Barbe. *' They say that Trenchard is very 
 fond of him. Fond of a brother who keeps him out of four 
 thousand pounds per annum ! What will man not say ? And 
 yet I could not go and congratulate Trenchard on his brother's 
 
106 EKDYMIOK. 
 
 death. It would be 'bad taste.' Trenchard would perhaps 
 never speak to me again, though he had been lying awake all 
 night chuckling over the event. And Gushy takes an amiable 
 view of this world of hypocrisy and plunder. And that is why 
 Gushy is so popular ! " 
 
 There was one incident at the beginning of November, 
 which eventually exercised no mean influence on the life ox 
 Endymion. Trenchard offered one evening to introduce him 
 as a guest to a celebrated debating society, of which Trenchard 
 was a distinguished member. This society had grown out of 
 the Union at Cambridge, and was originally intended to have 
 been a metropolitan branch of that famous association. But 
 in process of time it was found that such a constitution was too 
 limited to insure those members and that variety of mind de- 
 sirable in such an institution . It was therefore opened to the 
 whole world duly qualified. The predominant element, how- 
 ever, for a long time consisted of Cambridge men. 
 
 This society used to meet in a large room, fitted up as much 
 like the House of Commons as possible, and which was in 
 Freemasons' Tavern, in Great Queen Street. Some hundred 
 and fifty members were present when Endymion paid his first 
 visit there, and the scene to Endymion was novel and deeply 
 interesting. Though only a giiest, he was permitted to sit in 
 the body of the chamber, by the side of Trenchard, who kindly 
 gave him some information, as the proceedings advanced, as to 
 the principal personages who took part in them. 
 
 The question to-night was, whether the decapitation of 
 Charles the Eirst were a justifiable act, and the debate was 
 opened in the affirmative by a young man with a singularly 
 sunny face and a voice of music. His statement was clear and 
 calm. Though nothing could be more uncompromising than 
 his opinions, it seemed that nothing could be fairer than his 
 facts. 
 
 ** That is Hortensius," said Trenchard ; " he will be called 
 this term. They say he did nothing at the university, and is 
 too idle to do anything at the bar ; but I think highly of him. 
 You should hear him in reply." 
 
 The opening speech was seconded by a very young man, in 
 
A DEBATE. 107 
 
 a most' artificial style, remarkable for its superfluity of intend- 
 ed sarcasm, which was delivered in a highly elaborate tone, so 
 that the speaker seemed severe without being keen. 
 
 "'Tis the new Cambridge style," whispered Trenchard, 
 "but it will not go down here." 
 
 The question having been launched. Spruce arose, a very 
 neat speaker ; a little too mechanical, but plausible. Endym- 
 ion was astonished at the dextrous turns in his own favor 
 which he gave to many of the statements of HortK3nsius, and 
 how he mangled and massacred the seconder, who had made a 
 mistake in a date. 
 
 " He is the Tory leader," said Trenchard. *' There are not 
 twenty Tories in the Union, but we always listen to him. He 
 is sharp. Jawett will answer him." 
 
 And, accordingly, that great man ix)se. Jawett, in dulcet 
 tones of philanthropy, intimated that he was not opposed to 
 the decapitation of kings ; on the contrary, if there were no 
 other way of getting rid of them, he would have recourse to 
 such a method. But he did not think the case before them 
 was justifiable. 
 
 "Always crotchety," whispered Trenchard. 
 
 Jawett thought the whole conception of the opening speech 
 erroneous. It proceeded on the assumption that the execution 
 of Charles was the act of the people ; on the contrary, it was 
 an intrigue of Cromwell, who was the only person who profited 
 by it. 
 
 Cromwell was vindicated and panegyrized in a flaming, 
 speech, by Montreal, who took this opportunity of denounc- 
 ing alike kings and bishops. Church and State, with powerful 
 invective, terminating his address by the expression of an ear- 
 nest hope that he might be spared to witness the inevitable 
 Commonwealth of England. 
 
 "He only lost his election for Rattleton by ten votes," said 
 Trenchard. " We call him the Lord Protector, and his friends 
 here think he will be so. " 
 
 The debate was concluded, after another hour, by Horten- 
 sius, and Endymion was struck by the contrast between his 
 first and second manner. Safe from reply, and reckless in his 
 
108 ENDYMION, 
 
 security, it is not easy to describe the audacity of his letorts, 
 or the tumult of his eloquence. Kapid, sarcastic, humorous, 
 picturesque, impassioned, he seemed to carry everything before 
 him, and to resemble his former self in nothing but the music 
 of his Yoice, which lent melody to scorn, and sometimes reached 
 the depth of pathos. 
 
 Endymion walked home with Mr. Trenchard, and in a 
 musing mood. "I should not care how lazy I was," said En- 
 dymion, **if I could speak like Hortensius." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The snow was falling about the time when the Swindon 
 coach, in which Endymion was a passenger, was expected at 
 Hurstley, and the snow had been falling all day. Nothing had 
 been more dreary than the outward world, or less entitled to 
 the merry epithet which is the priyilege of the season. The 
 gardener had been dispatched to the village inn, where the 
 coach stopped, with a lantern and cloaks and umbrellas. With- 
 in the house the huge blocks of smoldering beech sent forth a 
 hospitable heat, and, whenever there was a sound, Myra threw 
 cones on the inflamed mass, that Endymion might be welcomed 
 with a blaze. Mrs. Ferrars who had appeared to-day, though 
 late, and had been very nervous and excited, broke down half 
 an hour before her son could arrive, and, murmuring that she 
 would reappear, had^ retired. Her husband was apparently 
 reading, but his eye wandered and his mind was absent from 
 the volume. 
 
 The dogs barked, Mr. Eerrars threw down his book, Myra 
 forgot her cones ; the door burst open, and she was in her 
 brother's arms. 
 
 " And where is mamma ? " said Endymion, after he had 
 greeted his father. 
 
 "She will be here directly," said Mr. Ferrars. "You are 
 late, and the suspense of your arrival a little agitated her." 
 
 Three quarters of a year had elapsed since the twins had 
 
RETURN TO EURSTLEY. 109 
 
 parted, and they were at that period of life when such an in- 
 terval often produces no slight changes in personal appearance. 
 Endymion, always tall for his years, had considerably grown ; 
 his air and manner and dress were distinguished. But three 
 quarters of a year had produced a still greater effect upon his 
 sister. He had left her a beautiful girl : her beauty was not 
 less striking, but it was now the beauty of a woman. Her mien 
 was radiant but commanding, and her brow, always remarka- 
 ble, was singularly impressive. 
 
 They stood in animated converse before the fire, Endymion 
 between his father and his sister and retaining of each a hand, 
 when Mr. Eerrars nodded to Myra and said, " I think now ; " 
 and Myra, not reluctantly, but not with happy eagerness, left 
 the room. 
 
 " She is gone for your poor mother," said Mr. Eerrars ; " we 
 are uneasy about her, my dear boy." 
 
 M3rra was some time away, and when she returned she was 
 alone. "She says she must see him first in her room," said 
 Mjrra, in a low voice, to her father ; "but that will never do ; 
 you or I must go with him." 
 
 " You had better go," said Mr. Eerrars. 
 
 She took her brother's hand and led him away. " I go with 
 you, to prevent dreadful scenes," said his sister, on the stair- 
 case. " Try to behave just as in old times, and as if you saw 
 no change." 
 
 Myra went into the chamber first to give to her mother, if 
 possible, the keynote of the interview, and of which she had 
 already furnished the prelude. " We are all so happy to see 
 Endymion again, dear mamma. Papa is quite gay." 
 
 And then when Endymion, answering his sister's beckon, 
 entered, Mrs. Eerrars rushed forward with a sort of laugh, and 
 cried out, " Oh, I am so happy to see you again, my child ! I 
 feel quite gay." 
 
 He embraced her, but he could not believe it was his moth- 
 er. A vision at once haggard and bloated had supplanted that 
 soft and rich countenance which had captivated so many. A 
 robe concealed her attenuated frame ; but the lustrous eyes 
 were bleared and bloodshot, and the accents of the voice, which 
 
110 ENDYMIOK, 
 
 used to be at once melodious and a little drawling, hoarse, 
 harsh, and hurried. 
 
 She never stopped talking ; but it was all in one key, and 
 that the prescribed one — ^her happiness at his arrival, the uni- 
 versal gayety it had produced, and the merry Christmas they 
 were to keep. After a time she began to recur to the past, and 
 to sigh ; but instantly Myra interfered with " You know, mam- 
 ma, you are to dine down stairs to-day, and you will hardly 
 have time to dress ; " and she motioned to Endymion to re- 
 tire. 
 
 Mrs. Ferrars kept the dinner waiting a long time, and, 
 when she entered the room, it was evident that she was pain- 
 fully excited. She had a cap on, and had used some rouge. 
 
 "Endymion must take me in to dinner," she hurriedly ex- 
 claimed, as she entered, and then grasped her son's arm. 
 
 It seemed a happy and even a merry dinner, and yet there 
 was something about it forced and constrained. Mrs. Ferrars 
 talked a great deal, and Endymion told them a great many 
 anecdotes of those men and things which most interested them, 
 and Myra seemed to be absorbed in his remarks and narratives, 
 and his mother would drink his health more than once, when 
 suddenly she went into hysterics, and all was anarchy. Mr. 
 Ferrars looked distressed and infinitely sad ; and Myra, putting 
 her arm round her mother, and whispering words of calm or 
 comfort, managed to lead her out of the room, and neither of 
 them returned. 
 
 " Poor creature ! " said Mr. Ferrars with a sigh. ** Seeing 
 you has been too much for her." 
 
 The next morning Endymion and his sister paid a visit to 
 the rectory, and there they met Nigel, who was passing his 
 Christmas at home. This was a happy meeting. The rector 
 had written an essay on squirrels, and showed them a glass con- 
 taining that sportive little animal in all its frolic forms. Farm- 
 er Thornberry had ordered a path to be cleared on the green 
 from the hall to the rectory ; and "that is all," said Mrs. Pen- 
 ruddock, "we have to walk upon, except the high road. The 
 snow has drifted to such a degree that it is impossible to get to 
 the Chase. I went out the day before yesterday with Carlo as 
 
BROKEN HEALTH. HI 
 
 a guide. When I did not clearly make out my way, I sent 
 him forward, and sometimes I could only see his black head 
 emerging from the snow. So I had to retreat." 
 
 Mrs. Ferrars did not appear this day. Endymion yisited 
 her in her room. He found her flighty and incoherent. She 
 seemed to think that he had returned permanently to Hurst- 
 ley, and said she never had any good opinion of the scheme of 
 his leaving them. If it had been the Foreign Office, as was 
 promised, and his father had been in the Cabinet, which was 
 his right, it might have been all very well. But, if he were 
 to leave home, he ought to have gone into the Guards, and it 
 w^as not too late. And then they might live in a small house 
 in town, and look after him. There were small houses in Wil- 
 ton Crescent, which would do very well. Besides, she herself 
 wanted change of air. Hurstley did not agree with her. She 
 had no appetite. She never was well except in London, or 
 Wimbledon. She wished that, as Endymion was here, he 
 would speak to his father on the subject. She saw no reason 
 why they should not live at their place at Wimbledon as well 
 as here. It was not so large a house, and, therefore, would 
 not be so expensive. 
 
 Endymion's holiday was only to last a week, and Myra 
 seemed jealous of his sparing any portion of it to Kigel ; yet 
 the rector's son was sedulous in his endeavors to enjoy the so- 
 ciety of his former companion. There seemed some reason for 
 his calling at the hall every day. Mr. Ferrars broke through 
 his habits, and invited Nigel to dine with them ; and after 
 dinner, saying that he would visit Mrs. Ferrars, who was un- 
 well, left them alone. It was the only time they had yet been 
 alone. Endymion found that there was no change in the feel- 
 ings and views of Nigel respecting Church matters, except that 
 his sentiments and opinions were more assured, and, if possible, 
 more advanced. He would not tolerate any reference to the 
 state of the nation ; it was the state of the Church which en- 
 grossed his being. No government was endurable that was 
 not divine. The Church was divine, and on that he took his 
 stand. 
 
 Nigel was to take his degree next term, and orders as soon 
 
112 ENDYMION, . 
 
 as possible. He looked forward with confidi3nce, after doubt- 
 less a period of disturbance, confusion, probably yiolence, and 
 even anarchy, to the establishment of an ecclesiastical polity 
 that would be catholic throughout the realm. Endymion just 
 intimated the very contrary opinions that Jawett held upon 
 these matters, and mentioned, though not as an adherent, some 
 of the cosmopolitan sentiments of Waldershare. 
 
 ** The Church is cosmopolitan," said Nigel ; *Hhe only 
 practicable means by which you can attain to identity of motive 
 and action." 
 
 Then they rejoined Myra, but Nigel soon recurred to the 
 absorbing theme. His powers had much developed since he 
 and Endymion used to wander together over Hurstley Chase. 
 He had great eloquence, his views were startling and com- 
 manding, and his expressions forcible and picturesque. All 
 was heightened, too, by his striking personal appearance and 
 the beauty of his voice. He seemed something between a 
 young prophet and an inquisitor ; a remarkable blending of 
 enthusiasm and self-control. 
 
 A person more experienced in human nature than Endym- 
 ion might have observed that all this time, while Nigel was 
 to all appearances chiefly addressing himself to Endymion, he 
 was, in fact, endeavoring to impress his sister. Endymion 
 knew, from the correspondence of Myra, that Nigel had been, 
 especially in the summer, much at Hurstley ; and when he was 
 alone with his sister, he could not help remarking, " Nigel is 
 as strong as ever in his views. " 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " he is very clever and very good-look- 
 ing. It is a pity he is going into the Church. I do not like 
 clergymen." 
 
 On the third day of the visit, Mrs. Ferrars was announced 
 to be unwell, and in the evening very unwell ; and Mr. Ferrars 
 sent to the nearest medical man, and he was distant, to attend 
 her. The medical man did not arrive until past midnight, 
 and, after visiting his patient, looked grave. She had fever, 
 but of what character it was difficult to decide. The medi- 
 cal man had brought some remedies with him, and he staid 
 the night at the hall. It was a night of anxiety and alarm. 
 
FOUR TERRIBLE HOURS, 113 
 
 and the household did not retire until nearly the break of 
 dawn. 
 
 The next day it seemed that the whole of the Penruddock 
 family were in the house. Mrs. Penruddock insisted on nurs- 
 ing Mrs. Ferrars, and her husband looked as if he thought he 
 might be wanted. It was unreasonable that Nigel should be 
 left alone. His presence, always pleasing, was a relief to an 
 anxious family, and who were beginning to get alarmed. The 
 fever did not subside. On the contrary, it increased, and there 
 were other dangerous symptoms. There was a physician of 
 fame at Oxford, whom Nigel wished they would call in. Mat- 
 ters were too pressing to wait for posts, and too complicated to 
 trust to an ordinary messenger. Nigel, who was always well 
 mounted, was in his saddle in an instant. He seemed to be all 
 resource, consolation, and energy : " If I gm fortunate, he will 
 be here in four hours ; at all events, I will not return alone." 
 
 Four terrible hours were these : Mr. Ferrars, restless and 
 sad, and listening with a vacant or an absent look to the kind 
 and unceasing talk of the rector ; M3rra, silent in her mother's 
 chamber ; and Endymion, wandering about alone with his eyes 
 full of tears. This was the Merrie Christmas he had talked of, 
 and this his long-looked-for holiday. He could think of no- 
 thing but his mother's kindness ; and the days gone by, when 
 she was so bright and happy, came back to him with painful 
 vividness. It seemed to him that he belonged to a doomed 
 and unhappy family. Youth and its unconscious mood had 
 hitherto driven this thought from his mind ; but it occurred to 
 him now, and would not be driven away. 
 
 Nigel was fortunate. Before sunset he returned to Hurst- 
 ley in a postchaise with the Oxford physician, whom he had 
 furnished with an able and accurate diagnosis of the case. 
 All that art could devise, and all that devotion could suggest, 
 were lavished on the sufferer, but in vain ; and four days after- 
 ward, the last day of Endymion's long-awaited holiday, Mr. 
 Ferrars closed for ever the eyes of that brilliant being, who, 
 with some weaknesses, but many noble qualities, had shared 
 with no unequal spirit the splendor and the adversity of his 
 existence. 
 
114: ENDYMIOK 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Nigel took a high degree and obtained first-class honors. 
 He was ordained by the bishop of the diocese as soon after as 
 possible. His con^)anions, who looked up to him with eyery 
 expectation of his eminence and influence, were disappointed, 
 however, in the course of life on which he decided. It was 
 different from that which he had led them to suppose it would 
 be. They had counted on his becoming a resident light of the 
 University, filling its highest offices, and ultimately reaching 
 the loftiest stations in the Church. Instead of that, he an- 
 nounced that he had resolved to become a curate to his father, 
 and that he was about to bury himself in the solitude of 
 Hurstley. 
 
 It was in the early summer following the death of Mrs. 
 Ferrars that he settled there. He was frequently at the hall, 
 and became intimate with Mr. Ferrars. Notwithstanding the 
 difference of age, there was between them a sympathy of knowl- 
 edge and thought. In spite of his decided mind, Nigel listened 
 to Mr. Ferrars with deference, soliciting his judgment, and 
 hanging, as it were, on his accents of wise experience and re- 
 fined taste. So Nigel became a favorite with Mr. Ferrars ; for 
 there are few things more flattering than the graceful submis- 
 sion of an accomplished intellect, and, when accompanied by 
 youth, the spell is sometimes fascinating. 
 
 The death of his wife seemed to have been a great blow to 
 Mr. Ferrars. The expression of his careworn, yet still hand- 
 some, countenance became, if possible, more saddened. It was 
 with difficulty that his daughter could induce him to take ex- 
 ercise, and he had lost altogether that seeming interest in their 
 outer world which once at least he affected to feel. Myra, 
 though ever content to be alone, had given up herself much to 
 her father since his great sorrow ; but she felt that her efforts 
 to distract him from his broodings were not eminently success- 
 ful, and she hailed with a feeling of relief the establishment of 
 Nigel in the parish, and the consequent intimacy that arose 
 between him and her father. 
 
NIGEL AT THE HALL. 115 
 
 Nigel and Myra were necessarily under these circumstances 
 thrown much together. As time advanced he passed his even- 
 ings generally at the hall, for he was a proficient in the only 
 game which interested Mr. Ferrars, and that was chess. Eead- 
 ing and writing all day, Mr. Ferrars required some remission 
 of attention, and his relaxation was chess. Before the games, 
 and between the games, and during delightful tea-time, and 
 for the happy quarter of an hour which ensued when the chief 
 employment of the evening ceased, Nigel appealed much to 
 Myra, and endeavored to draw out her mind and feelings. He 
 lent her books, and books that favored, indirectly at least, his 
 own peculiar views — volumes of divine poesy that had none of 
 the twang of psalmody, tales of tender and sometimes wild and 
 brilliant fancy, but ever full of symbolic truth. 
 
 Chess-playing requires complete abstraction, and Nigel, 
 though he was a double first, occasionally lost a game from a 
 lapse in that condensed attention that secures triumph. The 
 fact is, he was too frequently thinking of something else besides 
 the moves on the board, and his ear was engaged while his eye 
 wandered, if Myra chanced to rise from her seat or make the 
 slightest observation. 
 
 The woods were beginning to assume the first fair livery of 
 autumn, when it is beautiful without decay. The lime and 
 the larch had not yet dropped a golden leaf, and the burnished 
 beeches flamed in the sun. Every now and then an occasional 
 oak or elm rose, still as full of deep green foliage as if it were 
 midsummer ; while the dark verdure of the pines sprang up 
 with effective contrast amid the gleaming and resplendent 
 chestnuts. 
 
 There was a glade at Hurstley, bounded on each side with 
 masses of yew, their dark green forms now studded with crim- 
 son berries. Myra was walking one morning in this glade when 
 she met Nigel, who was on one of his daily pilgrimages, and he 
 turned round and walked by her side. 
 
 *^ I am sure I can not give you news of your brother," he 
 said, '*but I have had a letter this morning from Endymion. 
 He seems to take great interest in his debating club." 
 
 '' I am so glad he has become a member of it," said Myra. 
 
116 ENDYMION. 
 
 *' That kind Mr. Trenchard, whom I shall never see to thank 
 him for all his goodness to Endymion, proposed him. It occu- 
 pies his evenings twice a week, and then it gives him subjects 
 to think of and read up in the interval." 
 
 *'Yes; it is a good thing," said Nigel, moodily; "and if 
 he is destined for public life, which perhaps he may be, no con- 
 temptible discipline." 
 
 " Dear boy ! " said Myra, with a sigh. " I do not see what 
 public life he is destined to, except slaving at a desk. But 
 sometimes one has dreams." 
 
 ** Yes ; we all have dreams," said Nigel, with an air of ab- 
 straction. ■ 
 
 " It is impossible to resist the fascination of a fine autum- 
 nal mom," said Myra ; "but give me the long days of summer 
 and its rich leafy joys. I like to wander about, and dine at 
 nine o'clock." 
 
 " Delightful, doubtless, with a sympathizing companion." 
 
 "Endymion was such a charming companion," said Myra. 
 
 "But he has left us," said Nigel ; " and you are alone." 
 
 " I am alone," said Myra ; " but I am used to solitude, and 
 I can think of him. " 
 
 "Would I were Endymion," said Nigel, "to be thought of 
 by you." 
 
 Myra looked at him with something of a stare ; but he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "All seasons would be to me fascination, were I only by 
 your side. Yes ; I can no longer repress the irresistible con- 
 fession of my love. I am here, and I am here only, because I 
 love you. I quitted Oxford and all its pride that I might have 
 the occasional delight of being your companion. I was not 
 presumptuous in my thoughts, and believed that would con- 
 tent me ; but I can no longer resist the consummate spell, and 
 I offer you my heart and my life." 
 
 "I am amazed; I am a little overwhelmed," said Myra. 
 "Pardon me, dear Mr. Penruddock — dear Nigel — ^you speak 
 of things of which I have not thought." 
 
 " Think of them ! I implore you to think of them, and 
 now!" 
 
A SISTERS DEVOTION. 117 
 
 " We are a fallen family," said Myra, "perhaps a doomed 
 one. We are not people to connect yourself with. You have 
 witnessed some of our sorrows, and soothed them. I shall be 
 ever grateful to you for the past. But I sometimes feel our 
 cup is not yet full, and I have long resolved to bear my cross 
 alone. But, irrespective of all other considerations, I can 
 never leave my father. " 
 
 "I have spoken to your father," said Nigel, "and he ap- 
 proved my suit." 
 
 "While my father lives I shall not quit him," said Myra ; 
 "but, let me not mislead you, I do not live for my father — I 
 live for another." 
 
 "For another ?" inquired Nigel, with anxiety. 
 
 "For one you know. My life is devoted to Endymion. 
 There is a mystic bond between us, originating, perhaps, in the 
 circumstance of our birth ; for we are twins. I never mean to 
 embarrass him with a sister's love, and perhaps hereafter may 
 see less of him even than I see now ; but I shall be in the 
 world, whatever be my lot, high or low — the active, stirring 
 world — working for him, thinking alone of him. Yes ; mold- 
 ing events and circumstances in his favor ; " and she spoke with 
 fiery animation. "I have brought myself, by long meditation, 
 to the conviction that a human being with a settled purpose 
 must accomplish it, and that nothing can resist a will that will 
 stake even existence for its fulfillment." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 EiS'DYMiOK had" returned to his labors, after the death of 
 his mother, much dispirited. Though young and hopeful, his 
 tender heart could not be insensible to the tragic end. There 
 is anguish in the recollection that we have not adequately ap- 
 preciated the affection of those whom we have loved and lost. 
 It tortured him to feel that he had often accepted with care- 
 lessness or indifference the homage of a heart that had been to 
 him ever faithful in its multiplied devotion. Then, though 
 
118 ENDYMION. 
 
 he was not of a melancholy and brooding nature, in this mo- 
 ment of bereavement he could not driye from his mind the 
 consciousness that there had long been hanging over his home 
 a dark lot, as it were, of progressive adversity. His family 
 seemed always sinking, and he felt conscious how the sanguine 
 spirit of his mother had sustained them in their trials. His 
 father had already made him the depository of his hopeless 
 cares ; and if anything happened to that father, old and worn 
 out before his time, what would become of Myra ? 
 
 Nigel, who in their great calamity seemed to have thought 
 of everything, and to have done everything, had written to the 
 chief of the office, and also to Mr. Trenchard, explaining the 
 cause of the absence of Endymion from his duties. There 
 were no explanations, therefore, necessary when he reappeared ; 
 no complaints, but only sympathy and general kindness. In 
 Warwick Street there was unaffected sorrow ; Sylvia wept and 
 went into the prettiest mourning for her patroness, and Mr. 
 Rodney wore a crape on his hat. **I never saw her," said 
 Imogene, " but I am told she was heavenly." 
 
 Waldershare was very kind to Endymion, and used to take 
 him to the House of Commons on interesting evenings, and, if 
 he succeeded in getting Endymion a place under the gallery, 
 would come and talk to him in the course of the night, and 
 sometimes introduce him to the mysteries of Bellamy's, where 
 Endymion had the satisfaction of partaking of a steak in the 
 presence of statesmen and senators. 
 
 *' You are in the precincts of public life," said Waldershare ; 
 '*and if you ever enter it, which I think you will," he would 
 add thoughtfully, "it will be interesting for you to remember 
 that you have seen these characters, many of whom will then 
 have passed away, like the shades of a magic lantern," he 
 added, with something between a sigh and a smile. *' One of 
 my constitu tents sent me a homily this morning, the burden 
 of which was, I never thought of death. The idiot ! I never 
 think of anything else. It is my weakness. One should never 
 think of death. One should think of life. That is real piety." 
 
 This spring and summer were passed tranquilly by Endym- 
 ion, but not unprofitably. He never went to any place of 
 
^iV AUTUMN VISIT TO HOME. 119 
 
 public amusement, and, cherishing his sorrow, declined those 
 slight openings to social life which occasionally offered them- 
 selves even to him ; but he attended his debating club with 
 regularity, and, though silent, studied every subject which was 
 brought before it. It interested him to compare their sayings 
 and doings with those of the House of Commons, and he found 
 advantage in the critical comparison. Though not in what is 
 styled society, his mind did not rust from the want of intelli- 
 gent companions. The clear perception, accurate knowledge, 
 and unerring judgment of Trenchard, the fantastic cynicism 
 of St. Barbe, and all the stores of the exuberant and imagina- 
 tive Waldershare were brought to bear on a young and plastic 
 intelligence, gifted with a quick though not a too profound 
 sensibility which soon ripened into tact, and which, after due 
 discrimination, was tenacious of beneficial impressions. 
 
 In the autumn, Endymion returned home for a long visit 
 and a happy one. He found Nigel settled at Hurstley, and 
 almost domesticated at the hall ; his father more cheerful than 
 his sister's earlier letters had led him to suppose ; and she her- 
 self so delighted by the constant companionship of her brother 
 that she seemed to have resumed all her original pride of life. 
 
 Nearly two years' acquaintance, however limited, with the 
 world had already exercised a ripening influence over Endym- 
 ion. Nigel soon perceived this, though, with a native tact 
 which circumstances had developed, Endymion avoided obtrud- 
 ing his new conclusions upon his former instructor. But that 
 deep and eager spirit, unwilling ever to let a votary escape, and 
 absorbed intellectually by one vast idea, would not be baffled. 
 Nigel had not renounced the early view of Endymion taking 
 orders, and spoke of his London life as an incident which, with 
 his youth, he might in time only look upon as an episode in his 
 existence. 
 
 '' I trust I shall ever be a devoted son of the Church," said 
 Endymion; *^but I confess I feel no predisposition to take 
 orders, even if I had the opportunity, which probably I never 
 shall have. If I were to choose my career, it would be public 
 life. I am on the last step of the ladder, and I do not suppose 
 that I can ever be anything but a drudge. But even that 
 
120 ENDYMION. 
 
 would interest me. It brings one in contact with those who 
 are playing the great game. One at least fancies one com- 
 prehends something of the government of mankind. Mr. 
 Waldershare takes me often to the House of Commons, and, I 
 must say, I am passionately fond of it." 
 
 After Endymion's return to London that scene occurred 
 between Nigel and Myra, in the glade at Hurstley, which we 
 have noticed in the preceding chapter. In the evening of that 
 day Nigel did not pay his accustomed visit to the hall, and the 
 father and the daughter were alone. Then it was, notwith- 
 standing evident agitation, and even with some degree of 
 solemnity, that Mr. Ferrars broke to his daught r that there 
 was a subject on which he wished seriously to confer with 
 her. 
 
 " Is it about Nigel ? " she inquired, with calmness. 
 
 'at is about Nigel." 
 
 " I have seen him, and he has spoken to me." 
 
 '^ And what have you replied ? " 
 
 " What I fear will not be satisfactory to you, sir, but what 
 is irrevocable." 
 
 " Your union would give me life and hope," said Mr. Fei- 
 rars ; and then, as she remained silent, he continued after a 
 pause: "For its happiness there seems every security. He 
 is of good family, and with adequate means, and, I firmly be- 
 lieve, no inconsiderable future. His abilities are already recog- 
 nized ; his disposition is noble. As for his personal qualities, 
 you are a fitter judge than I am ; but, for my part, I never saw 
 a countenance that more became the beauty and nobility of his 
 character." 
 
 " I think him very good-looking," said Myra, *' and there 
 is no doubt he is clever, and he has shown himself, on more 
 than one occasion, amiable." 
 
 " Then what more can you require ? " said Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 '* I require nothing ; I do not wish to marry." 
 
 " But my daughter, my dearest daughter," said Mr. Fer- 
 rars, "bear with the anxiety of a parent who is at least devoted 
 to you. Our separation would be my last and severest sorrow, 
 and I have had many; but there is no necessity to consider 
 
"^ HEADSTRONG GIRLy 121 
 
 that case, for Nigel is content, is more than content, to live as 
 your husband under this roof." 
 
 '•'Sohe told-me." 
 
 ** And that removed one objection that you might naturally 
 feel?" 
 
 > '-I certainly should never leave 5^ou, sir," said Myra, "and 
 I told Nigel so ; but that contingency had nothing to do with 
 my decision. I declined his offer, because I have no wish to 
 marry." 
 
 "Women are born to be married," said Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 "And yet I believe most marriages are unhappy," said 
 Myra. 
 
 " Oh ! if your objection to marry Nigel arises from an ab- 
 stract objection to marriage itself," said Mr. Ferrars, "it is a 
 subject which we might talk over calmly, and perhaps remove 
 your prejudices." 
 
 "I have no prejudices against marriage," rejoined Myra. 
 " It is likely enough that I may marry some day, and probably 
 make an unhappy marriage ; but that is not the question be- 
 fore us. It is whether I should marry Nigel. That can not 
 be, my dear father, and he knows it. I have assured him so 
 in a manner which can not be mistaken." 
 
 "We are a doomed family !" exclaimed the unhajopy Mr. 
 Ferrars, clasping his hands. 
 
 "So I have long felt," said Myra. "I can bear our lot ; 
 but I want no strangers to be introduced to share its bitterness, 
 and soothe us with their sympathy." 
 
 "You speak like a girl," said Mr. Ferrars, "and a head- 
 strong girl, which you always have been. You know not what 
 you are talking about. It is a matter of life or death. Your 
 decorous marriage would have saved us from absolute ruin." 
 
 "Alone, I can meet absolute ruin," said Myra. "I have 
 long contemplated such a contingency, and am prepared for it. 
 My marriage with Nigel could hardly save you, sir, from such 
 a visitation, if it be impending. But I trust in that respect, 
 if in no other, you have used a little of the language of exag- 
 geration. I have never received, and I have never presumed 
 to seek, any knowledge of your affairs ; but I have assumed, 
 
 6 
 
123 ENDYMION. 
 
 that for your life, somehow or other, you would be permitted 
 to exist without disgrace. If I survive you, I have neither 
 care nor fear. " 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 In the following spring a vexatious incident occurred in 
 Warwick Street. The highly considered county member, who 
 was the yearly tenant of Mr. Rodney's first floor, and had been 
 always a valuable patron, suddenly died. An adjourned de- 
 bate, a tough beefsteak, a select committee still harder, and 
 an influenza caught at three o'clock in the morning in an im- 
 prudent but irresistible walk home with a confidential Lord of 
 the Treasury, had combined very sensibly to affect the income 
 of Mr. Rodney. At first he was sanguine that such a desirable 
 dwelling would soon find a suitable inhabitant, especially as 
 Mr. Waldershare assured him that he would mention the mat- 
 ter to all his friends. But time rolled on, and the rooms were 
 still vacant; and the fastidious Rodneys, who at first would 
 only listen to a yearly tenant, began to reduce their expecta-^ 
 tions. Matters had arrived at such a pass in May, that, for 
 the first time in their experience, they actually condescended 
 to hoist an announcement of furnished apartments. 
 
 In this state of affairs a cab rattled up to the house one 
 morning, out of which a young gentleman jumped briskly, 
 and, knocking at the door, asked, of the servant who opened 
 it, whether he might see the apartments. He was a young 
 man, apparently not more than one or two and twenty, of a 
 graceful figure, somewhat above the middle height, fair, with 
 a countenance not absolutely regular, but calm and high-bred. 
 His dress was in the best taste, but to a practiced eye had 
 something of a foreign cut, and he wore a slight mustache. 
 
 "The rooms will suit me," he said, "and I have no doubt 
 the price you ask for them is a just one ; " and he bowed with 
 high-bred courtesy to Sylvia, who was now in attendance on 
 him, and who stood with her pretty hands in the pretty pock- 
 ets of her pretty apron. 
 
COLONEL ALBERT. 123 
 
 "I am glad to hear that/' said Sylvia. "Y/e have never 
 let them before, except to a yearly tenant. " 
 
 ''And if we suit each other," said the gentleman, ''I should 
 have no great objection to become such." 
 
 ''In these matters," said Sylvia, after a little hesitation^ 
 "we give and receive references. Mr. Rodney is well known 
 in this neighborhood and in Westminster generally ; but I dare 
 say," she adroitly added, "he has many acquaintances known 
 to you, sir." 
 
 "Not very likely," replied the young gentleman ; "for 1 
 am a foreigner, and only arrived in England this morning ; " 
 though he spoke English without the slightest accent. 
 
 Sylvia looked a little perplexed ; but he continued : " It is 
 quite just that you should be assured to whom you are letting 
 your lodgings. The only reference I can give you is to my 
 banker, but he is almost too great a man for such matters. 
 Perhaps," he added, pulling out a case from his breast pocket, 
 and taking out of it a note, which he handed to Sylvia, "this 
 may assure you that your rent will be paid." 
 
 Sylvia took a rapid glance at the hundred-pound note, and 
 twisting it into her little pocket with apparent sangfroid, 
 though she held it with a tight grasp, murmured that it was 
 quite unnecessary, and then offered to give her new lodger an 
 acknowledgment of it. 
 
 "That is really unnecessary," he replied. " Your appear- 
 ance commands from me that entire confidence which on your 
 part you very properly refuse to a stranger and a foreigner, 
 like myself." 
 
 " What a charming young man ! " thought Sylvia, pressing 
 with emotion her hundred-pound note. 
 
 "Now," continued the young gentleman, "I will return 
 to the station to release my servant, who is a prisoner there 
 with my luggage. Be pleased to make him at home. I shall 
 myself not return probably till the evening ; and in the mean 
 time," he added, giving Sylvia his card, "'you will admit any- 
 thing that arrives here addressed to Colonel Albert." 
 
 The settlement of Colonel Albert in Warwick Street was an 
 event of no slight importance. It superseded for a time all 
 
124 ENDYMION. 
 
 other topics of conversation, and was discussed at length in the 
 evenings, especially with Mr. Vigo. Who was he ? And in 
 what service was he colonel ? Mr. Eodney, like a man of the 
 world, assumed that all necessary information would in time 
 be obtained from the colonel's servant ; but even men of the 
 world sometimes miscalculate. The servant, who was a Bel- 
 gian, had only been engaged by the colonel at Brussels a few 
 days before his departure for England, and absolutely knew 
 nothing of his master, except that he was a gentleman with 
 plenty of money and sufficient luggage. Sylvia, who was the 
 only person who had seen the colonel, was strongly in his favor. 
 Mr. Rodney looked doubtful, and avoided any dejfinite opinion 
 until he had had the advantage of an interview with his new 
 lodger. But this was not easy to obtain. Colonel Albert had 
 no wish to see the master of the house, and, if he ever had that 
 desire, his servant would accordingly communicate it in the 
 proper quarter. At present he was satisfied with all the ar- 
 rangements, and wished neither to make nor to receive re- 
 marks. The habits of the new lodger were somewhat of a 
 recluse. He was generally engaged in his rooms the whole 
 day, and seldom left them till the evening, and nobody, as yet, 
 had called upon him. Under these circumstances Imogene 
 was instructed to open the matter to Mr. Waldershare when 
 she presided over his breakfast table ; and that gentleman said 
 he would make inquiries about the colonel at the Travelers' 
 Club, where Waldershare passed a great deal of his time. '* If 
 he be anybody," said Mr. Waldershare, " he is sure in time to 
 be known there, for he will be introduced as a visitor." At 
 present, however, it turned out that " The Travelers' " knew 
 nothing of Colonel Albert ; and time went on, and Colonel 
 Albert was not introduced as a visitor there. 
 
 After a little while there was a change in the habits of the 
 colonel. One morning, about noon, a groom, extremely well 
 appointed, and having under his charge a couple of steeds of 
 breed and beauty, called at Warwick Street, and the colonel 
 rode out, and was long absent, and after that every day, and 
 generally at the same hour, mounted his horse. Mr. Rodney 
 was never wearied of catching a glimpse of his distinguished 
 
ENDTMION SUMMONED HOME. 125 
 
 lodger over the blinds of tlie ground-floor room, and of admir- 
 ing the colonel's commanding presence in his saddle, distin- 
 guished as his seat was alike by its grace and yigor. 
 
 In the course of a little time, another incident connected 
 with the colonel occurred which attracted notice and excited 
 interest. Toward the evening a brougham, marked, but qui- 
 etly, with a foreign coronet, stopped frequently at Mr. Eod- 
 ney's house, and a visitor to the colonel appeared in the form of 
 a middle-aged gentleman who never gave his name, and evaded, 
 it seemed with practiced dexterity, every effort, however adroit, 
 to obtain it. The valet was tried on this head also, and re- 
 plied with simplicity that he did not know the gentleman's 
 name, but he was always called the Baron. 
 
 In the middle of June a packet arrived one day by the 
 coach, from the rector of Hurstley, addressed to Endymion, 
 announcing his father's dangerous illness, and requesting him 
 instantly to repair home. Myra was too much occupied to 
 write even a line. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 It was strange that Myra did not write, were it only a line. 
 It was so unlike her. How often this occurred to Endymion 
 during his wearisome and anxious travel ! When the coach 
 reached Hurstley, he found Mr. Penruddock waiting for him. 
 Before he could inquire after his father, that gentleman said, 
 "Myra is at the rectory ; you are to come on there." 
 
 ''And my father—?" 
 
 ''Matters are critical," said Mr. Penruddock, as it were 
 avoiding a direct answer, and hastening his pace. 
 
 It was literally not a five minutes' walk from the village 
 inn to the rectory, and they walked in silence. The rector 
 took Endymion at once into his study ; for we can hardly call 
 it a library, though some shelves of books were there, and 
 many stuffed birds. 
 
 The rector closed the door with care, and looked distressed ; 
 and, beckoning to Endymion to be seated, he said, while still 
 
126 ENDYMIOK 
 
 standing and half turning away his head, "My dear boy, pre- 
 pare yourself for the worst." 
 
 "Ah ! he is gone then ! my dear, dear father ! " and En- 
 dymion burst into passionate tears, and leaned on the table> his 
 face hid in his hands. 
 
 The rector walked up and down the room with an agitated 
 countenance. He could not deny, it would seem, the infer- 
 ence of Endymion ; and yet he did not proffer those consola- 
 tions which might be urged, and which it became one in his 
 capacity peculiarly to urge. 
 
 "I must see Myra," said Endymion, eagerly, looking up 
 with a wild air and streaming eyes. 
 
 "Not yet," said the rector; "she is much disturbed. 
 Your poor father is no more ; it is too true ; but," and here 
 the rector hesitated, "he did not die happily." 
 
 " What da you mean ? " said Endymion. 
 
 " Your poor father had much to try him," said the rector. 
 " His life, since he was among us here, was a life, for him, of 
 adversity — ^perhaps of great adversity — ^yet he bore up against 
 it with a Christian spirit ; he never repined. There was much 
 that was noble and exalted in his character. But he never 
 overcame the loss of your dear mother. He was never himself 
 afterward. He was not always master of himself. I could 
 bear witness to that," said the rector, talking, as it were, to 
 himself. " Yes ; I could conscientiously give evidence to that 
 effect—" 
 
 "What effect ?" asked Endymion, with a painful scrutiny. 
 
 "I could show," said the rector, speaking slowly, and in a 
 low voice, " and others could show, that he was not master of 
 himself when he committed the rash act. " 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Penruddock !" exclaimed Endymion, starting 
 from his chair, and seizing the rector by his arm. " AVhat is 
 all this?" 
 
 "That a great sorrow has come upon you, and your sister, 
 and all of us," said Mr. Penruddock ; "and you, and she, and 
 all of us must bow before the Divine will in trembling, though 
 in hope. Your father's death was not natural." 
 
 Such was the end of William Pitt Ferrars, on whom nature. 
 
A SORROWFUL MEETING. 127 
 
 ojiportunity, and culture appeared to have showered every ad- 
 vantage. His abilities were considerable, his ambition greater. 
 Though intensely worldly, he was not devoid of affections. 
 I le found refuge in suicide, as many do, from want of imagina- 
 tion. The present was too hard for him, and his future was 
 Jy a chaotic nebula. 
 
 Endymion did not see his sister that evening. She was not 
 made aware of his arrival, and was alone with Mrs. Penruddock, 
 who never left her night or day. The rector took charge of 
 her brother, and had a sofa-bed made for him in the kind 
 man's room. He was never to be alone. Never the whole 
 night did poor Endymion close his eyes ; and he was almost as 
 much agitated about the impending interview with Myra, as 
 about the dark event of terror that had been disclosed to him. 
 
 Yet that dreaded interview must take place ; and, about 
 •noon, the rector told him that Myra was in the drawing-room 
 alone, and would receive him. He tottered as he crossed the 
 hall ; grief and physical exhaustion had unmanned him ; his 
 eyes were streaming with tears ; he paused for a moment with 
 his hand upon the door ; he dreaded the anguish of her coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 She advanced and embraced him with tenderness ; her face 
 was grave, but not a tear even glistened. 
 
 **I have been living in a tragedy for years," said Myra, in a 
 low, hollow voice ; "and the catastrophe has now arrived." 
 
 " Oh, my dear father ! " exclaimed Endymion ; and he 
 burst into a renewed paroxysm of grief. 
 
 "Yes ; he was dear to us, and we were dear to him," said 
 Myra ; "but the curtain has fallen. We have to exert our- 
 selves. Energy and self-control were never more necessary to 
 two human beings than to us. Here are his keys ; his papers 
 must be examined by no one but ourselves. There is a terrible 
 ceremony taking place, or impending. Wlien it is all over, 
 we must visit the hall at least once more." 
 
 The whole neighborhood was full of sorrow for the event, 
 and of sympathy for those bereft. It was universally agreed 
 that Mr. Ferrars had never recovered the death of his wife ; 
 had never been the same man after it ; had become distrait, 
 
128 ENDYMIOK 
 
 absent, wandering in his mind, and the victim of an invincible 
 melancholy. Several instances were given of his inability to 
 manage his affairs. The jury, with Farmer Thornberry for 
 foreman, hesitated not in giving a becoming verdict. In those 
 days information traveled slowly. There were no railroads 
 then, and no telegraphs, and not many clubs. A week elapsed 
 before the sad occurrence was chronicled in a provincial paper, 
 and another week before the report was reproduced in London, 
 and then in an obscure corner of the journal, and in small 
 print. Everything gets about at last, and the world began to 
 stare and talk ; but it passed unnoticed to the sufferers, except 
 by a letter from Zenobia, received at Hurstley after Myra had 
 departed from her kind friends. Zenobia was shocked, nay, 
 overwhelmed, by what she had heard ; wanted to know if she 
 could be of use ; offered to do anything ; begged Myra to come 
 and stay with her in St. James' Square ; and assured her that/ 
 if that were not convenient, when her mourning was over, Ze- 
 nobia would present her at court, just the same as if she were 
 her own daughter. 
 
 When the fatal keys were used, and the papers of Mr. Fcr- 
 rars examined, it turned out worse than even Myra, in her 
 darkest prescience, had anticipated. Her father had died ab- 
 solutely penniless. As executor of his father, the funds settled 
 on his wife had remained under his sole control, and they had 
 entirely disappeared. There was a letter addressed to Myra on 
 this subject. She read it with a pale face, said nothing, and, 
 without showing it to Endymion, destroyed it. There was to 
 be an immediate sale of their effects at the hall. It was calcu- 
 lated that the expenses of the funeral and all the country bills 
 might be defrayed by its proceeds. 
 
 "And there will be enough left for me," said M3rra. *'I 
 only want ten pounds ; for I have ascertained that there is no 
 part of England where ten pounds will not take me." 
 
 Endymion sighed and nearly wept when she said these 
 things. " No," he would add ; " we must never part." 
 
 ** That would insure our common ruin," said Myra. " No ; 
 I will never embarrass you with a sister. You can only just 
 subsist ; for you could not well live in a garret, except at the 
 
THE NEUGHATEL8, 129 
 
 Rodneys'. I see my way," said Myra ; *' I have long meditated 
 over this — I can draw, I can sing, I can speak many tongues ; 
 I ought to be able to get food and clothing ; I may get some- 
 thing more. And I shall always be content ; for I shall always 
 be thinking of you. However humble even my lot, if my will 
 is concentrated on one purpose, it must ultimately effect it. 
 That is my creed," she said, ^'^and I hold it fervently. I will 
 stay with these dear people for a little while. They are not 
 exactly the family on which I ought to trespass. But never 
 mind. You will be a great man some day, Endymion, and 
 you will remember the good Penruddocks." 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 O2TE of the most remarkable families that have ever flour- 
 ished in England were the Neuchatels. Their founder was 
 a Swiss, who had established a banking house of high repute 
 in England in the latter part of the eighteenth century, and, 
 irrespective of a powerful domestic connection, had in time 
 pretty well engrossed the largest and best portion of foreign 
 banking business. When the great French Revolution occurred, 
 all the emigrants deposited their jewels and their treasure with 
 the Neuchatels. As the disturbances spread, their example was 
 followed by the alarmed proprietors and capitalists of the rest 
 of Europe ; and, independently of their own considerable means, 
 the Neuchatels thus had the command for a quarter of a cen- 
 tury, more or less, of adventitious millions. They were scru- 
 pulous and faithful stewards ; but they were doubtless repaid 
 for their vigilance, their anxiety, and often their risk, by the 
 opportunities which these rare resources permitted them to 
 enjoy. One of the Neuchatels was a favorite of Mr. Pitt, and 
 assisted the great statesman in his vast financial arrangements. 
 This Neuchatel was a man of large capacity, and thoroughly 
 understood his period. The minister wished to introduce him 
 to public life, would have opened Parliament to him, and no 
 doubt have showered on him honors and titles. But Neuchatel 
 
130 ENBYMIOK. 
 
 declined these oVertures. He was one of those strong minds 
 who will concentrate their energies on one object ; without 
 personal vanity, but with a deep-seated pride in the future. 
 He was always preparing for his posterity. Governed by this 
 passion, although he himself would have been content to live 
 for ever in Bishopsgate Street, where he was born, he had be* 
 come possessed of a vast principality, and which, strange to 
 say, with every advantage of splendor and natural beauty, was 
 not an hour's drive from Whitechapel. 
 
 Hainault House had been raised by a British peer in tlie 
 days when nobbs were fond of building Palladian palaces. It 
 was a chief work of Sir William Chambers, and in its style, its, 
 beauty, and almost in its dimensions, was a rival of Stowe 
 or Wanstead. It stood in a deer park, and was surrounded by 
 a royal forest. The family that had raised it wore out in the 
 earlier part of this century. It was supposed that the place 
 must be destroyed and dismantled. It was too vast for a citi- 
 zen, and the locality was no longer sufficiently refined for a 
 conscript father. In this dilemma, Neuchatel stepped in and 
 purchased the whole affair — palace, and park, and deer, and 
 pictures, and halls, and galleries of statue and bust, and furni- 
 ture, and even wines, and all the farms that remained, and all 
 the seigneurial rights in the royal forest. But he never lived 
 there. Though he spared nothing in the maintenance and the 
 improvement of the domain, except on a Sunday he never 
 visited it, and was never known to sleep under its roof. *' It 
 will be ready for those who come after me," he would remark, 
 with a modest smile. 
 
 Those who came after him were two sons, between whom 
 his millions were divided ; and Adrian, the eldest, in addition 
 to his share, was made the lord of Hainault. -Adrian had in- 
 herited something more, and something more precious, than 
 his father's treasure — a not inferior capacity, united, in his 
 case, with much culture, and with a worldly ambition to which 
 his father was a stranger. So long as that father lived, Adrian 
 had been extremely circumspect. He seemed only devoted to 
 business, and to model his conduct on that of his eminent sire. 
 That father who had recognized with pride and satisfaction 
 
ADRIAN- NEVCRATEL, l31 
 
 his capacity, and who was witliout jealousy, had initiated his 
 son during his lifetime in all the secrets of his wondrous craft, 
 and had intrusted him with a leading part in their affairs. 
 Adrian had waited in Downing Street on Lord Liverpool, as 
 his father years before had waited on Mr. Pitt. 
 
 The elder Neuchatel departed this life a little before the 
 second French Eevolution of 1830, which had been so fatal to 
 Mr. Ferrars. Adrian, who had never committed himself in 
 politics, further than sitting a short time for a reputed Tory 
 borough for which he paid a rent of a thousand a year to the 
 proprietor, but who was known to have been nurtured in the 
 school of Pitt and Wellington, astonished the world by voting 
 for Lord Grey's Reform Bill, and announcing himself as a 
 Liberal. This was a large fish for the new Liberal Treasury 
 to capture ; their triumph was great, and they determined to 
 show that they appreciated the power and the influence of their 
 new ally. At the dissolution of 1831, Adrian Neuchatel was 
 a candidate for a popular constituency, and was elected at the 
 head of the poll. His brother, Melchior, was also returned, 
 and a nephew. The Liberals were alarmed by a subscription 
 of fabulous dimensions said to have been collected by the To- 
 ries to influence the General Election ; and the undoubted con- 
 tribution of a noble duke was particularly mentioned, which 
 alone appalled the heart of Brooks'. The matter was put be- 
 fore ]N"euchatel, as he entered the club, to which he had been 
 recently elected with acclamation. *^ So you are a little fright- 
 ened," he said, with a peculiarly witching smile which he had, 
 half mockery and half good nature ; as much as to say, " I 
 will do what you wish, but I see through you and everybody 
 else." *^So you are a little frightened. Well ; we City men 
 must see what we can do against the dukes. You may put me 
 down for double his amount." 
 
 Adrian purchased a very fine mansion in Portland Place, 
 and took up his residence formally at Hainault. He delighted 
 in the place, and to dwell there in a manner becoming the 
 scene had always been one of his dreams. Now he lived there 
 with unbounded expenditure. He was passionately fond of 
 horses, and even in his father's lifetime had run some at New- 
 
132 ENDYMIOK 
 
 market in another name. The stahles at Hainault had been 
 modeled on those at Chantilly, and were almost as splendid a 
 pile as the mansion itself. They were soon full, and of first- 
 rate animals in their different ways. "With his choice teams 
 Adrian could reach Bishopsgate from Hainault, particularly ii 
 there were no stoppages in Whitechapel, in much under an 
 hour. 
 
 If he had fifty persons in his stables, there were certainly as 
 many in his park and gardens. These latter were most elab- 
 orate. It seemed there was nothing that Hainault could not 
 produce : all the fruits and flowers of the tropics. The con- 
 servatories and forcing-houses looked, in the distance, like a 
 city of glass. But, after all, the portion of this immense 
 establishment which was most renowned, and perhaps, on the 
 whole, best appreciated, was the establishment of the kitchen. 
 The chief was the greatest celebrity of Europe ; and he had no 
 limit to his staff, which he had selected with the utmost scru- 
 tiny, maintained with becoming spirit, and winnowed with 
 unceasing vigilance. Every day at Hainault was a banquet. 
 What delighted Adrian was to bring down without notice a troop 
 of friends, conscious they would be received as well as if there 
 had been a preparation of weeks. Sometimes it was a body 
 from the Stock Exchange, sometimes a host from the House of 
 Commons, sometimes a board of directors with whom he had 
 been transacting business in the morning. It delighted Adrian 
 to see them quaffing his burgundy, and stuffing down his truf- 
 fles, and his choice pies from Strasbourg, and all the delicate 
 dishes which many of them looked at with wonder, and tasted 
 with timidity. And then he would, with his particular smile, 
 say to a brother bank-director whose mouth was full, and who 
 could only answer him with his eyes, "Business gives one an 
 appetite ; eh, Mr. Trodgits ? " 
 
 Sunday was always a great day at Hainault. The Eoyal 
 and the Stock Exchanges were both of them always fully rep- 
 resented ; and then they often had an opportunity, which they 
 highly appreciated, of seeing and conferring with some public 
 characters, M. P.s of note or promise, and occasionally a secre- 
 tary of the treasury, or a privy councilor. " Turtle makes all 
 
MBS. NEUCEATEL. 133 
 
 men equal," Adrian would observe. "Our friend Trodgits 
 seemed a little embarrassed at first, wlien I introduced him to 
 the Eight Honorable ; but when they sat next each other at 
 dinner, they soon got on very well." 
 
 On Sunday the guests walked about and amused themselves. 
 1^0 one was allowed to ride or drive ; Mrs. Neuchatel did not 
 like riding and driving on Sundays. **I see no harm in it," 
 said Adrian, " but I like women to have their way about reli- 
 gion. And you may go to the stables and see the horses, and 
 that might take up the morning. And then there are the 
 houses ; they will amuse you. For my part, I am for a stroll 
 in the forest ; " and then he would lead his companions, after 
 a delightful ramble, to some spot of agrestic charm, and, look- 
 ing at it with delight, would say, " Pretty ; is not it? But 
 then they say this place is not fashionable. It will do, I think, 
 for us City men." 
 
 Adrian had married, when very young, a lady selected by 
 his father. The selection seemed a good one. She was the 
 daughter of a most eminent banker, and had herself, though 
 that was of slight importance, a large portion. She was a 
 woman of abilities, highly cultivated. Nothing had ever been 
 spared that she should possess every possible accomplishment, 
 and acquire every information and grace that it was desirable 
 to attain. She was a linguist, a fine musician, no mean artist ; 
 and she threw out, if she willed it, the treasures of her well- 
 stored and not unimaginative mind with ease and sometimes 
 eloquence. Her person, without being absolutely beautiful, 
 was interesting. There was even a degree of fascination in her 
 brown velvet eyes. And yet Mrs. Neuchatel was jjot a con- 
 tented spirit ; and though she appreciated the great qualities 
 of her husband, and viewed him even with reverence as well as 
 affection, she scarcely contributed to his happiness as much as 
 became her. And for this reason. Whether it were the result 
 of physical organization, or whether it were the satiety which 
 was the consequence of having been born, and bred, and lived 
 for ever, in a society in which wealth was the prime object of 
 existence, and practically the test of excellence, Mrs. Neucha- 
 tcl had imbibed not merely a contempt for money, but abso- 
 
VS4: ENDYMIOK 
 
 lutely a hatred of it. The prosperity of her house depressed 
 her. The stables with their fifty grooms, and the grounds with 
 their fifty gardeners, and the daily visit of the head cook to 
 pass the bill of fare, were incidents and circumstances that 
 made her melancholy. She looked upon the Stock Exchange 
 coming down to dinner as she would on an invasion of the 
 Visigoths, and endured the stiff observations or the cumbrous 
 liveliness of the merchants and bank directors with gloomy 
 grace. Something less material might be anticipated from the 
 members of Parliament. But whether they thought it would 
 please the genius of the place, or whether Adrian selected his 
 friends from those who sympathized with his pursuits, the 
 members of Parliament seemed wonderfully to accord with the 
 general tone of the conversation, or varied it only by indulg- 
 ing in technical talk of their own. Sometimes she would make 
 a desperate effort to change the elements of their society ; 
 something in this way : *'I see M. Arago and Ml Mignet have 
 arrived here, Adrian. Do not you think we ought to invite 
 them here ? And then you might ask Mr. Macaulay to meet 
 them. You said you wished to ask Mr. Macaulay." 
 
 In one respect the alliance between Adrian and his wife was 
 not an unfortunate one. A woman, and a woman of abilities, 
 fastidious, and inclined to be querulous, might safely be counted 
 on as, in general, insuring for both parties in their . union an 
 unsatisfactory and unhappy life. But Adrian, though kind, 
 generous, and indulgent, was so absorbed by his own great 
 affairs, was a man at the same time of so serene a temper and 
 so supreme a will, that the over-refined phantasies of his wife 
 produced not the slightest effect on the course of his life. 
 Adrian Neuchatel was what very few people are — master in 
 his own house. With a rich varnish of graciousness and favor, 
 he never swerved from his purpose ; and, though willing to 
 effect all things by smiles and sweet temper, he had none of 
 that morbid sensibility which allows some men to fret over a 
 phrase, to be tortured by a sigh, or to be subdued by a tear. 
 
 There had been bom of this marriage only one child, the 
 greatest heiress in England. She had been christened, after 
 her father, Adriaka. She was now about seventeen; and. 
 
A xV AJD VERTISEMENT, 135 
 
 had she not been endowed with the finest disposition and the 
 sweetest temper in the world, she must have been spoiled, for 
 both her parents idolized her. To see her every day was for 
 Adrian a reward for all his labors, and in the midst of his 
 greatest affairs he would always snatch a moment to think how 
 he could contribute to her pleasure or her huppiness. All that 
 was rare and delightful and beautiful in the 'world was at her 
 command. There was no limit to the gratification of her wishes. 
 But, alas ! this favored maiden wished for nothing. Her books 
 interested her, and a beautiful nature ; but she liked to be alone, 
 or with her mothel*. She was impressed with the horrible and 
 humiliating conviction that she was courted and admired only 
 for her wealth. 
 
 "What my daughter requires," said Adrian, as he mused 
 over these domestic contrarieties, " is a companion of her own 
 age. Her mother is the very worst constant companion she 
 could have. She requires somebody with charm, and yet of a 
 commanding mind ; with youthful sympathy, and yet influenc- 
 ing her in the right way. It must be a person of birth and 
 breeding and complete self-respect. I do not want to have any 
 parasites in my house, or affected fine ladies. That would do 
 no good. What I do want is a thing very difficult to procure. 
 And yet they say ever}i:hing is to be obtained. At least, I have 
 always thought so, and found it so. I have the greatest opin- 
 ion of an advertisement in the ' Times.' I got some of my best 
 clerks by advertisements in the ^ Times.' If I had consulted 
 friends, there would have been no end of jobbing for such 
 patronage. One could not trust, in such matters, one's own 
 brother. I will draw up an advertisement and insert it in the 
 ^ Times,' and have the references to my counting-house. I will 
 think over the wording as I drive to town." This was the 
 wording : 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 A BANKER and his Wife require a Companion for their only child, 
 a young lady whose accomplishments and acquirements are already 
 considerable. The friend that they would wish for her must be of about 
 the same age as herself, and in every other respect their lots will be the 
 same. The person thus desired will be received and treated as a daugh- 
 
136 ENDYMIOK 
 
 ter of the house, will be allowed her own suite of apartments, her own 
 servants and equipage. She must be a person of birth, breeding, and 
 entire self-respect; with a mind and experience capable of directing 
 conduct, and with manners which will engage sympathy. —Apply to 
 H. H., 45 Bishopsgate Street Within. 
 
 This advertisement met the eye of Myra at Hurstley Eec- 
 tory about a month after her father's death, and she resolved 
 to answer it. Her reply pleased Mr. Neuchatel. He selected 
 it out of hundreds, and placed himself in communication with 
 Mr. Penruddock. The result was, that Miss Ferrars was to 
 pay a visit to the Neuchatels ; and if, on experience, they liked 
 each other, the engagement was to take place. 
 
 In the mean time the good rector of Hurstley arrived on the 
 previous evening with his precious charge at Hainault House ; 
 and was rewarded for his kind exertions, not only by the pros- 
 pect of assisting Myra, but by some present experience of a 
 splendid and unusual scene. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 "' What do you think of her, mamma ? " said Adriana, wdth 
 glistening eyes, as she ran into Mrs. Neuchatel's dressing-room 
 for a moment before dinner. 
 
 *' I think her manners are perfect," replied Mrs. Neuchatel ; 
 " and as there can be no doubt, after all we have heard, of her 
 principles, I think we are most fortunate. But what do you 
 think of her, Adriana ? For, after all, that is the main ques- 
 tion?" 
 
 *'I think she is divine," said Adriana ; "but I fear she has 
 no heart." 
 
 "And why ? Surely it is early to decide on such a matter 
 as that!" 
 
 "When I took her to her room," said Adriana, "I suppose 
 I was nervous ; but I burst into tears, and threw my arms round 
 her neck and embraced her, but she did not respond. She 
 
TABLE TALK. 137 
 
 touched my forehead with her lips, and withdrew from my 
 embrace." 
 
 *^She wished, perhaps, to teach you to control your emo- 
 tions," said Mrs. Neuchatel. ^^ You have known her only an 
 hour, and you could not have done more to your own mother." 
 
 It had been arranged that there should be no visitors to- 
 day ; only a nephew and a foreign consul-general, just to 
 break the formality of the meeting. Mr. Neuchatel placed 
 Myra next to himself at the round table, and treated her with 
 marked consideration. — cordial but courteous, and easy, with a 
 certain degree of deference. His wife, who piqued herself on 
 her perception of character, threw her brown yelvet eyes on 
 her neighbor, Mr. Penruddock, and cross-examined him in 
 mystical whispers. She soon recognized his loye of nature ; 
 and this allowed her to dissert on the subject, at once sublime 
 and inexhaustible, with copiousness worthy of the theme. 
 When she found he was an entomologist, and that it was not 
 so much mountains as insects which interested him, she shifted 
 her ground, but treated it with equal felicity. Strange, but 
 nature is never so powerful as in insect life. The white ant 
 can destroy fleets and cities, and the locusts erase a province. 
 And then, how beneficent they are ! Man would find it diffi- 
 cult to rival their exploits : the bee, that gives us honey ; the 
 worm, that gives us silk ; the cochineal, that supplies our 
 manufactures with their most brilliant dye. 
 
 Mr. Penruddock did not seem to know much about manu- 
 factures, but always recommended his cottagers to keep bees. 
 
 "The lime-tree abounds in our village, and there is nothing 
 the bees love more than its blossoms." 
 
 This direct reference to his village led Mrs. Keuchatel to 
 an inquiry as to the state of the poor about Hurstley, and she 
 made the inquiry in a tone of commiseration. 
 
 ^'Oh ! we do pretty well," said Mr. Penruddock. 
 
 '^But how can a family live on ten or twelve shillings a 
 week ? " murmured Mrs. Neuchatel. 
 
 " There it is," said Mr. Penruddock. " A family has more 
 tlian that. With a family the income proportionately in- 
 
138 ENDYMIOK 
 
 Mrs. Neuchatel sighed. "I must say," she said, *'I can 
 not help feeling there is something wrong in our present ar- 
 rangements. When I sit down to dinner every day, with all 
 these dishes, and remember that there are millions who never 
 taste meat, I can not resist the conviction that it would be 
 better if there were some equal division, and all should have, 
 if not much, at least something." 
 
 '* Nonsense, Emily ! " said Mr. Neuchatel, who had an organ 
 like Fine-ear, and could catch, when necessary, his wife's most 
 mystical revelations. " My wife, Mr. Penruddock, is a regular 
 Communist. I hope you are not," he added, with a smile, 
 turning to Myra. 
 
 "I think life Avould be very insipid," replied Myra, "if all 
 our lots were the same." 
 
 When the ladies withdrew, Adriana and Myra walked out 
 together hand-in-hand. Mr. Neuchatel rose and sat next to 
 Mr. Penruddock, and began to talk politics. His reverend 
 guest could not conceal his alarm about the position of the 
 Church, and spoke of Lord John Kussell's appropriation clause 
 with well-bred horror. 
 
 "Well, I do not think there is much to be afraid of," said 
 Mr. Neuchatel. " This is a liberal age, and you can not go 
 against it. The people must be educated, and where are the 
 funds to come from ? We must all do something, and the 
 Church must contribute its share. You know I am a Liberal, 
 but I am not for any rash courses. I am not at all sorry that 
 Sir Kobert Peel gained so much at the last general election. I 
 like parties to be balanced. I am quite content with affairs. 
 My friends, the Liberals, are in office, and, being there, they 
 can do very little. That is the state of things, is it not, Mel- 
 chior ? " he added, with a smile to his nephew, who was an 
 M. P. "A balanced state of parties, and the house of Neuchatel 
 with three votes — that will do. AYe poor city-men get a little 
 attention paid to us now, but before the dissolution three votes 
 went for nothing. Now, shall we go and ask my daughter to 
 give us a song ? " 
 
 Mrs. Neuchatel accompanied her daughter on the piano, 
 and after a time not merely on the instrument. The organ 
 
MUTUAL SATISFACTION. 139 
 
 of both v/as fine and riclily cultivated. It was choice cham- 
 ber miisic. Mr. Neuchatel seated himself by Myra. His tone 
 was more than kind, and his manner gentle. ' ' It is a little 
 awkward the first day," he said, "among strangers, but that 
 will wear off. You must bring your mind to feel that this is 
 your home, and we shall all of us do everything in our power 
 to convince you of it. Mr. Penruddock mentioned to" me your 
 wish, under present circumstances, to enter as little as possible 
 into society, and this is a very social home. Your feeling is 
 natural, and you will be in this matter entirely your own mis- 
 tress. We shall always be glad to see you, but if you are not 
 present we shall know and respect the cause. For my own 
 part, I am one of those who would rather cherish affection 
 than indulge grief, but every one must follow their mood. I 
 hear you have a brother, to whom you are much attached ; a 
 twin, too, and they tell me, strongly resembling you. He is in 
 a public office, I believe ? Now, understand this ; your brother 
 can come here whenever he likes without any further invita- 
 tion. Ask him whenever you please. ' We shall always be glad 
 to see him. No sort of notice is necessary. This is not a very 
 small house, and we can always manage to find a bed and a 
 cutlet for a friend." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 NoTHiifG could be more successful than the connection 
 formed between the Neuchatel family and Myra Ferrars. Both 
 parties to the compact were alike satisfied. Myra had "got 
 out of that hole " which she always hated, and though the new 
 life she had entered was not exactly the one she had mused 
 over, and which was founded on the tradition of her early ex- 
 perience, it was a life of energy and excitement, of splendor 
 and power, with a total absence of petty vexations and miser- 
 ies, affording neither time nor cause for the wearing chagrin 
 of a monotonous and mediocre existence. But the crowning 
 joy of her emancipation was the prospect it offered of frequent 
 enjoyment of the society of her brother. 
 
140 ENDYMION. 
 
 With regard to the Neuehatels, they found in Myra every- 
 thing they could desire. Mrs. Neuchatel was delighted with a 
 companion who was not the daughter of a banker, and whose 
 schooled intellect not only comprehended all her doctrines, 
 however abstruse or fanciful, but who did not hesitate, if ne- 
 cessary, to controvert or even confute them. As for Adriana, 
 she literally idolized a friend whose proud spirit and clear intel- 
 ligence were calculated to exercise a strong but salutary influ- 
 ence over her timid and sensitive nature. As for the great 
 banker himself, who really had that faculty of reading charac- 
 ter which his wife flattered herself she possessed, he had made 
 up his mind about Myra from the first, both from her corre- 
 spondence and her conversation. *^She has more common 
 sense than any woman I ever knew, and more," he would add, 
 "than most men. If she were not so handsome, people would 
 find it out; but they can not understand that so beautiful a 
 woman can have a headpiece, that, I really believe, could man- 
 age the affairs in Bishopsgate Street." 
 
 In the mean time life at Hainault resumed its usual course ; 
 streams of guests, of all parties, colors, and classes, and eveix 
 nations. Sometimes Mr. Neuchatel would say, " I really must 
 have a quiet day that Miss Ferrars may dine with us, and she 
 shall ask her brother. How glad I shall be when she goes into 
 half -mourning ; I scarcely catch a glimpse of her." And all 
 this time his wife and daughter did nothing but quote her, 
 which was still more irritating, for, as he would say, half- 
 grumbling and half -smiling, "If it had not been for me, she 
 would not have been here." 
 
 At first Adriana would not dine at table without Myra, and 
 insisted on sharing her imprisonment. " It does not look like 
 a cell," said Myra, surveying not without complacency her 
 beautiful little chamber beautifully lit, with its silken hang- 
 ings and carved ceiling and bright with books and pictures ; 
 "besides, there is no reason why you should be a prisoner. 
 You have not lost a father, and I hope never will. " 
 
 "Amen ! " said Adriana. " That would indeed be the un- 
 haj)piest day of my life." 
 
 " You can not be in society too much in the latter part of the 
 
A SOCIAL RECLUSE. 141 
 
 day," said Myra. " The mornings should be sacred to ourselves, 
 but for the rest of the hours people are to see and to be seen, 
 and," she added, '^to like and to be liked." Adriana shook 
 her head ; *^I do not wish any one to like me but you." 
 
 '^I am sure I shall always like you, and love you," said 
 Myra, "but I am equally sure that a great many other people 
 will do the same." 
 
 "It will not be myself that they like or love," said Adriana 
 with a sigh. 
 
 "Now, spare me that vein, dear Adriana; you know I do 
 not like it. It is not agreeable, and I do not think it is true. 
 I believe that women are loved much more for themselves 
 than is supposed. Besides, a woman should be content if she 
 is loved ; that is the point ; and she is not to inquire how far 
 the accidents of life have contributed to the result. Why 
 should you not be loved for yourself ? You have an interest- 
 ing appearance. I think you very pretty. You have choice 
 accomplishments and agreeable conversation and the sweetest 
 temper in the world. You want a little self-conceit, my dear. 
 If I were you and admired I should never think of my fortune." 
 
 " If you were the greatest heiress in the world, Myra, and 
 were married, nobody would suppose for a moment that it was 
 for your fortune." 
 
 "Go down to dinner and smile upon everybody, and tell 
 me about your conquests to-morrow. And say to your dear 
 papa, that as he is so kind as to wish to see me, I will join 
 them after dinner." 
 
 And so, for the first two months, she occasionally appeared 
 in the evening, especially when there was no formal party. 
 Endymion came and visited her every Sunday, but he was also 
 a social recluse, and though he had been presented to Mrs. Neu- 
 chatel and her daughter, and had been most cordially received 
 by them, it was some considerable time before he made the ac- 
 quaintance of the great banker. 
 
 About September Myra may be said to have formally joined 
 the circle at Hainault. Three months had elapsed since the 
 terrible event, and she felt, irrespective of other considerations, 
 her position hardly justified her, notwithstanding all the in- 
 
142 EN DY MI ON. 
 
 dulgent kindness of the family, in continuing a course of life 
 which she was conscious to them was sometimes an inconvenience 
 and always a disappointment. It was impossible to deny that 
 she was interested and amused by the world which she now 
 witnessed — so energetic, so restless, so various ; so full of ur- 
 gent and pressing life ; never thinking of the past and quite 
 heedless of the future, but worshiping an almighty present that 
 sometimes seemed to roll on like the car of Juggernaut. She 
 was much diverted by the gentlemen of the Stock Exchange, 
 so acute, so audacious, and . differing so much from the mer- 
 chants in the style even of their dress, and in the ease, per- 
 haps the too great facility, of their bearing. They called each 
 other by their Christian names, and there were allusions to 
 practical jokes which intimated a life something between a 
 public school and a garrison. On more solemn days there were 
 diplomatists and men in political office ; sometimes great mu- 
 sical artists, and occasionally a French actor. But the dinners 
 were always the same ; dishes worthy of the great days of the 
 Bourbons, and wines of rarity and price, which could not ruin 
 Neuchatel, for in many instances the vineyards belonged to 
 himself. 
 
 One morning at breakfast, when he rarely encountered them, 
 but it was a holiday in the city, Mr. Neuchatel said, " There 
 are a few gentlemen coming to dine here to-day whom you 
 know, with one exception. He is a young man, a very nice 
 young fellow. I have seen a good deal of him of late on busi- 
 ness in the city, and have taken a fancy to him. He is a for- 
 eigner, but he was partly educated in this country and speaks 
 English as well as any of us." 
 
 **Then I suppose he is not a Frenchman," said Mrs. Neu- 
 chatel, "for they never speak English." 
 
 "I shall not say what he is. You must all find out; I 
 dare say Miss Ferrars will discover him ; but, remember, you 
 must all of you pay him great attention, for he is not a com- 
 mon person, I can assure you." 
 
 "You are mysterious, Adrian," said his wife, "and quite 
 pique our curiosity." 
 
 " Well, I wish somebody would pique mine," said the bank- 
 
COLONEL ALBERT ARRIVES. 143 
 
 er. ** These holidays in the city are terrible things. I think 
 I will go after breakfast and look at the new house, and I dare 
 say Miss Ferrars will be kind enough to be my companion." 
 
 Several of the visitors, fortunately for the banker whose 
 time hung rather heavily on his hands, arrived an hour or so 
 before dinner, that they might air themselves in the famous 
 gardens and see some of the new plants. But the guest whom 
 he most wished to greet, and whom the ladies were most curi- 
 ous to welcome, did not arrive. They had all entered the 
 house and the critical moment was at hand, when just as din- 
 ner was about to be announced, the servants ushered in a 
 young man of distinguished appearance, and the banker ex- 
 claimed, ^^You have arrived just in time to take Mrs. ISTeu- 
 chatel in to dinner," and he presented to her — Colokel Al^ 
 
 BEET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 The ladies were much interested by Colonel Albert. Mrs. 
 Neuchatel exercised on him all the unrivaled arts by which she 
 so unmistakably discovered character. She threw on him her 
 brown velvet eyes with a subdued yet piercing beam, which 
 would penetrate his most secret and even undeveloped intelli- 
 gence. She asked questions in a hushed mystical voice, and 
 as the colonel was rather silent and somewhat short in his 
 replies, though ever expressed in a voice of sensibility and with 
 refined deference of manner, Mrs. Neuchatel opened her own 
 peculiar views on a variety of subjects of august interest, such 
 as education, high art, the influence of woman in society, the 
 formation of character, and the distribution of wealth, on all 
 of which this highly gifted lady was always in the habit of 
 informing her audience by way of accompaniment, that she 
 was conscious that the views she entertained were peculiar. 
 The views of Mrs. Neuchatel were peculiar, and therefore not 
 always, or even easily, comprehended. That indeed she felt 
 was rather her fate in life, but a superior intelligence like hers 
 has a degree of sublimated self-respect which defies destiny. 
 
144 ENDYMION. 
 
 When she was alone with the ladies, the bulletin of Mrs. 
 Neuchatel was not so copious as had been expected. She 
 announced that Colonel Albert was sentimental, and she sus- 
 pected ja poet. But for the rest she had discovered nothing, 
 not even his nationality. She had tried him both in French 
 and German, but he persisted in talking English, although he 
 spoke of himself as a foreigner. After dinner he conversed 
 chiefly with the men, particularly with the Governor of the 
 Bank, who seemed to interest him much, and a director of one 
 of the dock companies, who offered to show him over their 
 establishment, an offer which Colonel Albert eagerly accepted. 
 Then, as if he remembered that homage was due at such a 
 moment to the fairer sex, he went and seated himself by Adri- 
 ana, and was playful and agreeable, though when she was cross- 
 examined afterward by her friends as to the character of his 
 conversation, she really could not recall anything particular 
 except that he was fond of horses, and said that he should like 
 very much to take a ride with her. Just before he took his 
 departure. Colonel Albert addressed Myra, and in a rather 
 strange manner. He said, "I have been puzzling myself all 
 dinner, but I can not help feeling that we have met before." 
 
 Myra shook her head and said, "I think that is impos- 
 sible." 
 
 '^ Well," said the Colonel with a look a little perplexed and 
 not altogether satisfied, " I suppose then it was a dream. May 
 dreams so delightful," and he bowed, "never be wanting." 
 
 "So you think he is a poet, Emily," said Mr. Neuchatel 
 when they had all gone. "We have got a good many of his 
 papers in Bishopsgate Street, but I have not met with any 
 verses in them yet." 
 
 The visit of Colonel Albert was soon repeated, and he be- 
 came a rather frequent guest at Hainault. It was evident that 
 he was a favorite with Mr. Neuchatel. " He knows very few 
 people," he would say, "and I wish him to make some friends. 
 Poor young fellow ! he has had rather a hard life of it, and 
 seen some service for such a youth. He is a perfect gentleman, 
 and if he be a poet, Emily, that is all in your way. You like ' 
 literary people, and are always begging that I should ask them. 
 
''ONE OF OUR GREAT WITSy 145 
 
 Well, next Saturday you will have a sort of a lion — one of the 
 principal writers in 'Scaramouch.' He is going to Paris as 
 the foreign correspondent of the 'Chuck-Farthing' with a 
 thousand a year, and one of my friends in the Stock Exchange, 
 who is his great ally, asked me to give him some letters. So 
 he came to Bishopsgate Street — they all come to Bishopsgate 
 Street — and I asked him to dine here on Saturday. By the 
 by, Miss Ferrars, ask your brother to come on the same day 
 and stay with us till Monday. I will take him up to town 
 with me quite in time for his office. " 
 
 This was the first time that Endymion had remained at 
 Hainault. He looked forward to the visit with anticipations 
 of great pleasure. Hainault, and all the people there, and 
 everything about it delighted him, and most of all the happi- 
 ness of his sister and the consideration, and generosity, and 
 delicate affection with which she was treated. One morning, 
 to his astonishment, Myra had insisted upon his accepting 
 from her no inconsiderable sum of money. " It is no part of 
 my salary," she said, when he talked of her necessities. " Mr. 
 Neuchatel said he gave it to me for outfit and to buy gloves. 
 But being in mourning I want to buy nothing, and you, dear 
 darling, must have many wants. Besides, Mrs. ISTeuchatel has 
 made me so many presents that I really do not think that I 
 shall ever want to buy anything again." 
 
 It was rather a grand party at Hainault, such as Endymion 
 had little experience of. There was a cabinet minister and his 
 wife, not only an ambassador, but an ambassadress who had 
 been asked to meet them, a nephew ]N"euchatel, the M. P. with 
 a pretty young wife, and several apparently single gentlemen of 
 note and position. Endymion was nervous when he entered, 
 and more so because Myra was not in the room. But his trepi- 
 dation was absorbed in his amazement when in the distance he 
 observed St. Barbe, with a very stiff white cravat, and his 
 hair brushed into unnatural order, and his whole demeanor 
 forming a singular contrast to the rollicking cynicism of Joe's 
 and the office. 
 
 Mr. Neuchatel presented St. Barbe to the lady of the man- 
 sion. "Here is one of our great wits," said the banker, '*and 
 
 J Y 
 
14:6 ENDYMION. 
 
 he is going to Paris which is the capital of wits." The critical 
 moment prevented prolonged conversation, but the lady of the 
 mansion did contrive to convey to St. Barbe her admiring 
 familiarity with some of his effusions, and threw out a phrase 
 which proved how finely she could distinguish between wit 
 and humor. 
 
 Endymion at dinner sat between two M. P.s, whom his 
 experience at the House of Commons allowed him to recognize. 
 As he was a young man whom neither of them knew, neither 
 of them addressed him, but with delicate breeding carried on 
 an active conversation across him, as if in fact he was not 
 present. As Endymion had very little vanity, this did not at 
 all annoy him. On the contrary, he was amused, for they 
 spoke of matters with which he was not unacquainted, though 
 he looked as if he knew or heard nothing. Their conversation 
 was what is called "shop :" all about the House and office ; 
 criticisms on speakers, speculations as to preferment, what 
 government would do about this, and how well government 
 got out of that. 
 
 Endymion was amused by seeing Myra, who was remote 
 from him, sitting by St. Barbe, who, warmed by the banquet, 
 was evidently holding forth without the slightest conception 
 that his neighbor whom he addressed had long become familiar 
 with his characteristics. 
 
 After dinner, St. Barbe pounced upon Endymion. " Only 
 think of our meeting here !" he said. "I wonder why they 
 asked you. You are not going to Paris, and you are not a 
 wit. What a family this is," he said ; "I had no idea of 
 wealth before ! Did you observe the silver plates ? I could 
 not hold mine with one hand, it was so heavy. I do not sup- 
 pose there are such plates in the world. It gives one an idea 
 of the galleons and Anson's plunder. But they deserve their 
 wealth," he added; " nobody grudges it to them. I declare 
 when I was eating that truffle, I felt a glow about my heart 
 that, if it were not indigestion, I think must have been grati- 
 tude ; though that is an article I had not believed in. He is a 
 wonderful man, that Neuchatel. If I had only known him a 
 year ago I I would have dedicated my novel to him. He is a 
 
ST.BARBE'S OPINIONS. 147 
 
 sort of man wlio would have given you a check immediately. 
 He would not have read it to be sure, but what of that ? If 
 you had dedicated it to a lord, the most he would have done 
 would have been to have asked you to dinner, and then per- 
 haps have cut up your work in one of the Quality reviews, and 
 taken money for doing it out of our pockets ! Oh ! it's too 
 horrid ! There are some top-sawyers here to-day, Ferrars ! It 
 would make Seymour Hicks' mouth water to be here. We 
 should have had it in the papers, and he would have left us 
 out of the list, and called us, etc. Now I dare say that am- 
 bassador has been blundering all his life, and yet there is some- 
 thing in that star and ribbon ; I do not know how you feel, 
 but I could almost go down on my knees to him. And there 
 is a cabinet minister ; well, we know what he is ; I have been 
 squibbing him for these two years, and now that I meet him 
 I feel like a snob. Oh ! there is an immense deal of supersti- 
 tion left in the world. I am glad they are going to the ladies. 
 I am to be honored by some conversation with the mistress of 
 the house. She seems a first-rate woman, familiar with the 
 glorious pages of a certain classic work, and my humble effu- 
 sions. She praised one she thought I wrote, but between 
 ourselves it was written by that fellow Seymour Hicks, who 
 imitates me ; but I would not put her right, as dinner might 
 have been announced every moment. But she is a great wo- 
 man, sir — wonderful e3^es ! They are all great women here. 
 I sat next to one of the daughters, or daughters-in-law, or 
 nieces, I suppose. By Jove ! it was tierce and quart. If you 
 had been there, you would have been run through in a mo- 
 ment. I had to show my art. ]S"ow they are rising. I should 
 not be surprised if Mr. Neuchatel were to present me to some 
 of the grandees. I believe them to be all impostors, but still 
 it is pleasant to talk to a man with a star. 
 
 ' Ye stars which are the poetry of heaven,' 
 
 Byron wrote ; a silly line ; he should have written, 
 
 ' Ye stars which are the poetry of dress.' " 
 
148 ENDYMION. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIV. 
 
 St. Barbe was not disappointed in his hopes. It was an 
 evening of glorious success for him. He had even the honor 
 of sitting for a time by the side of Mrs. Neuchatel, and, being 
 full of good claret, he, as he phrased it, showed his paces ; that 
 is to say, delivered himself of some sarcastic paradoxes duly 
 blended with fulsome flattery. Later in the evening, he con- 
 trived to be presented both to the ambassador and the cabinet 
 minister, and treated them as if they were demigods ; listened 
 to them as if with an admiration which he vainly endeavored 
 to repress ; never spoke except to enforce and illustrate the 
 views which they had condescended to intimate ; successfully 
 conveyed to his excellency that he was conversing with an en- 
 thusiast for his exalted profession ; and to the minister that he 
 had met an ardent sympathizer with his noble career. The 
 ambassador was not dissatisfied with the impression he had 
 made on one of the foreign correspondents of the '^Chuck- 
 Farthing," and the minister flattered himself that both the 
 literary and the graphic representations of himself in " Scara- 
 mouch " might possibly for the future be mitigated. 
 
 "I have done business to-night," said St. Barbe to Endym- 
 ion toward the close of the evening. *' You did not know I 
 had left the old shop ? I kept it close. I could stand it no 
 longer. One has energies, sir, though not recognized — at least 
 not recognized much," he added thoughtfully. **But who 
 knows what may happen ? The age of mediocrity is not eter- 
 nal. You see this thing offered, and I saw an opening. It has 
 come already. You saw the big wigs all talking to me ? I 
 shall go to Paris now with some eclat. I shall invent a new 
 profession ; the literary diplomatist. The bore is, I know no- 
 thing about foreign politics. My line has been the other way. 
 Never mind ; I will read the ' Debats ' and the ' Revue de 
 Deux Mondes,' and make out something. Foreign affairs are 
 all the future, and my views may be as right as anybody else's ; 
 probably more correct, not so conventional. What a fool I was, 
 Ferrars ! I was asked to remain here to-night and refused ! 
 
A PLEASAyr WALK. 149 
 
 TJie truth is, I could not stand those powdered gentlemen, and 
 I should have been under their care. They seem so haughty 
 and supercilious. And yet I was wrong. I spoke to one of 
 them very rudely Just now, when he was handing coffee, to 
 show I was not afraid, and he answered me like a seraph. I 
 felt remorse. " 
 
 "Well, I have made the acquaintance of Mr. St. Barbe,'' 
 said Myra to Endymion. '^ Strange as he is, he seemed quite 
 familiar to me, and he was so full of himself that he never 
 found me out. I hope some day to know Mr. Trenchard 
 and Mr. Waldershare. Those I look upon as your chief 
 friends." 
 
 On the following afternoon, Adriana, Myra, and Endymion 
 took a long walk together in the forest. The green glades in 
 the autumnal woods were inviting, and some times they stood 
 before the vast form of some doddered oak. The air was fresh 
 and the sun was bright. Adriana was always gay and happy 
 in the company of her adored Myra, and her happiness and her 
 gayety were not diminished by the presence of Myra's brother. 
 So it was a lively and pleasant walk. 
 
 At the end of a long glade they observed a horseman fol- 
 lowed by a groom approaching them. Endymion was some 
 little way behind, gathering wild flowers for Adriana. Canter- 
 ing along, the cavalier soon reached them, and then he suddenly 
 pulled up his horse. It was Colonel Albert. 
 
 "You are walking, ladies ? Permit me to join you," and 
 he was by their side. " I delight in forests and in green alleys," 
 said Colonel Albert. "Two wandering nymphs make the 
 scene perfect." 
 
 "We are not alone," said Adriana, "but our guardian is 
 picking some wild flowers for us, which we fancied. I think 
 it is time to return. You are going to Hainault, I believe. 
 Colonel Albert, so we can all walk home together." 
 
 So they turned, and Endymion with his graceful offering 
 in a moment met them. Full of his successful quest, he offered 
 with eager triumph the flowers to Adriana, without casting a 
 glance at her new companion. 
 
 " Beautiful !" exclaimed Adriana, and she stopped to ad- 
 
150 ENDYMIOK 
 
 mire and arrange them. " See, dear Myra, is not this lovely ? 
 How superior to anything in our glass-houses." 
 
 Myra took the flower and examined it. Colonel Albert, 
 who was silent, was watching all this time Endymion with in- 
 tentness, who now looked up and encountered the gaze of the 
 new comer. Their eyes met, their countenances were agitated, 
 they seemed perplexed, and then it seemed that at the same 
 time both extended their hands. 
 
 "It is a long time since we met," said Colonel Albert, and 
 he retained the hand of Endymion with affection. But Endym- 
 ion, who was apparently much moyed, said nothing, or rather, 
 only murmured an echo to the remarks of his new friend. And 
 then they all walked on, but Myra fell a little back and made 
 a signal to Endymion to join her. 
 
 " You neyer told me, darling, that you knew Colonel Al- 
 bert." 
 
 *^ Colonel Albert ! " said Endymion, looking amazed, and 
 then he added, " Who is Colonel Albert ? " 
 
 "That gentleman before us," said Myra. 
 
 " That is the Count of bran to, whose fag I was at Eton." 
 
 " The Count of Otranto ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 CoLOifEL Albert from this day became an object of in- 
 creased and deeper interest to Myra. His appearance and 
 manners had always been attractive, and the mystery connected 
 with him was not calculated to diminish curiosity in his con- 
 duct or fate. But when she discovered that he was the unseen 
 hero of her childhood, the being who had been kind to her 
 Endymion in what she had ever considered the severest trial 
 of her brother's life, had been his protector from those who 
 would have oppressed him and had cherished him in the deso- 
 late hour of his delicate and tender boyhood, her heart was 
 disturbed. How often had they talked together of the Count 
 of Otranto, and how often had they wondered who he was ! 
 
A MYSTERIOUS PERSOl^AOE. 151 
 
 His memory had been a delightful mystery to them in their 
 Berkshire solitude, and Myra recalled with a secret smile the 
 numberless and ingenious inquiries by which she had endeav- 
 ored to elicit from her brother some clew as to his friend, or 
 to discoyer some detail which might guide her to a conclusion. 
 Endymion had known nothing, and was clear always that the 
 Count of Otranto must have been, and was, an English boy. 
 And now the Count of Otranto called himself Colonel Albert, 
 and though he persisted in speaking English, had admitted to 
 Mrs. Neuchatel that he was a foreigner. 
 
 Who was he ? She resolved, when she had an opportunity, 
 to speak to the great banker on the subject. 
 
 "Do you know, Mr. Neuchatel," she said, "that Endym- 
 ion, my brother, was at school with Colonel Albert ?" 
 
 "Ah, ah !" said Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 " But when he was at school he had another name," said 
 Myra. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " said Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 "He was then called the Count of Otranto." 
 
 " That is a very pretty name," said Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 " But why did he change it ? " asked Myra. 
 
 "The great world often change their names," said Mr. 
 Neuchatel. "It is only poor city-men like myself who are 
 always called Mr., and bear the same name as their fathers." 
 
 " But when a person is called a count when he is a boy, he 
 is seldom called only a colonel when he is a man," said Myra. 
 " There is a great mystery in all this." 
 
 "I should not be surprised," said Mr. Neuchatel, "if he 
 were to change his name again before this time next year." 
 
 "Why?" asked Myra. 
 
 "Well, when I have read all his papers in Bishopsgate 
 Street perhaps I shall be able to tell you," said Mr. Neuchatel, 
 and Myra felt that she could pursue the theme no further. 
 
 She expected that Endymion would in time be able to ob- 
 tain this information, but it was not so. In their first private 
 conversation after their meeting in the forest, Endymion had 
 informed Colonel Albert that, though they had met now for 
 the first time since his return, they had been for some time 
 
152 ENDYMION. 
 
 lodgers in London under the same roof. Colonel Albert smiled 
 when Endymion told him this ; then falling into thought, he 
 said : '^I hojie we may often meet, but for the moment it may 
 be as well that the past should be known only to ourselves. I 
 wish my life for the present to be as private as I can arrange it. 
 There is no reason why we should not be sometimes together — 
 that is, when you have leisure. I had the pleasure of making 
 your acquaintance at my banker's." 
 
 Parliament had been dissolved through the demise of the 
 crown in the summer of this j^ear (1837), and London society 
 had been prematurely broken up. Waldershare had left town 
 early in July to secure his election, in which he was successful, 
 with no intention of settling again in his old haunts till the 
 meeting of the new House of Commons, which was to be in 
 November. The Rodneys were away at some Kentish watering- 
 place during August and September, exhibiting to an admiring 
 world their exquisitely made dresses, and enjoying themselves 
 amazingly at balls and assemblies at the public rooms. The 
 resources of private society also were not closed to them. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Gamme were also there and gave immense dinners, 
 and the airy Mrs. Hooghley, who laughed a little at the 
 Gammes' substantial gatherings and herself improvised charm- 
 ing picnics. So there was really little embarrassment in the 
 social relations between Colonel Albert and Endymion. They 
 resolved themselves chiefly into arranging joint expeditions to 
 Hainault. Endymion had a perpetual invitation there, and it 
 seemed that the transactions between Mr. Neuchatel and the 
 colonel required much conference, for the banker always ex- 
 pected him, although it was well known that they met not 
 unfrequently in Bishopsgate Street in the course of the week. 
 Colonel Albert and Endymion always staid at Hainault from 
 Saturday till Monday.' It delighted the colonel to mount En- 
 dymion on one of his choice steeds, and his former fag enjoyed 
 all this amazingly. 
 
 Colonel Albert became domiciled at Hainault. The rooms 
 which were occupied by him when there were always reserved 
 for him. He had a general invitation, and might leave his 
 luggage and books and papers behind him. It was evident that 
 
COLONEL ALBERTS CHAMPION. 153 
 
 the family pleased him. Between Mr. Neuchatel and himself 
 there were obviously affairs of great interest ; but it was equally 
 clear that he liked the female members of the family — all of 
 them ; and all liked him. And yet it can not be said that he 
 was entertaining, but there are some silent people who are more 
 interesting than the best talkers. And when he did speak he 
 always said the right thing. His manners were tender and 
 gentle ; he had an unobtrusive sympathy with all they said or 
 did, except, indeed, and that was not rarely, when he was lost 
 in profound abstraction. 
 
 **I delight in your friend the colonel, Adrian," said Mrs. 
 Neuchatel, "but I must say he is very absent." 
 
 *' He has a good deal to think about," said Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 " I wonder what it can be," thought Myra. 
 
 " He has a claim to a great estate," said Mr. Neuchatel, 
 ''and he has to think of the best mode of establishing it ; and 
 he has been deprived of great honors, and he believes unjustly, 
 and he wishes to regain them." 
 
 "No wonder, then, he is absent," said Mrs. Neuchatel. 
 "If he only knew what a burden great wealth was, I am sure 
 h? would not wish to possess it, and as for honors I never could 
 make out why having a title or a ribbon could make any differ- 
 ence in a human being." 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear Emily," said Mr. Neuchatel. " Great 
 wealth is a great blessing to a man who knows what to do with 
 it, and as for honors, they are inestimable to the honorable." 
 
 "Well, I ardently hope Colonel Albert may succeed," said 
 Myra, "because he was so kind to my brother at Eton. He 
 must have a good heart." 
 
 "They say he is the most unscrupulous of living men," said 
 Mr. Neuchatel, with his peculiar smile. 
 
 "Good heavens !" exclaimed Mrs. Neuchatel. 
 
 " How terrible ! " said Adriana. " It can not be true." 
 
 " Perhaps he is the most determined," said Myra. " Moral 
 courage is the rarest of qualities, and often maligned." 
 
 "Well, he has got a champion," said Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 "I ardently wish him success," said Myra, "in all his un- 
 dertakings. I only wish I knew what they were." 
 
154 ENDYMIOK 
 
 "Has not he told your brother, Miss Ferrars ?" asked Mr. 
 Neuchatel, with laughing eyes. 
 
 "He never speaks of himself to Endymion," said Myra. 
 
 " He speaks a good deal of himself to me," said Mr. Neu- 
 chatel ; "and he is going to bring a friend here to-morrow who 
 knows more about his affairs even than I do. So you will have 
 a very good opportunity, Miss Ferrars, of making yourself ac- 
 quainted with them, particularly if you sit next to him at din- 
 ner, and are very winning." 
 
 The friend of Colonel Albert was Baron Sergius, the baron 
 who used to visit him in London at twilight in a dark brougham. 
 Mrs. Neuchatel was greatly taken by his appearance, by the 
 calmness of his mien, his unstudied politeness, and his mea- 
 sured voice. He conversed with her entirely at dinner on Ger- 
 man philosophy, of which he seemed a complete master, ex- 
 plained to her the different schools, and probably the success- 
 ful ones, and imparted to her that precise knowledge which she 
 required on the subject, and which she had otherwise been un- 
 able to obtain. It seemed, too, that he personally knew all the 
 famous professors, and he intimated their doctrines not only 
 with profound criticism, but described their persons and habifcs 
 with vividness and picturesque power, never, however, all this 
 time, by any chance raising his voice, the tones of which were 
 ever distinct and a little precise. 
 
 " Is this the first visit of your friend to this country ? " asked 
 Myra of Colonel Albert. 
 
 " Oh, no ; he has been here often — and everywhere," added 
 Colonel Albert. 
 
 " Everywhere ! he must be a most interesting companion 
 then." 
 
 " I find him so ; I never knew any one whom I thought equal 
 to him. But perhaps I am not an impartial judge, for I have 
 known him so long and so intimately. In fact, I have never 
 been out of his sight till I was brought over to this country to 
 be placed at Eton. He is the counselor of our family, and we 
 all of us have ever agreed that if his advice had been always fol- 
 lowed we should never have had a calamity." 
 
 " Indeed a gifted person ! Is he a soldier ?" 
 
A PACKET. 155 
 
 "JSTo; Baron Sergius has not followed the profession of 
 arms." 
 
 "He looks a diplomatist." 
 
 "Well, he is now nothing hut my friend," said the colonel. 
 " He might have been anything, but he is a peculiarly domes- 
 tic character, and is devoted to private life." 
 
 "You are fortunate in such a friend." 
 
 "Well, I am glad to be fortunate in something," said 
 Colonel Albert. 
 
 "And are you not fortunate in everything ?" 
 
 " I have not that reputation ; but I shall be more than for- 
 tunate if I have your kind wishes." 
 
 " That you have," said Myra, rather eagerly. " My brother 
 taught me, even as a child, to wish nothing but good for you. 
 I wish I knew only what I was to wish for. " 
 
 " Wish that my plans may succeed," said Colonel Albert, 
 looking round to her with interest. 
 
 " I will more than wish," said Myra ; " I will believe 
 that they will succeed, because I think you have resolved to 
 succeed." 
 
 "I shall tell Endymion when I see him," said Colonel 
 Albert, " that his sister is the only person who has read my 
 character." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 CoLOKEL Albeet and Baron Sergius drove up in their landau 
 from Hainault while Endymion was at the door in Warwick 
 Street, returning home. The colonel saluted him cordially and 
 said, " The baron is going to take a cup of coffee with me ; 
 join us." So they went up-stairs. There was a packet on the 
 table, which seemed to catch the colonel's eye immediately, and 
 he at once opened it with eagerness. It coutained many for- 
 eign newspapers. Without waiting for the servant who was 
 about to bring candles, the colonel lighted a taper on the table 
 with a lucifer, and then withdrew into the adjoining chamber. 
 
156 ENDYMIOK 
 
 opening, however, with folding doors to the principal and spa- 
 cious apartment. 
 
 '^ A foreign newspaper always ititerests our friend," said the 
 baron, taking his coffee. 
 
 **Well, it must always be interesting to have news from 
 home, I suppose," said Endymion. 
 
 "Home !" said the baron. "News is always interesting, 
 whether it come from home or not." 
 
 " To public men," said Endymion, sipping his coffee. 
 
 " To all men if they be wise," said the baron ; " as a general 
 rule, the most successful man in life is the man who has the 
 best information." 
 
 "But what a rare thing is success in life," said Endymion. 
 "I often wonder whether I shall ever be able to step out of 
 the crowd." 
 
 " You may have success in life without stepping out of the 
 crowd," said the baron. 
 
 "A sort of success," said Endymion; "I know what you 
 mean. But what I mean is real success in life. I mean, I 
 should like to be a public man." 
 
 " Why ? " asked the baron. 
 
 "Well, I should like to have power," said Endymion 
 blushing. 
 
 "The most powerful men are not public men," said the 
 baron. "A public man is responsible, and a responsible man 
 is a slave. It is private life that governs the world. You 
 will find this out some day. The world talks much of power- 
 ful sovereigns and great ministers ; and if being talked about 
 made one powerful, they would be irresistible. But the fact 
 is, the more you are talked about the less powerful you are." 
 
 "But surely King Luitbrand is a powerful monarch ; they 
 say he is the wisest of men. And the Emperor Harold, who 
 has succeeded in everything. And as for ministers, who is a 
 great man if it be not Prince Wenceslaus ? " 
 
 "King Luitbrand is governed by his doctor, who is capable 
 of governing Europe, but has no ambition that way ; the Em- 
 peror Harold is directed by his mistress, who is a woman of a 
 certain age with a vast sagacity, but who also believes in sor- 
 
ENDYMION'S FIRST SPEECH. . 157 
 
 eery ; and as for Prince Wenceslaus, lie is inspired by an indiyid- 
 ual as obscure as ourselves, and who, for aught 1 know, may be, 
 at this moment, like ourselves, drinking a cup of coffee in a 
 hired lodging." 
 
 "What you say about public life amazes me," said Endym- 
 ion musingly. 
 
 '* Think over it," said the baron. " As an Englishman, you 
 will have difficulty in avoiding public life. But at any rate, 
 do not at present be discontented that you are unknown. It 
 is the first condition of real power. When you have succeeded 
 in life according to your views, and I am inclined to believe you 
 will so succeed, you will, some day, sigh for real power, and de- 
 nounce the time when you became a public man, and belonged 
 to any one but yourself. But our friend calls me. He has 
 found something startling. I will venture to say, if there be 
 anything in it, it has been brought about by some individual 
 of whom you never heard." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 With the assembling of Parliament in November recom- 
 menced the sittings of the Union Society, of which Endymion 
 had for some time been a member, and of whose meetings he 
 was a constant and critical, though silent, attendant. There 
 was a debate one night on the government of dependencies, 
 which, although all reference to existing political circumstances 
 was rigidly prohibited, no doubt had its origin in the critical 
 state of one of our most important colonies, then much em- 
 barrassing the metropolis. The subject was one which Endym- 
 ion had considered, and on which he had arrived at certain 
 conclusions. The meeting was fully attended, and the debate 
 had been conducted with a gravity becoming the theme. En- 
 dymion was sitting on a back bench, and with no companion 
 near him with whom he was acquainted, when he rose and so- 
 licited the attention of the president. Another and a well- 
 known speaker had also risen, and been called, but there was a 
 
158 ENDYMION. 
 
 cry of "new member/' a courteous cry, borrowed from the 
 House of Commons, and Endymion for the first time heard his 
 own voice in public. He has since admitted, though he has 
 been through many trying scenes, that it was the most ner- 
 vous moment of his life. *^ After Calais," as a wise wit said, 
 "nothing surprises ;" and the first time a man speaks in pub- 
 lic, even if only at a debating society, is also the unequaled 
 incident in its way. The indulgence of the audience supported 
 him while the mist cleared from his vision, and his palpitating 
 heart subsided into comparative tranquillity. After a few par- 
 donable incoherencies, he was launched into his subject, and 
 spoke with the thoughtful fluency which knowledge alone can 
 sustain. For knowledge is the foundation of eloquence. 
 
 " What a good-looking young fellow ! " whispered Mr, Bertie 
 Tremaine to his brother Mr. Tremaine Bertie. The Bertie 
 Tremaines were the two greatest swells of the Union, and had 
 a party of their own. " And he speaks well." 
 
 "Who is he ?" inquired Mr. Tremaine Bertie of their other 
 neighbor. 
 
 " He is a clerk in the Treasury, I believe, or something of 
 that sort," was the reply. 
 
 "I never saw such a good-looking young fellow," said Mr. 
 Bertie Tremaine. " He is worth getting hold of. I shall ask 
 to be introduced to him when we break up." 
 
 Accordingly, Mr. Bertie Tremaine, who was always playing 
 at politics, and who, being two and twenty, was discontented 
 he was not Chancellor of the Exchequer like Mr. Pitt, whis- 
 pered to a gentleman who sat behind him, and was, in short, 
 the whip of his section, and signified, as a minister of state 
 would, that an introduction to Mr. Ferrars should be ar- 
 ranged. 
 
 So when the meeting broke up, of which Mr. Ferrars' 
 maiden speech was quite the event, and while he was contem- 
 plating, not without some fair self-complacency, walking home 
 with Trenchard, Endymion found himself encompassed by a 
 group of bowing forms and smiling countenances, and almost 
 before he was aware of it, had made the acquaintance of the 
 great Mr. Bertie Tremaine, and received, not only the con- 
 
MB. BERTIE TREMAINE. 159 
 
 gratulations of that gentleman, but an invitation to dine with 
 him on the morrow ; *' quite sans fa^on.''^ 
 
 Mr. Bertie Tremaine, who had early succeeded to the family 
 estate, lived in Grosvenor Street, and in becoming style. His 
 house was furnished with luxury and some taste. The host 
 received his guests in a library, well stored with political his- 
 tory and political science, and adorned with the busts of cele- 
 brated statesmen and of profound political sages. Bentham 
 was the philosopher then affected by young gentlemen of am- 
 bition, and who wished to have credit for profundity and hjird 
 heads. Mr. Bertie Tremaine had been the proprietor of a close 
 borough, which for several generations had returned his family 
 to Parliament, the faithful supporters of Pitt and Perceval, 
 and Liverpool, and he had contemj^lated following the same 
 line, though with larger and higher objects than his ancestors. 
 Being a man of considerable and versatile ability, and of ample 
 fortune, with the hereditary opportunity which he possessed, 
 he had a right to aspire, and, as his vanity more than equaled 
 his talents, his estimate of his own career was not mean. Un- 
 fortunately, before he left Harrow, he was deprived of his bor- 
 ough, and this catastrophe eventually occasioned a considerable 
 change in the views and conduct of Mr. Bertie Tremaine. In 
 the confusion of parties and political thought which followed 
 the Reform Act of Lord Grey, an attempt to govern the coun- 
 try by the assertion of abstract principles, and which it was 
 nov»^ beginning to be the fashion to call Liberalism, seemed the 
 only opening to public life, and Mr. Bertie Tremaine, who 
 piqued himself on recognizing the spirit of the age, adopted 
 Liberal opinions with that youthful fervor which is sometimes 
 called enthusiasm, but which is a heat of imagination subse- 
 quently discovered to be inconsistent with the experience of 
 actual life. At Cambridge Mr. Bertie Tremaine was at first 
 the solitary pupil of Bentham, whose principles he was pre- 
 pared to carry to their extreme consequences, but being a man 
 of energy and in possession of a good estate, he soon found fol- 
 lowers, for the sympathies of youth are quick, and, even with 
 an original bias, it is essentially mimetic. When Mr. Bertie 
 Tremaine left the university, he found in the miscellaneous 
 
160 ENDYMIOK 
 
 elements of the London Union many of his former companions 
 of school and college, and from them, and the new world to 
 which he was introduced, it delighted him to form parties and 
 construct imaginary cabinets. His brother Augustus, who was 
 his junior only by a year, and was destined to be a diplomatist, 
 was an efficient assistant in these enterprises, and was one of 
 the guests who greeted Endymion when he arrived next day in 
 Grosvenor Street according to his engagement. The other 
 three were Hortensius, the whip of the party, and Mr. Tren- 
 chard. 
 
 The dinner was refined, for Mr. Bertie Tremaine combined 
 the Sybarite with the Utilitarian sage, and it secretly delighted 
 him to astonish or embarrass an austere brother republican by 
 the splendor of his family plate or the polished appointments 
 of his household. To-day the individual to be influenced was 
 Endymion, and the host, acting up to his ideal of a first niin- 
 ister, addressed questions to his companions on the subjects 
 which were peculiarly their own, and after eliciting their 
 remarks, continued or completed the treatment of the theme 
 with adequate ability, though in a manner authoritative, and, 
 as Endymion thought, a little pompous. What amused him 
 most in this assemblage of youth v^^as their earnest affectation 
 of public life. The freedom of their comments on others was 
 only equaled by their confidence in themselves. Endymion, who 
 only spoke when he was appealed to, had casually remarked in 
 answer to one of the observations which his host with elabo- 
 rate politeness occasionally addressed to him, that he thought 
 it was unpatriotic to take a certain course. Mr. Bertie Tre- 
 maine immediately drew up, and said, with a deep smile, 
 " That he comprehended philanthropy, but patriotism he con- 
 fessed he did not understand." And thereupon delivered him- 
 self of an address on the subject which might have been made 
 in the Union, and which communicated to the astonished En- 
 dymion that patriotism was a false idea, and entirely repugnant 
 to the principles of the new philosophy. As all present were 
 more or less impregnated with these tenets, there was no con- 
 troversy on the matter. Endymion remained discreetly silent, 
 and Augustus — Mr. Bertie Tremaine's brother — who sat next 
 
TEE PARTY OF THE FUTURE. 161 
 
 to him, and whose manners were as sympathizing as his broth- 
 er's were autocratic, whispered in a wheedling tone that it was 
 quite true, and that the idea of patriotism was entirely relin- 
 quished except by a few old-fashioned folks who clung to su- 
 perstitious phrases. Hortensius, who seemed to be the only 
 one of the company who presumed to meet Mr. Bertie Tre- 
 maine in conversation on equal terms, and who had already 
 astonished Endymion by what that inexperienced youth deemed 
 the extreme laxity of his views, both social and political, 
 evinced, more than once, a disposition to deviate into the light- 
 er topics of feminine character, and even the fortunes of the 
 hazard-table ; but the host looked severe, and was evidently re- 
 solved that the conversation to-day should resemble the expres- 
 sion of his countenance. After dinner they returned to the 
 library, and most of them smoked, but Mr. Bertie Tremaine, 
 inviting Endymion to seat himself by his side on a sofa at the 
 farther end of the room, observed, "I suppose you are looking 
 to Parliament ? " 
 
 *^Well, I do not know," said the somewhat startled En- 
 dymion ; "I have not thought much about it, and I have not 
 yet reached a parliamentary age. " 
 
 "A man can not enter Parliament too soon," said Mr. Ber- 
 tie Tremaine ; " I hope to enter this session. There will be a 
 certain vacancy on a petition, and I have arranged to have the 
 seat." 
 
 '^Indeed!" said Endymion. "My father was in Parlia- 
 ment, and so was my grandfather, but I confess I do not very 
 well see my way there." 
 
 "You must connect yourself with a party," said Mr. Bertie 
 Tremaine, "and you will soon enter; and being young, you 
 should connect yourself with the party of the future. The 
 country is wearied with the present men, who have no philo- 
 sophical foundation, and are therefore perpetually puzzled and 
 inconsistent, and the country will not stand the old men, as it 
 is resolved against retrogression. The party of the future and 
 of the speedy future has its headquarters under this roof, and 
 I should like to see you belong to it." 
 
 "You are too kind," murmured Endymion. 
 
162 EKDYMIOK 
 
 " Yes, I see in you the qualities adapted to public life, and 
 which may be turned to great account. I must get you into 
 Parliament as soon as you are eligible," continued Mr. Bertie 
 Tremaine in a musing tone. *' This death of the King was 
 very inopportune. If he had reigned a couple of years more, 
 I saw my way to half a dozen seats, and I could have arranged 
 with Lord Durham." 
 
 "That was unfortunate," said Endymion. 
 
 *^"What do you think of Hortensius ?" inquired Mr. Bertie 
 Tremaine. 
 
 " I think him the most brilliant speaker I know," said En- 
 dymion. " I never met him in private society before ; he talks 
 well." 
 
 "He wants conduct," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine. "He 
 ought to be my Lord Chancellor, but there is a tone of levity 
 about him which is unfortunate. Men destined to the highest 
 places should beware of badinage." 
 
 "I believe it is a dangerous weapon." 
 
 " All lawyers are loose in their youth, but an insular coun- 
 try subject to fogs, and with a powerful middle class, requires 
 grave statesmen. I attribute a great deal of the nonsense called 
 Conservative Reaction to Peel's solemnity. The proper min- 
 ister for England at this moment would be Pitt. Extreme 
 youth gives hope to a country ; coupled with ceremonious man- 
 ners, hope soon assumes the form of confidence." 
 
 "Ah !" murmured Endymion. 
 
 " I had half a mind to ask Jawett to dinner to-day. His 
 powers are unquestionable, but he is not a practical man. For 
 instance, I think myself our colonial empire is a mistake, and 
 that we should disembarrass ourselves of its burden as rapidly 
 as is consistent with the dignity of the nation ; but were Jawett 
 in the House of Commons to-morrow, nothing would satisfy 
 him but a resolution for the total and immediate abolition of 
 the empire, with a preamble denouncing the folly of our fa- 
 thers in creating it. Jawett never spares any one's self-love. " 
 
 "I know him very well," said Endymion ; "he is in my 
 office. He is very uncompromising." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine musingly, "if I had to 
 
REMINISCENCES. 163 
 
 form a gOYernment, I could hardly offer him the cabinet." 
 Then speaking more rapidly, he added, ^*The man you should 
 attach yourself to is my brother Augustus — Mr. Tremaine 
 Bertie. There is no man who understands foreign politics like 
 Augustus, and he is a thorough man of the world." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Whei^ Parliament reassembled in February, the Neuchatels 
 quitted Hainault for their London residence in Portland Place. 
 Mrs. Neuchatel was sadly troubled at leaving her country home, 
 which, notwithstanding its distressing splendor, had still some 
 forms of compensatory innocence in its flowers and sylvan 
 glades. Adriana sighed when she called to mind the manifold 
 and mortifying snares and pitfalls that awaited her, and had 
 even framed a highly practical and sensible scheme which 
 would permit her parents to settle in tovfn and allow Myra and 
 herself to remain permanently in the country ; but Myra 
 brushed away the project like a fly, and Adriana yielding, em- 
 braced her with tearful eyes. 
 
 The Neuchatel mansion in Portland Place was one of the 
 noblest in that comely quarter of the town, and replete with 
 every charm and convenience that wealth and taste could pro- 
 vide. Myra, who, like her brother, had a tenacious memory, 
 was interested in recalling as fully and as accurately as possible 
 her previous experience of London life. She was then indeed 
 only a child, but a child who was often admitted to brilliant 
 circles, and had enjoyed opportunities of social observation 
 which the very youthful seldom possess. Her retrospection 
 was not as profitable as she could have desired, and she was 
 astonished, after a severe analysis of the past, to find how en- 
 tirely at that early age she appeared to have been engrossed 
 with herself and with Endymion. Hill Street and Wimbledon, 
 and all their various life, figured as shadowy scenes ; she could 
 realize nothing very definite for her present guidance ; the 
 past seemed a phantom of fine dresses, and bright equipages, 
 
164 ENDYMION. 
 
 and endless indulgence. All that had happened after their fall 
 was distinct and full of meaning. It would seem that adver- 
 sity had taught Myra to feel alTd think. 
 
 Forty years ago the great financiers had not that command- 
 ing, not to say predominant, position in society which they 
 possess at present, but the Neuchatels were an exception to 
 this general condition. They were a family which not only 
 had the art of accumulating wealth, but of expending it with 
 taste and generosity — ^an extremely rare combination. Their 
 great riches, their political influence, their high integrity and 
 their social accomplishments, combined to render their house 
 not only splendid, but interesting and agreeable, and gave 
 them a great hold upon the world. At first the fine ladies of 
 their political party called on them as a homage of condescend- 
 ing gratitude for the public support which the Neuchatel 
 family gave to their sons and husbands, but they soon discov- 
 ered that this amiable descent from their Olympian heights on 
 their part did not amount exactly to the sacrifice or service 
 which they had contemplated. They found their hosts as re- 
 fined as themselves, and much more magnificent, and in a very 
 short time it was not merely the wives of ambassadors and min- 
 isters of state that were found at the garden f^tes of Hainault, 
 or the balls, and banquets, and concerts of Portland Place, 
 but the fitful and capricious realm of fashion surrendered like 
 a fair country conquered as it were by surprise. To visit the 
 Neuchatels became the mode ; all solicited to be their guests, 
 and some solicited in vain. 
 
 Although it was only February, the world began to move, 
 and some of the ministers' wives who were socially strong 
 enough to venture on such a step, received their friends. Mr. 
 Neuchatel particularly liked this form of society. "I can not 
 manage balls," he used to say, '*but I like a ministerial recep- 
 tion. There is some chance of sensible conversation and doing 
 a little business. I like talking with ambassadors after dinner. 
 Besides, in this country you meet the leaders of the opposition, 
 because, as they are not invited by the minister, but by his 
 wife, anybody can come without committing himself." 
 
 Myra, faithful to her original resolution, not to enter society 
 
MYBA'S CURIOSITY. 165 
 
 while she was in mourning, declined all the solicitations of her 
 friends to accompany them to these assemblies. Mrs. Neucha- 
 tel always wished Myra should be her substitute, and it was 
 only at Myra's instance that Adriana accompanied her parents. 
 In the mean time, Myra saw much of Endymion. He was 
 always a welcome guest by the family, and could call upon his 
 sister at all the odds and ends of time that were at his com- 
 mand, and chat with her at pleasant ease in her pretty room. 
 Sometimes they walked out together, and sometimes they went 
 together to see some exhibition that everybody went to see. 
 Adriana became almost as intimate with Endymion as his 
 sister, and altogether the Neuchatel family became by degrees 
 to him as a kind of home. Talking with Endymion, Myra 
 heard a good deal of Colonel Albert, for he was her brother's 
 hero — but she rarely saw that gentleman. She was aware from 
 her brother, and from some occasional words of Mr. Neuchatel, 
 that the great banker still saw Colonel Albert and not unfre- 
 quently, but the change of residence from Hainault to London 
 made a difference in their mode of communication. Business 
 was transacted in Bishopsgate Street, and no longer combined 
 with a pleasant ride to an Essex forest. More than once Colo- 
 nel Albert had dined in Portland Place, but at irregular and 
 miscellaneous parties. Myra observed that he was never asked 
 to meet the grand personages who attended the celebrated ban- 
 quets of Mr. Neuchatel. And why not ? His manners were 
 distinguished, and his whole bearing that of one accustomed 
 to consideration. The irrepressible curiosity of woman im- 
 pelled her once to feel her way on the subject with Mr. N"eu- 
 chatel, but with the utmost dexterity and delicacy. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Neuchatel with a laughing eye, and who 
 saw through everybody's purpose, though his own manner was 
 one of simplicity amounting almost to innocence, "I did not 
 say Colonel Albert was going to dine here on Wednesday ; I 
 have asked him to dine here on Sunday. On Wednesday I am 
 going to have the premier and some of his colleagues. I must 
 insist upon Miss Ferrars dining at table. You will meet Lord 
 Eoehampton ; dll the ladies admire him and he admires all the 
 ladies. It will not do to ask Colonel Albert to meet such a 
 
1G6 ENDYMIOK 
 
 party, though perhaps," added Mr. Neuchatel with a merry 
 smile, " some day they may he asked to meet Colonel Albert. 
 Who knows. Miss Ferrars ? The wheel of fortune turns round 
 very strangely." 
 
 *' And who then is Colonel Albert ?" asked Myra with de- 
 cision. 
 
 " Colonel Albert is Colonel Albert, and nobody else so far 
 as I know," replied Mr. Neuchatel ; 'Mie has brought a let- 
 ter of credit on my house in that name, and I am happy to 
 honor his drafts to the amount in question, and as he is a 
 foreigner, I think it is but kind and courteous occasionally to 
 ask him to dinner." 
 
 Miss Ferrars did not pursue the inquiry, for she was suf- 
 ficiently acquainted with Mr. Neuchatel to feel that he did not 
 intend to gratify her curiosity. 
 
 The banquet of the Neuchatels to the premier, and some of 
 the principal ambassadors and their wives, and to those of the 
 premier's colleagues who were fashionable enough to be asked, 
 and to some of the dukes and duchesses and other ethereal 
 beings who supported the ministry, was the first event of the 
 season. The table blazed with rare flowers and rarer porcelain 
 and precious candelabra of sculptured beauty glittering with 
 light ; the gold plate was less remarkable than the delicate 
 ware that had been alike molded and adorned for a Du Barri 
 or a Marie Antoinette, and which now found a permanent and 
 peaceful home in the proverbial land of purity and order ; and 
 amid the stars and ribbons, not the least remarkable feature of 
 the whole was Mr. Neuchatel himself, seated at the center of 
 his table, alike free from ostentation or over-deference, talking 
 to the great ladies on each side of him as if he had nothing to 
 do in life but whisper in gentle ears, and partaking of his own 
 dainties as if he were eating bread and cheese at a country inn. 
 
 Perhaps Mrs. Neuchatel might have afforded a companion 
 picture. Partly in deference to their host, and partly because 
 this evening the first dance of the season was to be given, the 
 great ladies in general wore their diamonds, and Myra was 
 amused as she watched their dazzling tiaras ^nd flashing ri- 
 vieres, while not a single ornament adorned the graceful pres- 
 
LADY MONTFORT. 167 
 
 ence of their hostess, who was more content to he brilliant 
 only by her conversation. As Mr. Neuchatel had only a few 
 days before presented his wife with another diamond necklace, 
 he might be excused were he slightly annoyed. Nothing of 
 the sort ; he only shrugged his shoulders, and said to his 
 nephew, *' Your aunt must feel that I give her diamonds from 
 love and not from vanity, as she never lets me have the plea- 
 sure of seeing them." The sole ornament of Adriana was an 
 orchid, which had arrived that morning from Hainault, and 
 she had presented its fellow to Myra. 
 
 There was one lady who much attracted the attention of 
 M3Ta, interested in all she observed. This lady was evidently 
 a person of importance, for she sat between an ambassador and 
 a knight of the garter, and they vied in homage to her. They 
 watched her every word, and seemed delighted with all she said. 
 Without being strictly beautiful, there was an expression of 
 sweet animation in her physiognomy which was highly attrac- 
 tive : her eye was full of summer lightning, and there was an 
 arch dimple in her smile, which seemed to irradiate her whole 
 countenance. She was quite a young woman, hardly older 
 than Myra. What most distinguished her was the harmony of 
 her whole person ; her graceful figure, her fair and finely 
 molded shoulders, her pretty teeth and her small extremities, 
 seemed to blend with and become the soft vivacity of her win- 
 ning glance. 
 
 *'Lady Montfort looks well to-night," said the neighbor of 
 Myra. 
 
 " And is that Lady Montfort ? Do you know, I never saw 
 her before." 
 
 *^ Yes ; that is the famous Berengaria, the Queen of Society 
 and the genius of Whiggism." 
 
 In the evening, a great lady, who was held to have the 
 finest voice in society, favored them with a splendid specimen 
 of her commanding skill, and then Adriana was induced to grat- 
 ify her friends with a song, *^only one song," and that only on 
 condition that Myra should accompany her. Miss Neuchatel 
 had a sweet and tender voice and it had been finely cultivated ; 
 she would have been more than charming if she had only taken 
 
168 ENDYMIOK 
 
 interest in anything she herself did, or believed for a moment 
 that she could interest others. When she ceased, a gentleman 
 approached the instrument and addressed her in terms of sym- 
 pathy and deferential praise. Myra recognized the knight of 
 the garter who had sat next to Lady Montfort. He was some- 
 what advanced in middle life, tall and of a stately presence, 
 with a voice more musical even than the tones which had re- 
 cently enchanted every one. His countenance was impressive, 
 a truly Olympian brow, but the lower part of the face indicated 
 not feebleness, but flexibility, and his mouth was somewhat 
 sensuous. His manner was at once winning, natural, and sin- 
 gularly unaffected, and seemed to sympathize entirely with 
 those whom he addressed. 
 
 " But I have never been at Hainault, " said the gentleman, 
 continuing a conversation, '* and therefore could not hear the 
 nightingales. I am content you have brought one of them to 
 town." 
 
 "Nightingales disappear in June," said Miss Ferrars ; "so 
 our season will be short. " 
 
 "And where do they travel to ?" asked the gentleman. 
 
 "Ah! that is a mystery," said Myra. "You must ask 
 Miss Neuchatel." 
 
 " But she will not tell me," said the gentleman, for in truth 
 Miss Neuchatel, though he had frequently addressed her, had 
 scarcely opened her lips. 
 
 "Tell your secret, Adriana," said Miss Ferrars, trying to 
 force her to converse. 
 
 " Adriana ! " said the gentleman. " What a beautiful name ! 
 You look with- that flower. Miss Neuchatel, like a bride of 
 Venice." 
 
 "Nay," said Myra; "the bride of Venice was a stormy 
 ocean." 
 
 "And have you a Venetian name ? " asked the gentleman. 
 
 There was a pause, and then Miss Neuchatel, with an effort, 
 murmured, " She has a very pretty name. Her name is Myra." 
 
 "She seems to deserve it," said the gentleman. 
 
 " So you like my daughter's singing," said Mr. Neuchatel, 
 coming up to them. "She does not much like singing in 
 
LORD ROEEAMPTON. 169 
 
 public, but she is a very good girl, and always gives me a song 
 when I come home from business." 
 
 '' Fortunate man," said the gentleman. "^ I wish somebody 
 would sing to me when I come home from business." 
 
 '^ You should marry, my lord," said Mr. Neuchatel, ^^and 
 get your wife to sing to you. Is it not so, Miss Ferrars ? By 
 the by, I ought to introduce you to — Lord Roehampton." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 The Earl of Roehampton was the strongest member of the 
 government, except, of course, the premier himself. He was 
 the man from whose combined force and flexibility of charac- 
 ter the country had confidence that in all their councils there 
 would be no lack of courage, yet tempered with adroit discre- 
 tion. Lord Roehampton, though an Englishman, was an Irish 
 peer, and was resolved to remain so, for he fully appreciated 
 the position, which united social distinction with the power of 
 a seat in the House of Commons. He was a very ambitious, 
 and, as it was thought, worldly man, deemed even by many to 
 be unscrupulous, and yet he was romantic. A great favorite 
 in society, and especially with the softer sex, somewhat late in 
 life, he had married suddenly a beautiful woman, who was 
 without fortune, and not a member of the enchanted circle in 
 which he flourished. The union had been successful, for Lord 
 Roehampton was gifted with a sweet temper, and, though peo- 
 ple said he had no heart, with a winning tenderness of disposi- 
 tion or at least of manner which at the same time charmed and 
 soothed. He had been a widower for two years, and the world 
 was of opinion that he ought to marry again, and form this 
 time a becoming alliance. In addition to his many recom- 
 mendations he had now the inestimable reputation, which no 
 one had ever contemplated for him, of having been a good hus- 
 band. 
 
 Berengaria, Countess of Montfort, was a great friend of 
 Lord Roeliamnton. She was accustomed to describe herself 
 
170 ' ENDYMION. 
 
 as "the last of his conquests," and though Lord Roehami3ton 
 read characters and purposes with a glance, and was too saga- 
 cious to be deceived by any one, even by himself, his gratified 
 taste, for he scarcely had vanity, cherished the bright illusion 
 of which he was conscious, and he responded to Lady Montfort 
 half -sportively, half -seriously, with an air of flattered devotion. 
 Lord Roehampton had inherited an ample estate, and he had 
 generally been in ofiBce ; for he served his apprenticeship under 
 Perceval and Liverpool, and changed his party just in time to 
 become a member of the Cabinet of 1831. Yet witii all these 
 advantages, whether it were the habit of his life, which was 
 ever profuse, or that neglect of his private interests which 
 almost inevitably accompanies the absorbing duties of public 
 life, his affairs were always somewhat confused, and Lady Mont- 
 fort, who wished to place him on a pinnacle, had resolved that 
 he should marry an heiress. After long observation and careful 
 inquiry and prolonged reflection, the lady she had fixed upon 
 was Miss Neuchatel ; and she it was who had made Lord Roe- 
 hampton cross the room and address Adriana after her song. 
 
 "He is not young," reasoned Lady Montfort to herself, 
 "but his mind and manner are young, and that is everything. 
 I am sure I meet youth every day who, compared with Lord 
 Roehampton, could have no chance with my sex — men who can 
 neither feel, nor think, nor converse. And then he is famous, 
 and powerful, and fashionable, and knows how to talk to 
 women. And this must all tell with a banker's daughter, 
 dying, of course, to be a grande dame. It will do. He may 
 not be young, but he is irresistible. And the father will like 
 it, for he told me in confidence, at dinner, that he wished Lord 
 Roehampton to be prime minister ; and with this alliance he 
 will be." 
 
 The plot being devised by a fertile brain never wanting in 
 expedients, its development was skillfully managed, and its ac- 
 complishment anticipated with confidence. It was remarkable 
 with what dexterity the Neuchatel family and Lord Roehamp- 
 ton were brought together. Berengaria's lord and master was 
 in the country, which he said he would not quit ; but thi^ did 
 not prevent her giving delightful little dinners and holding 
 
PLOTTING. m 
 
 select assemblies on nights when there was no dreadful House 
 of Commons, and Lord Eoehampton could be present. On 
 most occasions, and especially on these latter ones. Lady Mont- 
 fort could not endure existence without her dear Adriana. 
 Mr. JSTeuchatel, who was a little in the plot, who at least smiled 
 when Berengaria alluded to her enterprise, was not wanting in 
 his contributions to its success. He hardly ever gave one of 
 his famous banquets to which Lord Eoehampton was not in- 
 vited, and, strange to say. Lord Eoehampton, who had the 
 reputation of being somewhat difficult on this head, always 
 accepted the invitations. The crowning social incident, how- 
 ever, was when Lord Eoehampton opened his own house for 
 the first time since his widowhood, and received the Neuchatels 
 at a banquet not inferior to their own. This was a great tri- 
 umph for Lady Montfort, who thought the end was at hand. 
 
 *^ Life is short," she said to Lord Eoehampton that evening. 
 "Why not settle it to-night ?" 
 
 "Well," said Lord Eoehampton, "you know I never like 
 anything precipitate. Besides, why should the citadel sur- 
 render when I have hardly entered on my first parallel ? " 
 
 "Ah ! those are old-fashioned tactics," said Lady Montfort. 
 
 "AYell, I suppose I am an old-fashioned man." 
 
 " Be serious, now. I want it settled before Easter. I must 
 go down to my lord then, and even before ; and I should like 
 to see this settled before we separate." 
 
 "Why does not Montfort come up to town? "said Lord 
 Eoehampton. " He is wanted." 
 
 "W^ell," said Lady Montfort, with half a sigh, "it is no 
 use talking about it. He will not come. Our society bores 
 him, and he must be amused. I write to him every day, and 
 sometimes twice a day, and pass my life in collecting things to 
 interest him. I would never leave him for a moment, only I 
 know then that he would get wearied of me ; and he thinks 
 now — at least, he once said so — that he has never had a dull 
 moment in my company." 
 
 "How can he find amusement in the country ?" said Lord 
 Eoehampton. "There is no sport now, and a man can not 
 always be reading French novels. " 
 
172 ENDYMION. 
 
 " Well, I send amusing people down to him," said Beren- 
 garia. ** It is difiScult to arrange, for he does not like toadies, 
 which is so unreasonable, for I know many toadies who are 
 very pleasant. Treeby is with him now, and that is excellent, 
 for Treeby contradicts him, and is scientific as well as fashion- 
 able, and gives him the last news of the sun as well as of White's. 
 I want to get this great African traveler to go down to him ; 
 but one can hardly send a perfect stranger as a guest. I want- 
 ed Treeby to take him, but Treeby refused — men are so selfish. 
 Treeby could have left him there, and the traveler might have 
 remained a week, told all he had seen, and as much more as 
 he liked. My lord can not stand Treeby more than two days, 
 and Treeby can not stand my lord for a longer period, and that 
 is why they are such friends." 
 
 " A sound basis of agreement," said Lord Roehampton. " I 
 believe absence is often a great element of charm." 
 
 ''But, a nos moutons," resumed Lady Montfort. "You 
 see now why I am so anxious for a conclusion of our affair. I 
 think it is ripe ! " 
 
 " Why do you ? " said Lord Roehampton. 
 
 ''Well, she must be very much in love with you." 
 
 " Has she told you so ? " 
 
 "No ; but she looks in love." 
 
 "She never has told me so," said Lord Roehampton. 
 
 "Have you told her?" 
 
 " Well, I have not," said her companion. " I like the fam- 
 ily — all of them. I like ISfeuchatel particularly. I like his 
 house and style of living. You always meet nice people there, 
 and hear the last thing that has been said or done all over the 
 world. It is a house where you are sure not to be dull." 
 
 "You have described a perfect home," said Lady Montfort, 
 "and it awaits you." 
 
 " Well, I do not know," said Lord Roehampton. " Per- 
 haps I am fastidious, perhaps I am content ; to be noticed 
 sometimes by a Lady Montfort should, I think, satisfy any 
 man." 
 
 "Well, that is gallant, but it is not business, my dear lord. 
 You can count on my devotion even when you are married ; 
 
WALDERSEARE'S RETURK *173 
 
 but I want to see you on a pinnacle, so that if anything hap- 
 pens there shall be no question who is to be the first man in 
 this country." 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 The meeting of Parliament caused also the return of Wal- 
 dershare to England, and brought life and enjoyment to our 
 friends in Warwick Street. Waldershare had not taken his 
 seat in the autumn session. After the general election, he had 
 gone abroad with Lord Beaumaris, the young nobleman who 
 had taken them to the Derby, and they had seen and done 
 many strange things. During all their peregrinations, how- 
 ever, Waldershare maintained a constant correspondence with 
 Imogene, occasionally sending her a choice volume, which she 
 was not only to read, but to prove her perusal of it by forward- 
 ing to him a criticism of its contents. 
 
 Endymion v/as too much pleased to meet Waldershare again, 
 and told him of the kind of intimacy he had formed with Colo- 
 nel Albert and all about the baron. Waldershare was much 
 interested in these details, and it was arranged that an oppor- 
 tunity should be taken to make the colonel and Waldershare 
 acquainted. 
 
 This, however, was not an easy result to bring about, for 
 Waldershare insisted on its not occurring formally, and as the 
 colonel maintained the utmost reserve with the household, 
 and Endymion had no room of reception, weeks passed over 
 without Waldershare knowing more of Colonel Albert person^ 
 ally than sometimes occasionally seeing him mount his horse. 
 
 In the mean time life in Warwick Street, so far as the Rod- 
 ney family were concerned, appeared to have reassumed its 
 pleasant, and what perhaps we are authorized in styling its 
 normal condition. They went to the play two or three times 
 a week, and there Waldershare or Lord Beaumaris, frequently 
 both, always joined them ; and then they came home to sup- 
 per, and then they smoked ; and sometimes there was a little 
 singing, and sometimes a little whist. Occasionally there was 
 
174 EFDTMIOK 
 
 only conversation, that is to say, Waldershare held foi-th, dilat- 
 ing on some wondrous theme, full of historical anecdote and 
 dazzling paradox, and happy phrase. All listened with inter- 
 est, even those who did not understand him. Much of his 
 talk was addressed really to Beaumaris, whose mind he was 
 forming, as well as that of Imogene. Beaumaris was an hered- 
 itary Whig, but had not personally committed himself, and 
 the ambition of Waldershare was to transform him not only 
 into a Tory, but one of the old rock, a real Jacobite. " Is not 
 the Tory party," Waldershare would exclaim, " a succession of 
 heroic spirits, * beautiful and swift,' ever in the van, and fore- 
 most of their age ? — Hobbes and Bolingbroke, Hume and 
 Adam Smith, Wyndham and Cobham, Pitt and Grenville, 
 Canning and Huskisson ? — Are not the principles of Toryism 
 those popular rights which men like Shippin and Hynde Cot- 
 ton flung in the face of an alien monarch and his mushroom 
 aristocracy ? — Place bills, triennial bills, opposition to standing 
 armies, to peerage bills ? — Are not the traditions of the Tory 
 party the noblest pedigree in the world ? Are not its illustra- 
 tions that glorious martyrology, that opens with the name of 
 Falkland and closes with the name of Canning ? " 
 
 "I believe it is all true," whispered Lord Beaumaris to 
 Sylvia, who had really never heard of any of these gentlemen 
 before, but looked most sweet and sympathetic. 
 
 " He is a wonderful man — Mr. Waldershare," said Mr. Vigo 
 to Eodney, **but I fear not practical." 
 
 One day, not very long after his return from his travels, 
 Waldershare went to breakfast with his uncle, Mr. Sidney Wil- 
 ton, now a cabinet minister, still unmarried, and living in 
 Grosvenor Square. Notwithstanding the difference of their 
 politics, an affectionate intimacy subsisted between them ; in- 
 deed, Waldershare was a favorite of his uncle, who enjoyed the 
 freshness of his mind, and quite appreciated his brilliancy of 
 thought and speech, his quaint reading and effervescent imagi- 
 nation. 
 
 **And so you think we are in for life, George," said Mr. 
 Wilton, taking a piece of toast. " I do not." 
 
 " Well, I go upon this," said Waldershare. "It is quite 
 
WALDERSHARE AND HIS UNGLE. 175 
 
 clear that Peel has nothing to offer the country, and the coun- 
 try will not rally round a negation. When he failed in '34 
 they said there had not been sufficient time for the reaction to 
 work. Well now, since then, it has had nearly three years, 
 during which you fellows have done everything to outrage 
 every prejudice of the constituency, and yet they have given 
 you a majority." 
 
 "Yes, that is all very well," replied Mr. Wilton, "but we 
 are the Liberal shop, and we have no Liberal goods on hand ; 
 we are the party of movement and must perforce stand still. 
 The fact is, all the great questions are settled. No one will 
 burn his fingers with the Irish Church again, in this generation 
 certainly not, probably in no other ; you could not get ten men 
 together in any part of the country to consider the corn laws ; 
 I must confess I regret it. I still retain my opinion that a 
 moderate fixed duty would be a wise arrangement, but I quite 
 despair in my time of any such advance of opinion ; as for the 
 ballot, it is hardly tolerated in debating societies. The present 
 government, my dear George, will expire from inanition. I 
 always told the cabinet they were going on too fast. They 
 should have kept back municipal reform. It would have car- 
 ried us on for five years. It was our only piece de resis- 
 tance," 
 
 " I look upon the House of Commons as a mere vestry," 
 said Waldershare. " I believe it to be completely used up. 
 Eeform has dished it. There are no men, and naturally, be- 
 cause the constituencies elect themselves, and the constituencies 
 are the most mediocre of the nation. The House of Commons 
 now is like a spendthrift living on his capital. The business 
 is done and the speeches are made by men formed in the old 
 school. The influence of the House of Commons is mainly 
 kept up by old social traditions. I believe if the eldest sons 
 of peers now members would all accept the Chiltern hundreds, 
 and the house thus cease to be fashionable, before a year was 
 past, it would be as odious and as contemptible as the Eump 
 Parliament." 
 
 " Well, you are now the eldest son of a peer," said Sidney 
 Wilton, smiling. " AYhy do you not set an example, instead of 
 
176 ENDYMION. 
 
 spending your father's substance and your own in fighting a 
 corrupt borough ? " 
 
 *• I am vox claniantis,^' said Waldershare. "I do not de- 
 spair of its being done. But what I want is some big guns to 
 do it. Let the eldest son of a Tory duke and the eldest son of 
 a Whig duke do the thing on the same day, and give the reason 
 why. If Saxmundham, for example, and Harlaxton would do 
 it, the game would be up." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Mr. Wilton, " Saxmundham, I 
 can tell you, will be the new cabinet minister." 
 
 "Degenerate land!" exclaimed Waldershare. **Ah! in 
 the eighteenth century there was always a cause to sustain the 
 political genius of the country — the cause of the rightful dy- 
 nasty ! " 
 
 "Well, thank God, we have got rid of all those troubles," 
 said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 " Kid of them ! I do not know that. I saw a great deal 
 of the Duke of Modena this year, and tried as well as I could 
 to open his mind to the situation." 
 
 " You traitor ! " exclaimed Mr. Wilton. "If I were Sec- 
 retary of State, I would order the butler to arrest you imme- 
 diately, and send you to the Tower in a hack cab ; but as I am 
 only a President of a Board and your uncle, you will escape." 
 
 " Well, I should think all sensible men," said Waldershare, 
 "of all parties will agree, that before we try a republic, it 
 would be better to give a chance to the rightful heir." 
 
 ** Well, I am not a republican," said Mr. Wilton, "and I 
 think Queen Victoria, particularly if she make a wise and 
 happy marriage, need not much fear the Duke of Modena." 
 
 " He is our sovereign lord, all the same," said W^aldershare. 
 "I wish he were more aware of it himself. Instead of looking 
 to a restoration to his throne, I found him always harping on 
 the fear of French invasion. I could not make him under- 
 stand that France was his natural ally, and that without her 
 help, Charlie was not likely to have his own again." 
 
 "Well, as you admire pretenders, George, I wish you were 
 in my shoes this morning, for I have got one of the most disa- 
 greeable interviews on hand v/hich ever fell to my lot." 
 
MR. WILTON'S WARD. 177 
 
 " How so, my dear uncle ? " said Waldersliare, in a tone of 
 sympathy, for he saw that the countenance of Mr. Wilton was 
 disturbed. 
 
 ''My unhappy ward," said Mr. Wilton; ''you know, of 
 course, something about him." 
 
 "Well, I was at school and college," said Waldershare, 
 "when it all happened. But I have just heard that you had 
 relations with him." 
 
 "The most intimate; and there is the bitterness. There 
 existed between his mother Queen Agi-ippina and myself ties 
 of entire friendship. In her last years and in her greatest ad-' 
 versity she appealed to me to be the guardian of her son. He 
 inherited all her beauty and apparently all her sweetness of 
 disposition. I took the greatest pains with him. He was at 
 Eton, and did well there. He was very popular ; I never was 
 so deceived in a boy in my life. I thought him the most do- 
 cile of human beings, and that I had gained over him an entire 
 influence. I am sure it would have been exercised for his bene- 
 fit. In short, I may say it now, I looked upon him as a son, 
 and he certainly would have been my heir ; and yet all this 
 time, from his seventeenth year, he was immersed in political 
 intrigue, and carrying on plots against the sovereign of his 
 country, even under my own roof." 
 
 "How very interesting !" said Waldershare. 
 
 " It may be interesting to you ; I know what it cost me. 
 The greatest anxiety and sorrow, and even nearly compromised 
 my honor. Had I not a large-hearted chief and a true man of 
 the world to deal with, I must have retired from the govern- 
 ment." 
 
 "How could he manage it ?" said Waldershare. 
 
 ' ' You have no conception of the devices and resources of 
 ihe secret societies of Europe," said Mr. Wilton. "His draw- 
 ing master, his fencing master, his dancing master, all his pro- 
 fessors of languages, who delighted me by their testimony to 
 his accomplishments and their praises of his quickness and as- 
 siduity, were active confederates in bringing about events which 
 might have occasioned a European war. He left me avowedly 
 to pay a visit in the country, and I even received letters from 
 
178 ENDYmON. 
 
 him witli the postmark of the neighboring town ; letters all 
 prepared beforehand. My first authentic information as to his 
 movements was to learn, that he had headed an invading force, 
 landed on the shores which he claimed as his own, was defeated 
 and a prisoner." 
 
 *'I remember it," said Waldershare. "I had just then 
 gone up to St. John's, and I remember reading it with the 
 greatest excitement." 
 
 "All this was bad enough," said Mr. Wilton, "but this is 
 not my sorrow. I saved him from death, or at least a dreadful 
 imprisonment. He was permitted to sail to America on his 
 parole that he would never return to Europe, and I was re- 
 quired, and on his solemn appeal I consented, to give my per- 
 sonal engagement that the compact should be sacred. Before 
 two years had elapsed, supported all this time, too, by my 
 bounty, there was an attempt, almost successful, to assassinate 
 the king, and my ward was discovered and seized in the capital. 
 This time he was immured, and for life, in the strongest for- 
 tress of the country ; but secret societies laugh at governments, 
 and though he endured a considerable imprisonment, the world 
 has recently been astounded by hearing that he had escaped. 
 Yes ; he is in London and has been here, though in studied 
 obscurity, for some little time. He has never appealed to me 
 until within these few days, and now only on the ground that 
 there are some family affairs which can not be arranged 
 without my approval. I had great doubts whether I should 
 receive him. I feel I ought not to have done so. But I 
 hesitated, and I know not what may be the truth about 
 women, but of this I am quite sure, the man who hesitates is 
 lost." 
 
 "How I should like to be present at the interview, my 
 dear uncle," said Waldershare. 
 
 "And I should not be sorry to have a witness," said Mr. 
 Wilton, " but it is impossible. I am ashamed to say how un- 
 hinged I feel ; no person, and no memories, ought to exercise 
 such an influence over one. To tell you the truth, I encour- 
 aged your pleasant gossip at breakfast by way of distraction at 
 this moment, and now — " 
 
PRINCE FLORESTAN. 179 
 
 At this moment, the groom of the chambers entered and 
 announced "His royal highness, Prince Florestan." 
 
 Mr. Wilton, who was too agitated to speak, waved his hand 
 to Waldershare to retire, and his nephew vanished. As Wal- 
 dershare was descending the staircase, he drew back on a land- 
 ing-place to permit the prince to advance undisturbed. The 
 prince apparently did not observe him, but when Waldershare 
 caught the countenance of the visitor, he started. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 *'I Kis^ow, sir, you are prejudiced against me," said Prince 
 Florestan, bowing before Mr. Wilton with a sort of haughty 
 humility, *^and, therefore, I the more appreciate your con- 
 descension in receiving me." 
 
 " I have no wish to refer to the past," said Mr. Wilton, 
 somewhat sternly. " You mentioned in your letter that my 
 cooperation was necessary with reference to your private affairs, 
 of which I once was a trustee, and under those circumstances 
 I felt it my duty to accede to your request. I wish our com- 
 munication to be limited to that business." 
 
 "It shall be so strictly," said the prince; "you may re- 
 member, sir, that at the unhappy period when we were deprived 
 of our throne, the name of Queen Agrippina was inscribed on 
 the great book of the state for a considerable sum, for which 
 the credit of the state was pledged to her. It was strictly her 
 private property, and had mainly accrued through the sale of 
 the estates of her ancestors. This sum was confiscated, and 
 several other amounts, which belonged to members of our house 
 and to our friends. It was an act of pure rapine, so gross, that 
 as time revolved, and the sense of justice gradually returned to 
 the hearts of men, restitution was made in every instance ex- 
 cept my own, though I have reason to believe that individual 
 case was the strongest. My bankers, the house of Neuchatel, 
 who have much interested themselves in this matter, and have 
 considerable influence with the government that succeeded us. 
 
180 ENDTMION. 
 
 have brought things to this pass, that we have reason to believe 
 our claim would be conceded, if some of the foreign govern- 
 ments, and especially the government of this country, would 
 signify that the settlement would not be disagreeable to them." 
 And the prince ceased, and raising his eyes, which were down- 
 cast as he spoke, looked Mr. Wilton straight in the face. 
 
 " Before such a proposal could even be considered by Her 
 Majesty's Government," said Mr. Wilton with a reddening 
 cheek, "the intimation must be made to them by authority. 
 If the minister of your country has such an intimation to make 
 to ours, he should address himself to the proper quarter, to 
 Lord Roehampton." 
 
 ** I understand," said Prince Florestan ; " but governments, 
 like individuals, sometinies shrink from formality. The gov- 
 ernment of my country will act on the intimation, but they do 
 not care to make it an affair of dispatches." 
 
 ** There is only one way of transacting business," said Mr. 
 Wilton, frigidly, and as if, so far as he was concerned, the in- 
 terview was ended. 
 
 "I have been advised on high authority," said Prince 
 Florestan, speaking very slowly, ** that if any member of the 
 present cabinet will mention in conversation to the representa- 
 tive of my country here, that the act of justice would not be 
 disagreeable to the British Government, the affair is finished." 
 
 " I doubt whether any one of my colleagues would be pre- 
 pared to undertake a personal interference of that kind with a 
 foreign government," said Mr. Wilton, stiffly. "For my own 
 part, I have had quite enough of such interpositions never to 
 venture on them again. " 
 
 "The expression of feeling desired would involve no sort 
 of engagement," said the imperturbable prince. 
 
 " That depends on the conscience of the individual who in- 
 terferes. No man of honor would be justified in so interposing 
 if he believed he was thus furnishing arms against the very 
 government of which he solicited the favor." 
 
 " But why should he believe this ? " asked the prince with 
 great calmness. 
 
 " I think, upon reflection," said Mr. Wilton, taking up at 
 
THE CHILD OF DESTINY. 181 
 
 the same time an opened letter which was before him, as if he 
 wished to resume the private business on which he had been pre- 
 viously engaged, *'that your royal highness might find very 
 adequate reasons for the belief." 
 
 ^^I would put this before you with great deference, sir," 
 said the prince. '^Take my own case ; is it not more likely 
 that I should lead that life of refined retirement, which I really 
 desire, were I in possession of the means to maintain such a 
 position with becoming dignity, than if I were distressed, and 
 harassed, and disgusted, every day, with sights and incidents 
 which alike outrage my taste and self-respect ? It is not pros- 
 perity, according to common belief, that makes conspirators." 
 
 "You were in a position, and a refined position," rejoined 
 Mr. Wilton sharply ; "you had means adequate to all that a 
 gentleman could desire, and might have been a person of great 
 consideration, and you wantonly destroyed all this." 
 
 "It might be remembered that I was young." 
 
 "Yes, you were young, very young, and your folly was 
 condoned. You might have began life again, for to the world 
 at least you were a man of honor. You had not deceived the 
 world, whatever jow. might have done to others." 
 
 "If I presume to make another remark," said the prince, 
 calmly, but pale, " it is only, believe me, sir, from the profound 
 respect I feel for you. Do not misunderstand these feelings, 
 sir. They are not unbecoming the past. Now that my mother 
 has departed, there is no one to whom I am attached except 
 yourself. I have no feeling whatever toward any other human 
 i3eing. All my thought and all my sentiment are engrossed by 
 my country. But pardon me, dear sir, for so let me call you, 
 if I venture to say that, in your decision on my conduct, you 
 have never taken into consideration the position which I in- 
 herited." 
 
 "I do not follow you, sir." 
 
 " You never will remember, that I am the child of destiny," 
 caid Prince Florestan. " That destiny will again place me on 
 the throne of my fathers. That is as certain as I am now 
 speaking to you. But destiny for its fulfillment ordains action. 
 Its decrees are inexorable, but they are obscure, and the being 
 
182 ENDYMION, 
 
 whose career it directs is as a man traveling in a dark night ; 
 he reaches his goal even without the aid of stars or moon." 
 
 '* I really do not understand what destiny means," said Mr. 
 Wilton. *' I understand what conduct means, and I recognize 
 that it should be regulated by truth and honor. I think a man 
 had better have nothing to do with destiny, particularly if it is 
 to make him forfeit his parole." 
 
 "Ah ! sir, I well know that on that head you entertain a 
 great prejudice in my respect. Believe me, it is not just. Even 
 lawyers acknowledge that a contract which is impossible can 
 not be violated. My return from America was inevitable. The 
 aspirations of a great people and of many communities required 
 my presence in Europe. My return was the natural develop- 
 ment of the irresistible principle of historical necessity." 
 
 " Well, that principle is not recognized by Her Majesty's 
 Ministers," said Mr. Wilton, and both himself and the prince 
 seemed to rise at the same time. 
 
 **I thank you, sir, for this interview," said his royal high- 
 ness. " You will not help me, but what I require will happen 
 by some other means. It is necessary, and therefore it will 
 occur." 
 
 The prince remounted his horse, and rode off quickly till 
 he reached the Strand, where obstacles to rapid progress com- 
 menced, and though impatient, it was some time before he 
 reached Bishopsgate Street. He entered the spacious court- 
 yard of a noble mansion, and giving his horse to the groom, 
 inquired for Mr. Neuchatel, to whom he was at once ushered 
 — seated in a fine apartment at a table covered with many 
 papers. 
 
 "Well, my prince," said Mr. Neuchatel, with a smiling 
 eye, "what brings such a great man into the City to-day? 
 Have you seen your great friend?" And then Prince Flo- 
 restan gave Mr. Neuchatel a succinct but sufficient summary of 
 his recent interview. 
 
 "Ah !" said Mr. Neuchatel, "so it is, so it is ; I dare say 
 if you were received at St. James', Mr. Sidney Wilton would 
 not be so very particular ; but we must take things as we find 
 them. If our fine friends will not help us, you must try us 
 
A WONDROUS TALE. 183 
 
 poor business men in the City. "We can manage things here 
 sometimes which puzzle them at the West End. I saw you 
 were disturbed when you came in. Put on a good countenance. 
 Nobody should ever look anxious except those who have no 
 anxiety. I dare say you would like to know how your account 
 is. I will send for it. It is not so bad as you think. I put a 
 thousand pounds to it in the hopes that your fine friend would 
 help us, but I shall not take it off again. My Louis is going 
 to-night to Paris, and he shall call upon the ministers and sec 
 what can be done. In the mean time, good appetite, sir. I 
 am going to luncheon, and there is a place for you. And I 
 will show you my Gainsborough that I have just bought, from 
 a family for whom it was painted. The face is divine, very 
 like our Miss Ferrars. I am going to send the picture down 
 to Hainault. I won't tell you what I gave for it, because per- 
 haps you would tell my wife and she would be very angry. 
 She would wani? the money for an infant school. But I think 
 she has schools enough. Now to lunch." 
 
 On the afternoon of this day there was half-holiday at the 
 office, and Endymion had engaged to accompany Waldershare 
 on some expedition. They had been talking together in his 
 room where Waldershare was finishing his careless toilet, 
 which however was never finished, and they had just opened 
 the house-door and were sallying forth when Colonel Albert 
 rode up. He gave a kind nod to Endymion but did not speak, 
 and the companions went on. " By the by, Ferrars," said Wal- 
 dershare, pressing his arm and bubbling with excitement, "I 
 have found out who your colonel is. It is a wondrous tale and 
 I will tell it all to you as we go on." 
 
 CHAPTEE XLII. 
 
 Endymion' had now passed three years of his life in Lon- 
 don, and considering the hard circumstances under which he 
 had commenced this career, he might on the whole look back 
 to those years without dissatisfaction. Three years ago he was 
 
184 ENDYMION, 
 
 poor and friendless, utterly ignorant of the world, and with 
 nothing to guide him but his own good sense. His slender 
 salary had not yet been increased, but with the generosity and 
 aid of his sister and the liberality of Mr. Vigo, he was easy in 
 his circumstances. Through the Rodneys, he had become ac- 
 quainted with a certain sort of miscellaneous life, a knowledge 
 of which is highly yaluable to a youth, but which is seldom at- 
 tained without risk. Endymion, on the contrary, was always 
 guarded from danger. Through his most unexpected connec- 
 tion with the Neuchatel family, he had seen something of life 
 in circles of refinement and high consideration, and had even 
 caught glimpses of that great world of which he read so much 
 and heard people talk more, the world of the Lord Roehamp- 
 tons and the Lady Montforts, and all those dazzling people 
 whose sayings and doings form the taste, and supply the con- 
 versation, and leaven the existence of admiring or wondering 
 millions. 
 
 None of these incidents, however, had induced any change 
 in the scheme of his existence. Endymion was still content 
 with his cleanly and airy garret ; still dined at Joe's ; was still 
 sedulous at his office, and always popular with his fellow- 
 clerks. Seymour Hicks, indeed, who studied the "Morning 
 Post " with intentness, had discovered the name of Endymion 
 in the elaborate lists of attendants on Mrs. Neuchatel's recep- 
 tions, and had duly notified the important event to his col- 
 lea^ies ; but Endymion was not severely bantered on the occa- 
 sion, for, since the withdrawal of St. Barbe from the bureau, 
 the stock of envy at Somerset House was sensibly diminished. 
 
 His lodgings at the Rodneys, however, had brought Endym- 
 ion something more valuable than an innocuous familiarity 
 with their various and suggestive life. In the friendship of 
 Waldershare, he found a rich compensation for being withdrawn 
 from his school and deprived of his University. The care of 
 his father had made Endymion a good classical scholar, and he 
 had realized a degree of culture which it delighted the brilliant 
 and eccentric Waldershare to enrich and to complete. Walder- 
 share guided his opinions, and directed his studies, and formed 
 his taste. Alone at night in his garret, there was no solitude. 
 
INFLUENTIAL ACQUAINTANCES, 185 
 
 for he had always some book or some periodical, English or 
 foreign, with which "VValdershare had supplied him, and which 
 he assured Endymion it was absolutely necessary that he should 
 read and master. 
 
 Nor was his acquaintance with Baron Sergius less yaluable, 
 or less fruitful of results. He too became interested in En- 
 dymion, and poured forth to him, apparently without reserve, 
 all the treasures of his yast experience of men and things, 
 especially with reference to the conduct of external affairs. 
 He initiated him in the cardinal principles of the policies of 
 different nations ; he revealed to him the real character of the 
 chief actors in the scene. ** The first requisite," Baron Sergius 
 would say, " in the successful conduct of public affairs is a 
 personal acquaintance with the statesmen engaged. It is pos- 
 sible that events may not depend now, so much as they did a 
 century ago, on individual feeling, but, even if prompted by 
 general principles, their application and management are al- 
 ways colored by the idiosyncrasy of the chief actors. The 
 great advantage which your Lord Eoehampton, for example, 
 has over all his colleagues in la haute politique, is that he was 
 one of your plenipotentiaries at the Congress of Vienna. 
 There he learned to gauge the men who govern the world. 
 Do you think a man like that, called upon to deal with a Met- 
 ternich or a Pozzo, has no advantage over an individual who 
 never leaves his chair in Downing Street except to kill grouse ? 
 Pah ! Metternich and Pozzo know very well that Lord Eoe- 
 hampton knows them, and they set about affairs with him in a 
 totally different spirit from that with which they circumvent 
 some statesman who has issued from the barricades of Paris." 
 
 Nor must it be forgotten that his debating society and the 
 acquaintance which he had formed there, were highly bene- 
 ficial to Endymion. Under the roof of Mr. Bertie Tremaine 
 he enjoyed the opportunity of forming an acquaintance with a 
 large body of young men of breeding, of high education, and 
 full of ambition, that was a substitute for the society, becom- 
 ing his youth and station, which he had lost by not going to 
 the University. 
 
 With all these individuals, and with all their circles. En- 
 
186 ENDYmON. 
 
 dymion was a favorite. No doubt his good looks, his mien — 
 which was both cheerful and pensive, his graceful and quiet 
 manners, all told in his favor, and gave him a good start, but 
 further acquaintance always sustained the first impression. 
 He was intelligent and well-informed, without any alarming 
 originality, or too positive convictions. He listened not only 
 with patience but with interest to all,. and ever avoided con- 
 troversy. Here are some of the elements of a man's popu- 
 larity. 
 
 What was his intellectual reach, and what his real character, 
 it was difficult at this time to decide. He was still very young, 
 only on the verge of his twentieth year ; and his character had 
 no doubt been influenced, it might be suppressed, by the crush- 
 ing misfortunes of his family. The influence of his sister was 
 supreme over him. She had never reconciled herself to their 
 fall. She had existed only on the solitary idea of regaining 
 their position, and she had never omitted an occasion to im- 
 press upon him that he had a great mission, and that, aided by 
 her devotion, he would fulfill it. What his own conviction on 
 this subject was may be obscure. Perhaps he was organically 
 of that cheerful and easy nature, which is content to enjoy the 
 present, and not brood over the past. The future may throw 
 light upon all these points ; at present it may be admitted that 
 the three years of seemingly bitter and mortifying adversity 
 bave not been altogether wanting in beneficial elements in the 
 formation of his character and the fashioning of his future life. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 Lady Montfort heard with great satisfaction from Mr. 
 Neuchatel that Lord Eoehampton was going to pay a visit to 
 Hainault at Easter, and that he had asked himself. She play- 
 fully congratulated Mrs. Neuchatel on the subject, and spoke 
 as if the affair was almost concluded. That lady, however, 
 received the intimation with a serious, not to say distressed, 
 countenance. She said she should be grieved to lose Adriana 
 
LADY MONTFOET AT WORK. 187 
 
 under any circumstances ; but if her marriage in time was a 
 necessity, she trusted she might be united to some one who 
 would not object to becoming a permanent inmate of their 
 house. What she herself desired for her daughter was a union 
 with some clergyman, and if possible, the rector of their own 
 parish. But it was too charming a dream to realize. The 
 rectory at Hainault was almost in the Park, and was the pret- 
 tiest house in the world, with the most lovely garden. She 
 herself much preferred it to the great mansion — and so on. 
 
 Lady Montfort stared at her with impatient astonishment, 
 and then said, "Your daughter, Mrs. Neuchatel, ought to 
 make an alliance which would place her at the head of so- 
 ciety." 
 
 " What a fearful destiny," said Mrs. Neuchatel, " for any 
 one, but overwhelming for one who must feel the whole time 
 that she occupies a position not acquired by her personal qual- 
 ities." 
 
 "Adriana is pretty," said Lady Montfort. *^I think her 
 more than pretty ; she is highly accomplished, and in every 
 way pleasing. What can you mean, then, my dear madam, by 
 supposing she would occupy a position not acquired by her per- 
 sonal qualities ? " 
 
 Mrs. Neuchatel sighed and shook her head, and then said, 
 " We need not have a controversy on this subject. I have no 
 reason to believe there is any foundation for my fears. We all 
 like and admire Lord Roehampton. It is impossible not to 
 admire and like him. So great a man, and yet so gentle and 
 so kind, so unaffected — I would say so unsophisticated ; but he 
 has never given the slightest intimation either to me or her 
 father that he seriously admired Adriana, and I am sure if he 
 had said anything to her she would have told us." 
 
 "He is always here," said Lady Montfort, " and he is a 
 man who used to go nowhere except for form. Besides, I 
 know that he admires her, that he is in love with her, and I 
 have not a doubt that he has invited himself to Hainault in 
 order to declare his feelings to her." 
 
 " How very dreadful ! " exclaimed Mrs. Neuchatel. " What 
 are we to do ? " 
 
188 ENDYMIOK 
 
 " To do," said Lady Montfort ; '* why, sympathize with 
 his happiness, and complete it. You will have a son-in-law of 
 whom you may well be proud, and Adriana a husband who, 
 thoroughly knowing the world, and women, and himself, will 
 be devoted to her ; will be a guide and friend, a guide that 
 will never lecture, and a friend who will always charm, for 
 there is no companion in the world like him, and I think I 
 ought to know," added Lady Montfort, *' for I always tell him 
 I was the last of his conquests, and I shall ever be grateful to 
 him for his having spared to me so much of his society." 
 
 ** Adriana on this matter will decide for herself," said Mrs. 
 Neuchatel, in a serious tone, and with a certain degree of dig- 
 nity. " Neither Mr. Neuchatel nor myself have ever attempted 
 to control her feelings in this respect." 
 
 " Well, I am now about to see Adriana," said Lady Mont- 
 fort ; " I know she is at home. If I had not been obliged to 
 go to Princedown I vrould have asked you to let me pass Easter 
 at Hainault myself." 
 
 On this very afternoon, when Myra, who had been walking 
 in Regent's Park with her brother, returned home, she found 
 Adriana agitated, and really in tears. 
 
 " What is all this, dearest ?" inquired her friend. '^ I am 
 too unhappy," sobbed Adriana, and then she told Myra that 
 she had had a visit from Lady Montfort, and all that had oc- 
 curred in it. Lady Montfort had absolutely congratulated her 
 on her approaching alliance with Lord Roehampton, and when 
 she altogether disclaimed it, and expressed her complete aston- 
 ishment at the supposition, Lady Montfort had told her she 
 was not justified in ^ '"ving Lord Roehampton so much encour- 
 agement and trifling. i^ith a man of his high character and 
 position. 
 
 " Fancy my giving encouragement to Lord Roehampton," 
 exclaimed Adriana, and she threw her arms round the neck of 
 the friend who was to console her. 
 
 "I agree with Lady Montfort," said Myra, releasing her- 
 self with gentleness from her distressed friend. " It may have 
 been unconsciously on your part, but I think you have encour- 
 aged Lord Roehampton. He is constantly conversing with 
 
MYBA AND ADRIANA. 189 
 
 you, and he is always here, where he never was before, 
 and, as Lady Montfort says, why should he have asked him- 
 self to pass the Easter at Hainault if it were not for your 
 society ? " 
 
 *^IIe invited himself to Hainault, because he is so fond of 
 papa," said Adriana. 
 
 ^' So much the better, if he is to be your husband. That 
 will be an additional element of domestic happiness." 
 
 " Oh, Myra ! that you should say such things ! " exclaimed 
 Adriana. 
 
 *^ What things?" 
 
 '^That I should marry Lord Roehampton." 
 
 *^I never said anything of the kind. Whom you should 
 marry is a question you must decide for yourself. All that I 
 said was, that if you marry Lord Eoehampton, it is fortunate 
 he is so much liked by Mr. ;N"euchatel. " 
 
 **I shall not marry Lord Roehampton," said Adriana, with 
 some determin£ttion, " and if he has condescended to think of 
 marrying me," she continued, ^' as Lady Montfort says, I think 
 his motives are so obvious that if I felt for him any preference 
 it would be immediately extinguished." 
 
 *' Ah ! now you are going to ride your hobby, my dear 
 Adriana. On that subject we never can agree ; were I an heir- 
 ess, I should have as little objection to be married for my for- 
 tune as my face. Husbands, as I have heard, do not care for 
 the latter too long. Have more confidence in yourself, Adriana. 
 If Lord Roehampton wishes to marry you, it is that he is pleased 
 with you personally, that he appreciates your intelligence, your 
 culture, your accomplishments, yourswee^ disposition, and your 
 gentle nature. If in addition to these'^ifts you have wealth, 
 and even great wealth. Lord Roehampton will not despise it, 
 will not — for I wish to put it frankly — ^be uninfluenced by the 
 circumstances, for Lord Roehampton is a wise man ; but he 
 would not marry you if he did not believe that you would make 
 for him a delightful companion in life, that you would adorn 
 his circle and illustrate his name." 
 
 *^ Ah ! I see you are all in the plot against me," said Adriana. 
 " I have no friend." 
 
190 ENDYMION. 
 
 " My dear Adriana, I think you are unreasonable ; I could 
 say even unkind." 
 
 "Oh ! pardon me, dear Myra," said Adriana, "but I really 
 am so very unhappy." 
 
 " About what ? You are your own mistress in this matter. 
 If you do not like to marry Lord Roehampton nobody will at- 
 tempt to control you. What does it signify what Lady Mont- 
 fort says, or anybody else, except your own parents, who desire 
 nothing but your happiness ? I should never have mentioned 
 Lord Roehampton to you had you not introduced the subject 
 yourself. And all that I meant to say was, what I repeat, that 
 your creed that no one can wish to marry you except for your 
 wealth is a morbid conviction, and must lead to unhappiness ; 
 that I do not believe that Lord Roehampton is influenced in 
 his overture, if he make one, by any unworthy motive, and 
 that any woman whose heart is disengaged should not lightly 
 repudiate such an advance from such a man, by which at all 
 events, she should feel honored." 
 
 "But my heart is engaged," said Adriana, in an almost sol- 
 emn tone. 
 
 "Oh ! that is quite a different thing !" said Myra, turning 
 pale. 
 
 " Yes ! " said Adriana ; " I am devoted to one whose name 
 I can not now mention, perhaps will never mention, but I am 
 devoted to him. Yes ! " she added with fire, " I am not alto- 
 gether so weak a thing as the Lady Montforts and some other 
 persons seem to think me — I can feel and decide for myself, 
 and it shall never be said of me that I purchased love." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 There was to be no great party at Hainault ; Lord Roe- 
 hampton particularly wished that there should be no fine folks 
 asked, and especially no ambassadors. All that he wanted was 
 to enjoy the fresh air, and to ramble in the forest, of which he 
 had heard so much, with the young ladies. 
 
%'FORM' 
 
 MORAL ARITHMETIC. 191 
 
 [M;l)y the by, Miss Ferrars," said Mr. Neuchatel, ^^ we 
 must let what we were talking about the other day drop. 
 Adriana has been with me quite excited about something Lady 
 Montfort said to her. I soothed her and assured her she should 
 do exactly as she liked, and that neither I nor her mother had 
 any other wishes on such a subject than her own. The fact is, 
 I answered Lady Montfort originally only half in earnest. If 
 the thing might have happened, I should have been content — 
 but it really never rested on my mind, because such matters 
 must always originate with my daughter. Unless they come 
 from her, with me they are mere fancies. But now I want 
 you to help me in another matter, if not more grave, more 
 business-like. My lord must be amused, although it is a family 
 party. He likes his rubber T that we can manage. But there 
 must be two or three persons that he is not accustomed to 
 meet, and yet who will interest him. Now, do you know, 
 Miss Ferrars, whom I think of asking ? " 
 
 "Not I, my dear sir." 
 
 '^What do you think of the colonel ?" said Mr. Neuchatel, 
 looking in her face with a rather laughing eye. 
 
 " Well, he is very agreeable," said Myra, " and many would 
 think interesting, and if Lord Eoehampton does not know 
 him, I think he would do very well." 
 
 " Well, but Lord Eoehampton knows all about him," said 
 Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 " Well, that is an advantage," said Myra. 
 
 "I do not know," said Mr. Neuchatel. "Life is a very 
 curious thing, eh. Miss Ferrars ? One can not ask one person 
 to meet another even in one's own home, without going 
 through a sum of moral arithmetic." 
 
 "Is it so ?" said Myra. 
 
 "Well, Miss Ferrars," said Mr. Neuchatel, "I want your 
 advice and I want your aid ; but then it is a long story, at which 
 I am rather a bad hand," and Mr. Neuchatel hesitated. " You 
 know," he said, suddenly resuming, "you once asked me who 
 Colonel Albert was." 
 
 "But I do not ask you now," said Myra, "because I know." 
 
 " Hah, hah ! " exclaimed Mr. Neuchatel, much surprised. 
 
192 END YM I ON. 
 
 **And what you want to know is," continued Myra, 
 "whether Lord Eoehampton would have any objection to meet 
 Prince Florestan ? " 
 
 " That is something ; but that is comparatively easy. I 
 think I can manage that. But when they meet — that is the 
 point. But, in the first place, I should like very much to know 
 how you became acquainted with the secret. " 
 
 " In a very natural way ; my brother was my informant,*' 
 she replied. 
 
 "Ah ! now you see," continued Mr. Neuchatel, with a se- 
 rious air, "a word from Lord Roehampton in the proper quarter 
 might be of vast importance to the prince. He has a large in- 
 heritance, and has been kept out of it unjustly. Our house 
 has done what we could for him, for his mother. Queen Agrip- 
 pina, was very kind to my father, and the house of Neuchatel 
 never forgets its friends. But we Want something else, we 
 want the British Government to intimate that they will not 
 disapprove of the restitution of the private fortune of the 
 prince. I have felt my way with the premier ; he is not favor- 
 able ; he is prejudiced against the prince ; and so is the cabinet 
 generally ; and yet all difficulties would vanish at a word from 
 Lord Roehampton." 
 
 " Well, this is a good opportunity for you to speak to him," 
 said Myra. 
 
 " Hem ! " said Mr. Neuchatel, " I am not so sure about that. 
 I like Lord Roehampton, and, between ourselves, I wish he were 
 first minister. He understands the Continent, and would keep 
 things quiet. But, do you know. Miss Ferrars, with all his 
 playful, good-tempered manner, as if he could not say a cross 
 word or do an unkind act, he is a very severe man in business. 
 Speak to him on business, and he is completely changed. His 
 brows knit, he penetrates you with the terrible scrutiny of that 
 deep-set eye ; he is more than stately, he is austere. I have 
 been up to him with deputations — the Governor of the Bank, 
 and all the first men in the City, half of them M.Ps., and they 
 trembled before him like aspens. No, it will not do for me to 
 speak to him, it will spoil his visit. I think the way will be this ; 
 if he has no objection to meet the prince, we must watch wheth- 
 
A DELIGHTFUL PARTY, 193 
 
 er the prince makes a favorable impression on him, and if that 
 is the case, and Lord Koehampton likes him, what we must do 
 next is this — you must speak to Lord Koehampton." 
 
 "I!" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Ferrars, you. Lord Eoehampton likes ladies. 
 He is never austere to them, even if he refuses their requests, 
 and sometimes he grants them. I thought first of Mrs. Neu- 
 chatel speaking to him, but my wife will never interfere in 
 anything in which money is concerned ; then I thought Adri- 
 ana might express a hope when they were walking in the gar- 
 den, but, now that is all over ; and so you alone remain. I 
 have great confidence in you," added Mr. Neuchatel, '* I think 
 you would do it very well. Besides, my lord rather likes you, 
 for I have observed him often go and sit by you at parties, at 
 our house." 
 
 "Yes, he is very high-bred in that," said Myra, gravely 
 and rather sadly ; "and the fact of my being a dependent, I 
 have no doubt, influences him." 
 
 " We are all dependents in this house," said Mr. Neuchatel, 
 with his sweetest smile ; "and I depend upon Miss Ferrars." 
 
 Affairs on the whole went on in a promising manner. The 
 weather was delightful, and Lord Koehampton came down to 
 Ilainault just in time for dinner, the day after their arrival, 
 and in the highest spirits. He seemed to be enjoying a real 
 holiday ; body and mind were in a like state of expansion ; he 
 was enchanted with the domain ; he was delighted with the 
 mansion, everything pleased and gratified him, and he pleased 
 and gratified everybody. The party consisted only of them- 
 selves, except one of the nephews, with whom indeed Lord 
 Koehampton was already acquainted ; a lively youth, a little 
 on the turf, not too much, and this suited Lord Koehampton, 
 who was a statesman of the old aristocratic school, still bred 
 horses, and sometimes ran one, and in the midst of a Euro- 
 pean crisis could spare an hour to Newmarket, Perhaps it 
 was his only affectation. 
 
 Mrs. Neuchatel, by wjiom he was seated, had the happy 
 gift of conversation ; but the party was of that delightful di- 
 mension, that it permitted talk to be general. Myra sat next 
 
194 ENDYMIOK 
 
 to Lord Eoehampton, and he often addressed her. He was 
 the soul of the feast, and yet it is difficult to describe his con- 
 versation ; it was a medley of graceful whim, interspersed now 
 and then with a very short anecdote of a very famous person, 
 or some deeply interesting reminiscence of some critical event. 
 Every now and then he appealed to Adriana, who sat opposite 
 to him in the round table, and she trusted that her irrepres- 
 sible smiles would not be interpreted into undue encourage- 
 ment. 
 
 Lord Roehampton had no objection to meet Prince Flores- 
 tan, provided there were no other strangers, and the incognito 
 was observed. He rather welcomed the proposal, observing he 
 liked to know public men personally ; so, you can judge of 
 their caliber, which you never can do from books and news- 
 papers, or the oral reports of their creatures or their enemies. 
 And so on the next day Colonel Albert was expected. 
 
 Lord Roehampton did not appear till luncheon ; he had 
 received so many boxes from Downing Street which required 
 his attention. ** Business will follow one," he said ; *' yester- 
 day I thought I had baffled it. I do not know what I shall do 
 without my secretaries. I think I shall get you young ladies 
 to assist me." 
 
 *' You can not have better secretaries," said Mr. Neuchatel ; 
 *'Miss Ferrars often helps me." 
 
 Then what was to be done after luncheon ? Would he ride, 
 or would he drive ? And where should they drive and ride to ? 
 But Lord Roehampton did not much care to drive, and was 
 tired of riding. He would rather walk and ramble about Hai- 
 nault. He wanted to see the place, and the forest and the fern, 
 and perhaps hear one of those nightingales that they had talked 
 of in Portland Place. But Mrs. Neuchatel did not care to 
 walk, and Mr. Neuchatel, though it was a holiday in the City, 
 had a great many letters to write, and so somehow or other it 
 ended in Lord Roehampton and the two young ladies walking 
 out together, and remaining so long and so late, that Mrs Neu- 
 chatel absolutely contemplated postponing the dinner hour. 
 
 "We shall just be in time, dear Mrs. Neuchatel," said 
 Myra ; *' Lord Roehampton has gone up to his room. We have 
 
AT DINNER. 195 
 
 heard a nightingale, and Lord Roehampton insisted upon our 
 sitting on the trunk of a tree till it ceased — and it never ceased." 
 
 Colonel Albert, who had arrived, was presented to Lord 
 Roehampton before dinner. Lord Roehampton received him 
 with stately courtesy. As Myra watched, not without inter- 
 est, the proceeding, she could scarcely believe, as she marked 
 the lofty grace and somewhat haughty mien of Lord Roehamp- 
 ton, that it could be the same being of frolic and fancy, and 
 even tender sentiment, with whom she had been passing the 
 preceding hours. 
 
 Colonel Albert sat next to Myra at dinner, and Lord Roe- 
 hampton between Mrs. Neuchatel and her daughter. His 
 manner was different to-day, not less pleased and pleasing, but 
 certainly more restrained. He encouraged Mrs. Neuchatel to 
 occupy the chief part in conversation, and whispered to Adriana, 
 who became somewhat uneasy ; but the whispers mainly con- 
 sisted of his delight in their morning adventures. When he 
 remarked that it was one of the most agreeable days of his life, 
 she became a little alarmed. Then he addressed Colonel Albert 
 across the table, and said that he had heard from Mr. Neuchatel, 
 that the colonel had been in America, and asked some questions 
 about public men, which brought him out. Colonel Albert 
 answered with gentleness and modesty, never at any length, 
 but in language which indicated, on all the matters referred 
 to, thought and discrimination. 
 
 " I suppose their society is like the best society in Manches- 
 ter ? " said Lord Roehampton. 
 
 " It varies in different cities," said Colonel Albert. ^' In 
 some there is considerable culture, and then refinement of life 
 always follows." 
 
 *' Yes, but whatever they may be, they will always be co- 
 lonial. What is colonial necessarily lacks originality. A coun- 
 try that borrows its language, its laws, and its religion, can 
 not have its inventive powers much developed. They got civ- 
 ilized very soon, but their civilization was second-hand." 
 
 "Perhaps their inventive powers may develop themselves 
 in other ways," said the prince. *' A nation has a fixed quan- 
 tity of invention, and it will make itself felt." 
 
196 ENDYMIOK 
 
 ^'At present," said Lord Roehampton, *'the Americans, I 
 tliink, employ their invention in imaginary boundary lines. 
 They are giving us plenty of trouble now about Maine." 
 
 After dinner, they had some music ; Lord Roehampton 
 would not play whist. He insisted on comparing the voices of 
 his companions with that of the nightingale of the morning. 
 He talked a great deal to Adriana, and Colonel Albert, in the 
 course of the evening much to Myra, and about her brother. 
 Lord Roehampton more than once had wished to tell her, as 
 he had already told Miss Neuchatel, how delightful had been 
 their morning ; but on every occasion he had found her en- 
 gaged with the colonel. 
 
 "I rather like your prince," he had observed to Mr. Neu- 
 chatel, as they came from the dining-room. " He never speaks 
 without thinking ; very reserved, I apprehend. They say, an 
 inveterate conspirator." 
 
 **He has had enough of that," said Mr. Neuchatel. *'I 
 believe he wants to be quiet." 
 
 " That class of man is never quiet," said Lord Roehampton. 
 
 " But what can he do ? " said Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 ** What can he not do ? Half Europe is in a state of 
 chronic conspiracy." 
 
 " You must keep us right, my dear lord. So long as you 
 are in Downing Street I shall sleep at nights." 
 
 "Miss Ferrars," said Lord Roehampton abruptly to Mr. 
 Neuchatel, *'must have been the daughter of William Ferrars, 
 one of my great friends in old days. I never knew it till to- 
 day, and she did not tell me, but it flashed across me from 
 something she said." 
 
 "Yes, she is his daughter, and is in mourning for him at 
 this moment. She has had sorrows," said Mr. Neuchatel. " I 
 hope they have ceased. It was one of the happiest days of my 
 life when she entered this family." 
 
 "Ah !" said Lord Roehampton. 
 
 The next day, after they had examined the famous stud 
 and stables there was a riding pai*ty, and in the evening Colo- 
 nel Albert offered to perform some American conjuring tricks, 
 of which he had been speaking in the course of the day. This 
 
MYBA AND LORD ROEEAMPTOK 197 
 
 was a most wonderful performance, and surprised and highly 
 amused everybody. Colonel Albert was the last person whom 
 they expected would achieve such marvels ; he was so quiet, 
 not to say grave. They could hardly credit that he was the 
 same person as he poured floods of flowers over Myra from her 
 own borrowed pocket-handkerchief, and without the slightest 
 effort or embarrassment, robbed Lord Eoehampton of his 
 watch, and deposited it in Adriana's bosom. It was evident 
 that he was a complete master of sleight of hand. 
 
 '* Characteristic," murmured Lord Eoehampton to himself. 
 
 It was the day after this, that Myra being in the music- 
 room and alone, Lord Eoehampton opened the door, looked in, 
 and then said, "Where is Miss Neuchatel ?" 
 
 " I think she is on the terrace. " 
 
 "Let us try to find her, and have one of our pleasant 
 strolls. I sadly want one, for I have been working very hard 
 all this morning, and half the night. " 
 
 "I will be with you, Lord Eoehampton, in a moment." 
 
 " Do not let us have anybody else," he said, as she left the 
 room. 
 
 They were soon on the terrace, but Adriana was not there. 
 
 *^ We must find her," said Lord Eoehampton ; " you know 
 her haunts. Ah ! what a delight it is to be in this air and this 
 scene after those dreadful boxes ! I wish they w^ould turn us 
 out. I think they must soon." 
 
 "Now for the first time," said Myra, "Lord Eoehampton 
 is not sincere." 
 
 " Then you think me always sincere ? " he replied. 
 
 "I have no reason to think you otherwise." 
 
 "That is very true," said Lord Eoehampton, "truer per- 
 haps than you imagine." Then rather abruptly he said, " You 
 know Colonel Albert very well ? " 
 
 " Pretty well. I have seen him here frequently, and he is 
 also a friend of my brother." 
 
 "Ah! a friend of your brother." Then, after a slight 
 pause, he said, "He is an interesting man." 
 
 " I think so," said Myra. "You know all about him, of 
 
198 ENDYMION. 
 
 ''Very good-looking." 
 
 " Well, he looks unhappy, I think, and worn." 
 
 '* One is never worn when one is young," said Lord Roe- 
 hampton. 
 
 **He must have great anxieties and great sorrows," said 
 Myra. " I can not imagine a position more unfortunate than 
 that of an exiled prince." 
 
 "I can," said Lord Roehampton. *'To have the feelings 
 of youth and the frame of age." 
 
 Myra was silent, one might say dumfounded. She had 
 just screwed herself up to the task which Mr. Neuchatel had 
 imposed on her, and was about to appeal to the good offices of 
 Lord Roehampton in favor of the prince, when he had indulged 
 in a remark which was not only somewhat strange, but from 
 the manner in which it was introduced hardly harmonized 
 with her purpose. 
 
 *^Yes, I would give up everything," said Lord Roehamp- 
 ton. "I would even be an exile to be young; to hear that 
 Miss Fcrrars deems me interesting and good-looking, though 
 worn." 
 
 "What is going to happen ?" thought Myra. " Will the 
 earth open to receive me ! " 
 
 " You are silent," said Lord Roehampton. " You will not 
 speak, you will not sigh, you will not give a glance of consola- 
 tion or even pity. But I have spoken too much not to say 
 more. Beautiful, fascinating being, let me at least tell you of 
 my love. " 
 
 Myra could not speak, but put her left hand to her face. 
 Gently taking her other hand. Lord Roehampton pressed it to 
 his lips. " From the first moment I met you, my heart was 
 yours. It was love at first sight ; indeed I believe in no other. 
 I was amused with the projects of my friend, and I availed 
 myself of them, but not unfairly. No one can accuse me of 
 trifling with the affections of your sweet friend, and I must do 
 her the justice to say that she did everything to convince me 
 that she shrank from my attentions. But her society was an 
 excuse to enjoy yours. I was an habitual visitor in town that 
 I might cherish my love, and, dare I say it, I came down here 
 
MTRA'S GOOD FORTUNE, 199 
 
 to declare it. Do not despise it, dearest of women ; it is not 
 worthy of you, but it is not altogether undeserving. It is, as 
 you kindly believed it — it is sincere ! '* 
 
 CHAPTEE XLV. 
 
 Ok the following day, Mr. Neuchatel had good naturedly 
 invited Endymion down to Hainault, and when he arrived 
 there, a servant informed him that Miss Ferrars wished to see 
 him in her room. 
 
 It was a long interview and an agitated one, and when she 
 had told her tale, and her brother had embraced her, she sat 
 for a time in silence, holding his hand, and intimating, that, 
 for a while, she wished that neither of them should speak. 
 Suddenly she resumed, and said, " Now you know all, dear 
 darling ; it is so sudden, and so strange, that you must be 
 almost as much astounded as gratified. What I have sighed 
 for, and prayed for — what, in moments of inspiration, I have 
 sometimes foreseen — has happened. Our degradation is over. 
 I seem to breathe for the first time for many years. I see a 
 career, ay, and a great one ; and what is far more important, I 
 see a career for you." 
 
 ''At this moment, dear Myra, think only of yourself." 
 
 "You are myself," she replied, rather quickly, ''never 
 more so than at this moment ; " and then she said in a tone 
 more subdued, and even tender, "Lord Eoehampton has every 
 quality, and every accident of life that I delight in ; he has 
 intellect, eloquence, courage, great station and power ; and, 
 what I ought perhaps more to consider, though I do not, a 
 sweet disposition and a tender heart. There is every reason 
 why we should be happy — yes, very happy. I am sure I shall 
 sympathize with him ; perhaps, I may aid him ; at least, he 
 thinks so. He is the noblest of men. The world will talk of 
 the disparity of our 3^ears ; but Lord Koehampton says that he 
 is really the younger of the two, and I think he is right. My 
 
200 ENDYMION. 
 
 pride, my intense pride, never permitted me any levity of 
 heart." 
 
 "And when is it to happen ?" inquired Endymion. 
 
 "Not immediately. I could not marry till a year elapsed 
 after our great sorrow ; and it is more agreeable, even to him, 
 that our union should be delayed till the session is over. He 
 wants to leave England ; go abroad ; have a real holiday. He 
 has always had a dream of traveling in Spain ; well, we are to 
 realize the dream. If we could get off at the end of July, we 
 might go to Paris, and then to Madrid, and travel in Andalusia 
 in the autumn, and then catch the packet at Gibraltar, and 
 get home just in time for the November cabinets." 
 
 "Dear Myra ! how wonderful it all seems !" involuntarily 
 exclaimed Endymion. 
 
 "Yes, but more wonderful things will happen. We have 
 now got a lever to move the world. Understand, my dear En- 
 dymion, that nothing is to be announced at present. It will 
 be known only to this family, and the Penruddocks. I am 
 bound to tell them, even immediately ; they are friends that 
 never can be forgotten. I have always kept my correspondence 
 up with Mrs. Penruddock. Besides, I shall tell her in confi- 
 dence, and she is perfectly to be depended on. I am going to 
 ask my lord to let Mr. Penruddock marry us." 
 
 " Oh ! that will be capital," said Endymion. 
 
 " There is another person, by the by, who must know it, 
 at least, my lord says so," said M3rra, "and that is Lady Mont- 
 fort ; you have heard of that lady and her plans. Well, she 
 must be told — at least, sooner or later. She will be annoyed, 
 and she will hate me. I can not help it ; every one is hated by 
 somebody." 
 
 During the three months that had to elapse before the 
 happy day, several incidents occurred that ought to be noted. 
 In the first place. Lady Montfort, though disappointed and 
 very much astonished, bore the communication from Lord 
 Eoehampton more kindly than he had anticipated. Lord Eoe- 
 hampton made it by letter, and his letters to women were more, 
 happy even than his dispatches to ministers, and they were 
 unrivaled. He put the matter in the most skillful form. 
 
A REMARKABLE PARAGRAPH. 201 
 
 Myra had been born in a social position not inferior to liis own, 
 and was the daughter of one of his early political friends. He 
 did not dilate too much on her charms and captivating qual- 
 ities, but sufficiently for the dignity of her who was to become 
 his wife. And then he confessed to Lady Montfort how com- 
 pletely his heart and happiness were set on Lady Roehampton 
 being welcomed becomingly by his friends ; he was well aware, 
 that, in these matters things did not always proceed as one 
 could wish, but this was the moment, and this the occasion to 
 test a friend, and he believed he had the dearest, the most 
 faithful, the most fascinating, and the most powerful in Lady 
 Montfort. 
 
 " Well, we must put the best face upon it," exclaimed that 
 lady; **he was always romantic. But, as he says, or thinks, 
 what is the use of friends if they do not help you in a scrape ? " 
 
 So Lady Montfort made the acquaintance of Myra, and 
 welcomed her new acquaintance cordially. She was too fine 
 a judge of beauty and deportment not to appreciate them, even 
 when a little prejudice lurked behind. She was amused also, 
 and a little gratified, by being in the secret ; presented Myra 
 with a rare jewel, and declared that she should attend the wed- 
 ding ; though when the day arrived, she was at Princedown, 
 and could not unfortunately leave her lord. 
 
 About the end of June, a rather remarkable paragraph ap- 
 peared in the journal of society : 
 
 *'We understand that His Eoyal Highness, Prince Flo- 
 restan, who has been for some little time in this country, has 
 taken the mansion in Carlton Gardens, recently occupied by the 
 Marquis of Katterfelto. The mansion is undergoing very 
 considerable repairs, but it is calculated that it will be com- 
 pleted in time for the reception of His Royal Highness by the 
 end of the autumn ; His Royal Highness has taken the exten- 
 sive moors of Dinniewhiskie for the coming season." 
 
 In the earlier part of July, the approaching alliance of the 
 Earl of Roehampton with Miss Ferrars, the only daughter of 
 the late Right Honorable "William Pitt Ferrars, of Hurstley 
 Hall, in the county of Berks, was announced, and great was 
 the sensation, and innumerable the presents instantly ordered. 
 
202 ENDYMION. 
 
 But on no one did the announcement produce greater effect 
 than on Zenohia ; that the daughter of her dearest friend 
 should make so interesting and so distinguished an alliance 
 was naturally most gratifying to her. She wrote to Myra u 
 most impassioned letter, as if they had only separated yester- 
 day, and a still longer. and more fenrent one to Lord Roehamp- 
 ton ; Zenohia and he had been close friends in other days, till 
 he wickedly changed his politics, and was always in ofiBce and 
 Zenohia always out. This was never to be forgiyen. But the 
 bright lady forgot all this now, and sent to Myra the most 
 wondrous bracelet of precious stones, in which the word " Sou- 
 venir" was represented in brilliants, rubies, and emeralds. 
 
 "For my part," said Myra to Endymion, **my most diffi- 
 cult task are the bridesmaids. I am to have so many, and 
 know so few. I feel like a recruiting sergeant. I began with 
 Adriana, but my lord helps me very much out of his family, 
 and says, when we have had a few family dinners, all will be 
 right." 
 
 Endymion did not receive the banter he expected at the 
 office. The event was too great for a jest. Seymour Hicks, 
 with a serious countenance, said Ferrars might get anywhere 
 now — all the ministerial receptions of course. Jawett said 
 there would be no ministerial receptions soon ; they were de- 
 grading functions. Clear-headed Trenchard congratulated him 
 quietly, and said, " I do not think you will stay much longer 
 among us, but we shall always remember you with interest." 
 
 At last the great day arrived, and at St. George's, Hanover 
 Square, the Right Honorable the Earl of Roehampton, K. G., 
 was united to Miss Ferrars. Mr. Penruddock joined their 
 hands. His son, Nigel, had been invited to assist him, but did 
 not appear, though Myi-a had written to him. The great 
 world assembled in force, and Endymion observed Mr. and 
 Mrs. Rodney and Imogene in the body of the church. After 
 the ceremony there was an entertainment in Portland Place, 
 and the world ate ortolans and examined the presents. These 
 were remarkable for number and splendor. Myra could not 
 conceal her astonishment at possessing so many friends ; but it 
 was the fashion for all Lord Roehampton's acquaintance to 
 
END OF TEE SEASON. 203 
 
 make him offerings, and to solicit his permission to present 
 gifts to his bride. Mr. Neuchatel placed on her brow a dia- 
 mond tiara, and Mrs. Neuchatel encircled her neck with one 
 of her diamond necklaces. ^'I should like to give the other 
 one to Adriana," she observed, "but Adriana says that nothing 
 will ever induce her to wear jewels." Prince Florestan pre- 
 sented Lady Roehampton with a vase which had belonged to 
 his mother, and which had been painted by Boucher for Marie 
 Antoinette. It was matchless, and almost unique. 
 
 Not long after this. Lord Beaumaris, with many servants 
 and many guns, took Waldershare and Endymion down with 
 him to Scotland. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 The end of the season is a pang to society. More hopes 
 have been baffled than realized. There is something melan- 
 choly in the last ball, though the music ever seems louder, and 
 the lights more glaring than usual. Or it may be, the last enter- 
 tainment is that hecatomb they call a wedding breakfast, which 
 celebrates the triumph of a rival. That is pleasant. Society, 
 to do it justice, struggles hard to revive in other scenes the ex- 
 citement that has expired. It sails to Cowes, it scuds to bub- 
 bling waters in the pine forests of the continent, it stalks even 
 into Scotland ; but it is difficult to restore the romance that has 
 been rudely disturbed, and to gather again together the threads 
 of the intrigue that have been lost in the wild flight of society 
 from that metropolis, which is now described as *'a perfect 
 desert " — that is to say, a park or so, two or three squares, and 
 a dozen streets where society lives ; where it dines, and dances, 
 and blackballs, and bets, and spouts. 
 
 But to the world in general, the mighty million, to the pro- 
 fessional classes, to all men of all business whatever, the end of 
 the season is the beginning of carnival. It is the fulfillment 
 of the dream over which they have been brooding for ten 
 months, which has sustained them in toil, lightened anxiety. 
 
204 ENDYMION, 
 
 and softened even loss. It is air, it is health, it is movement, 
 it is liberty, it is nature — earth, sea, lake, moor, forest, moun- 
 tain and river. From the heights of the Engadine to Margate 
 Pier, there is equal rapture, for there is an equal cessation of 
 routine. 
 
 Few enjoy a holiday more than a young clerk in a public 
 ofl&ce, who has been bred in a gentle home, and enjoyed in his 
 boyhood all the pastimes of gentlemen. Now he is ever toil- 
 ing, with an uncertain prospect of annual relaxation, and 
 living hardly. Once on a time, at the paternal hall, he could 
 shoot, or fish, or ride, every day of his life, as a matter of 
 course ; and now, what would he not give for a good day's 
 sport ? Such thoughts had frequently crossed the mind of 
 Endymion when drudging in London during the autumn, and 
 when all his few acquaintances were away. It was, therefore, 
 with no ordinary zest that he looked forward to the unexpected 
 enjoyment of an unstinted share of some of the best shooting 
 in the United Kingdom. And the relaxation and the pastime 
 came just at the right moment, when the reaction, from all 
 the excitement attendant on the marvelous change in his 
 sister's position, would have made him, deprived of her consol- 
 ing society, doubly sensible of his isolated position. 
 
 It so happened that the moors of Lord Beaumaris were con- 
 tiguous to the celebrated shootings of Dinniewhiskie, which were 
 rented by Prince Florestan, and the opportunity now offered 
 which Waldershare desired of making the acquaintance of the 
 prince in an easy manner. Endymion managed this very clev- 
 erly. Waldershare took a great fancy to the prince. He sjrm- 
 pathized with him, and imparted to Endymion his belief that 
 they could not do a better thing than devote their energies to a 
 restoration of his rights. Lord Beaumaris, who hated foreign- 
 ers, but who was always influenced by Waldershare, also liked the 
 prince, and was glad to be reminded by his mentor that Flores- 
 tan was half an Englishman, not to say a whole one, for he was 
 an Eton boy. What was equally influential with Lord Beau- 
 maris was, that the prince was a fine shot, and indeed a consum- 
 mate sportsman, and had in his manners that calm which is 
 rather unusual with foreigners, and which is always pleasing to 
 
THE DUKE OF ST. ANGELO. 205 
 
 an English aristocrat. So in time they became intimate, sported 
 much together, and visited each other at their respective quar- 
 ters. The prince was never alone. What the county paper 
 described as distinguished foreigners were perpetually paying 
 him visits, long or short, and it did not generally appear that 
 these visits were influenced by a love of sport. One individual, 
 who arrived shortly after the prince, remained, and, as was 
 soon known, was to remain permanently. This was a young 
 gentleman, short and swarthy, with flashing eyes and a black 
 mustache, known by the name of the Duke of St. Angelo, but 
 who was really only a cadet of that illustrious house. The 
 Duke of St. Angelo took the management of the household of 
 the prince — was evidently the controller ; servants trembled at 
 his nod, and he rode any horse he liked ; he invited guests, and 
 arranged the etiquette of the interior. He said one day very 
 coolly to Waldershare : *'I observe that Lord Beaumaris and 
 his friends never rise when the prince moves." 
 
 "Why should we?" 
 
 " His rank is recognized and guaranteed by the Treaty of 
 Vienna," said the Duke of St. Angelo, with an arrogant air. 
 
 "His princely rank," replied Waldershare, "but not his 
 royalty." 
 
 "That is a mere refinement," said the duke contempt- 
 uously. 
 
 " On the contrary, a clear distinction, and specifically made 
 in the treaty. I do not think the prince himself would desire 
 such a ceremony, and let me recommend you, duke," added 
 Waldershare, "not to go out of your way to insist on these 
 points. They will not increase the prince's popularity." 
 
 " The time will come, and before long, when the Treaty of 
 Vienna, with its clear distinctions, will be at the bottom of the 
 Red Sea," said the Duke of St. Angelo, "and then no one will 
 sit when his Majesty rises." 
 
 "Amen !" said Waldershare. "All diplomacy since the 
 Treaty of Utrecht seems to me to be fiddle-faddle, and the 
 country rewarded the great man who made that treaty by an 
 attainder." 
 
 Endymion returned to town toward the end of September, 
 
206 ENDYMIOK 
 
 Waldershare went to Paris, and Lord Beaumaris and the 
 prince, who had become intimate, repaired together to Coning- 
 ton, the seat of Lord Beaumaris, to kill pheasants. Even the 
 Kodneys, who had gone to the Rhine this year, had not re- 
 turned. Endymion had only the society of his fellow-clerks. 
 He liked Trenchard, who was acute, full of official information, 
 and of gentle breeding. Still it must be confessed that En- 
 dymion felt the change in his society. Seymour Hicks was 
 hardly a fit successor to Waldershare, and Jawett's rabid ab- 
 stractions on government were certainly not so interesting as 
 la haute politique of the Duke of St. Angelo. Were it not for 
 the letters which he constantly received from his sister, he 
 would have felt a little despondent. As it was, he renewed his 
 studies in his pleasant garret, trained himself in his French 
 and German, and got up several questions for the Union. 
 
 The month seemed very long, but it was not unprofitably 
 spent. The Rodneys were still absent. They had not returned 
 as they had intended direct to England, but had gone to Paris 
 to meet Mr. Waldershare. 
 
 At the end of October there was a semi-official paragraph 
 announcing the approaching meeting of the Cabinet, and the 
 movements of its members. Some were in the north, and some 
 were in the south ; some were killing the 'last grouse, and some, 
 placed in green ridings, were blazing in battues. But all were 
 to be at their post in ten days, and there was a special notifica- 
 tion that intelligence had been received of the arrival of Lord 
 and Lady Roehampton at Gibraltar. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 Lady Roehamptoit, in her stately mansion in St. James' 
 Square, found life very different from what she had experienced 
 in her Andalusian dream. For three months she had been the 
 constant companion of one of the most fascinating of men, 
 whose only object had been to charm and delight her. And in 
 this he had entirely succeeded. From the moment they arrived 
 
LOBD AND LADY ROEHAMPTOK 207 
 
 in London, however, they seemed to be separated, and although 
 when they met, there was ever a sweet smile and a kind and 
 playful word for her, his brow, if not oppressed with care, was 
 always weighty with thought. Lord Eoehampton was little at 
 his office ; he worked in a spacious chamber on the ground 
 floor of his private residence, and which was called the library, 
 though its literature consisted only of Hansard, volumes of 
 state papers, shelves of treatises, and interminable folios of 
 parliamentary reports. He had not been at home a week be- 
 fore the floor of the apartment was literally covered with red 
 boxes, all containing documents requiring attention, and which 
 messengers were perpetually bringing or carrying away. Then 
 there were long meetings of the Cabinet almost daily, and daily 
 visits from ambassadors and foreign ministers, which prevented 
 the transaction of the current business, and rendered it neces- 
 sary that Lord Roehampton should sit up late in his cabinet, 
 and work sometimes nearly till the hours of dawn. There had 
 been of course too some arrears of business, for secretaries of 
 state can not indulge with impunity in Andalusian dreams, 
 but Lord Eoehampton was well served. His under secretaries 
 of state were capable and experienced men, and their chief had 
 not been altogether idle in his wanderings. He had visited 
 Paris, and the capital of France in those days was the capital 
 of diplomacy. The visit of Lord Roehampton had settled some 
 questions which might have lingered for years, and had given 
 him that opportunity of personal survey which to a statesman 
 is invaluable. 
 
 Although it was not the season, the great desert had, com- 
 paratively speaking, again become peopled. There were many 
 persons in town, and they all called immediately on Lady Roe- 
 hampton. The ministerial families and the diplomatic corps 
 alone form a circle, but there is also a certain number of charm- 
 ing people who love London in November, and lead there a 
 wondrous pleasant life of real amusement, until their feudal 
 traditions and their domestic duties summon them back to 
 their Christmas homes. 
 
 Lord and Lady Roehampton gave constant dinners, and after 
 they had tried two or three, he expressed his wish to his wife that 
 
208 ENDYMION. 
 
 she should hold a small reception after these dinners. He was a 
 man of great tact, and he wished to launch his wife quietly 
 and safely on the social ocean. " There is nothing like prac- 
 ticing before Christmas, my love," he would say, "you will 
 get your hand in, and be able to hold regular receptions in the 
 spring." And he was quite right. The dinners became the 
 mode, and the assemblies were eagerly appreciated. The Secre- 
 tary of the Treasury whispered to an Under-Secretary of State, 
 " This marriage was a coup. We have got another house." 
 
 Myra had been a little anxious about the relations between 
 Lord Roehampton and her brother. She felt with a woman's 
 instinct, that her husband might not be overpleased by her 
 devotion to Endymion, and she could not resist the conviction 
 that the disparity of age which is easily forgotten in a wife, 
 and especially in a wife who adores you, assumes a different, 
 and somewhat distasteful character, when a great statesman is 
 obliged to recognize it in the shape of a boyish brother-in-law. 
 But all went right, for the sweetness of Lord Roehampton's 
 temper was inexhaustible. Endymion had paid several visits 
 to St. James' Square before Myra could seize the opportunity, 
 for which she was ever watching, to make her husband and her- 
 brother acquainted. 
 
 " And so you are one of us," said Lord Eoehampton, with 
 his sweetest smile and in his most musical tone, *'and in office. 
 We must try to give you a lift." And then he asked En- 
 dymion who was his chief, and how he liked him, and then he 
 said, "A good deal depends on a man's chief. I was under 
 your grandfather when I first entered Parliament, and I never 
 knew a pleasanter man to do business with. He never made 
 difficulties ; he always encouraged one. A younker likes that." 
 
 Lady Roehampton was desirous of paying some attention to 
 all those who had been kind to her brother ; particularly Mr. 
 Waldershare and Lord Beaumaris — and she wished to invite 
 them to her house. "I am sure Waldershare would like to 
 come," said Endymion, " but Lord Beaumaris, I know, never 
 goes anywhere, and I have myself heard him say he never 
 would." 
 
 **Yes, my lord was telling mo Lord Beaumaris was quito 
 
THE NEW MAN. 209 
 
 farouche, and it is feared that we may lose him. That would 
 be sad," said Mjnra, "for he is powerful." 
 
 "I should like very much if you could give me a card for 
 Mr. Trenchard," said Endymion ; "he is not in society, but 
 he is quite a gentleman." 
 
 "You shall have it, my dear. I have always liked Mr. 
 Trenchard, and I dare say, some day or other, he may be of 
 use to you." 
 
 The Neuchatels were not in town, but Myra saw them fre- 
 quently, and Mr. Neuchatel often dined in St. James' Square 
 — ^but the ladies always declined every invitation of the kind. 
 They came up from Hainault to see Myra, but looked as if 
 nothing but their great affection would prompt such a sacrifice, 
 and seemed always pining for Arcadia. Endymion, however, 
 not unfrequently continued his Sunday visits to Hainault, to 
 which Mr. Neuchatel had given him a general welcome. This 
 young gentleman, indeed, soon experienced a considerable 
 change in his social position. Invitations flocked to him, and 
 often from persons whom he did not know, and who did not 
 even know him. He went by the name of Lady Roehampton's 
 brother, and that was a sufficient passport. 
 
 " We are trying to get up a carpet dance to-night," said 
 Belinda to a fair friend. " What men are in town ? " 
 
 "Well, there is Mr. Waldershare, who has just left me." 
 
 "I have asked him." 
 
 "Then there is Lord Willesden and Henry Grantley, 1 
 know they are passing through town — and there is the new 
 man. Lady Roehampton's brother." 
 
 "I will send to Lord Willesden and Henry Grantley imme- 
 diately, and perhaps you will send a card, which I will write 
 here, for me to the new man." 
 
 And in this way Mr. Ferrars soon found that he was what 
 is called "everywhere." 
 
 One of the most interesting acquaintances that Lady Roe- 
 hampton made was a colleague of her husband, and that was 
 Mr. Sidney Wilton, once the intimate friend of her father. He 
 had known herself and her brother when they were children, 
 indeed from the cradle. Mr. Sidney Wilton was in the perfec- 
 
210 ENDTMIOK 
 
 tion of middle life, and looked young for his years. He was 
 tall and pensive, and naturally sentimental, though a long po- 
 litical career, for he had entered the House of Commons for 
 the family borough the instant he was of age, had brought to 
 this susceptibility a salutary hardness. Although somewhat 
 alienated from the friend of his youth by the course of affairs, 
 for Mr. Sidney Wilton had followed Lord Koehampton, while 
 Mr. Ferrars had adhered to the Duke of Wellington, he had 
 not neglected Ferrars in his fall, but his offers of assistance, 
 frankly and generously made, had been coldly though courte- 
 ously rejected, and no encouragement had been given to the 
 maintenance of their once intimate acquaintance. 
 
 Mr. Sidney Wilton was much struck by the appearance of 
 Lady Koehampton. He tried to compare the fulfillment of her 
 promise with the beautiful and haughty child whom he used 
 to wonder her parents so extravagantly spoiled. Her stature 
 was above the average height of women and finely developed 
 and proportioned. But it was in the countenance — in the pel- 
 lucid and commanding brow, the deep splendor of her dark- 
 blue eyes softened by long lashes, lier short upper lip, and the 
 rich profusion of her dark chestnut hair — that his roused mem- 
 ory recalled the past ; and he fell into a mood of agitated con- 
 templation. 
 
 The opportunities which he enjoyed of cultivating her so- 
 ciety were numerous, and Mr. Wilton missed none. He was 
 frequently her guest, and being himself the master of a splen- 
 did establishment, he could offer her a hospitality which every 
 one appreciated. Lord Koehampton was peculiarly his political 
 chief, and they had always been socially intimate. As the 
 trusted colleague of her husband — as one who had known her 
 in her childhood, and as himself a man singularly qualified, by 
 his agreeable conversation and tender and deferential manner, 
 to make his way with women — Mr. Sidney Wilton had no great 
 difficulty, particularly in that happy demi-season which pre- 
 cedes Christmas, in establishing relations of confidence and 
 intimacy with Lady Koehampton. 
 
 The cabinets were over : the government had decided on 
 their measures, and put them in a state of preparation, and 
 
CniUSTMAS AT AY BENE. 211 
 
 they were about to disperse for a month. The seat of Lord 
 Eoehampton was in the extreme north of England, and a visit 
 to it was inconvenient at this moment, and especially at this 
 season. The department of Lord Eoehampton was very active 
 at this time, and he was unwilling that the first impression by 
 his wife of her future home should be experienced at a season 
 little favorable to the charms of a northern seat. Mr. Sidney 
 Wilton was the proprietor of the most beautiful and the most 
 celebrated villa in England ; only twenty miles from town, 
 seated on a wooded crest of the swan-crowned Thames, with 
 gardens of delight, and woods full of pheasants, and a terrace 
 that would have become a court, glancing over a wide expanse 
 of bower and glade, studded with bright halls and delicate stee- 
 ples, and the smoke of rural homes. 
 
 It was arranged that Lord and Lady Eoehampton should 
 pass their Christmas at Gaydene with Mr. Sidney Wilton, stay 
 as long as they liked, go where they chose, but make it their 
 headquarters. It was a most successful visit ; for a great deal 
 of business was done, as well as pleasure enjoyed. The ambas- 
 sadors, who are always a little uneasy at Christmas when every- 
 body is away, and themselves without country homes, were all 
 invited down for that week. Lord Eoehampton used to give 
 them audiences after the shooting parties. He thought it was 
 a specific against their being too long. He used to say, "The 
 first dinner-bell often brings things to a point." After Christ- 
 mas there was an ever-varying stream of company, chiefly 
 official and parliamentary. The banquet and the battue did 
 not always settle the business, the clause, or the schedule, 
 which the guests often came down to Gaydene ostensibly to 
 accomplish, but they sent men back to town with increased 
 energy and good humor, and kept the party in heart. Toward 
 tlie end of the month the premier came down, and for him the 
 Blue Eibbon Cover had been reserved, though he really cared 
 little for sport. It was an eighteenth-century tradition that 
 knights of the garter had only been permitted to shoot this 
 choice preserve, but Mr. Sidney Wilton, in this advanced age, 
 did not of course revive such an ultra-exclusive practice, and 
 he was particular in arranging the party to include Mr. Jor- 
 
212 ENDYMIOK 
 
 rocks. This was a radical member to whom considerable oflBce 
 had been given at the reconstruction of 1835, when it was 
 necessary that the Whigs should conciliate the Mountain. He 
 was a pretentious, underbred, half-educated man, fluent with 
 all the commonplaces of middle-class ambition, which are hu- 
 morously called democratic opinions, but at heart a sycophant 
 of the aristocracy. He represented, however, a large and im- 
 portant constituency, and his promotion was at first looked 
 upon as a masterpiece of management. The Mountain, who 
 knew Jorrocks by heart, and felt that they had in their ranks 
 men in every sense his superior, and that he could be no rep- 
 resentative of their intelligence and opinions, and so by degrees 
 prepare for their gradual admission to the sacred land, at first 
 sulked over the promotion of their late companion, and only 
 did not publicly deride it from the feeling that by so doing 
 they might be plajdng the game of the ministry. At the time 
 of which we are writing, having become extremely discontented 
 and wishing to annoy the government, they even affected dis- 
 satisfaction at the subordinate position which Jorrocks occu- 
 pied in the administration, and it was generally said — had 
 become indeed the slang of the party — that the test of the 
 sincerity of the ministry to Liberal principles was to put 
 Jorrocks in the cabinet. The countenance of the premier 
 when this choice programme was first communicated to him 
 was what might have been expected had he learned of the sud- 
 den descent upon this isle of an invading force, and the Secre- 
 tary of the Treasury whispered in confidence to one or two 
 leaders of the Mountain, " that if they did not take care, they 
 would upset the government." 
 
 ** That is exactly what we want to do," was the reply. 
 
 So it will be seen that the position of the ministry, previous 
 to the meeting of Parliament in 1839, was somewhat critical. 
 In the mean time, its various members, who knew their man, 
 lavished every practical social attention on Jorrocks. The din- 
 ners they gave him were doubled ; they got their women to call 
 on his women ; and Sidney "Wilton, a member of an illustrious 
 garter family, capped the climax by appointing him one of the 
 party to shoot the Blue Kibbon Cover. 
 
ENDYMION'S GOOD FORTUNE. 213 
 
 Mr. Wilton had invited Endymion to Gaydene, and as his 
 stay there could only be brief, had even invited him to repeat 
 the visit. He was, indeed, unaffectedly kind to one whom he 
 rememoered so young, and was evidently pleased with him. 
 
 One evening, a day or two before the breaking up of the party, 
 while some charming Misses Playfellow, with an impudent 
 brother, who all lived in the neighborhood, were acting charades, 
 Mr. Wilton said to Lady Roehampton, by whose side he was sit- 
 ting in the circle : 
 
 *'I have had a very busy morning about my ofi&ce. There 
 is to be a complete revolution in it. The whole system is to 
 be reconstructed ; half the present people are to be pensioned 
 off, and new blood is to be introduced. It struck me that this 
 might be an opening for your brother. He is in the public ser- 
 yice — that is something ; and as there are to be so many new 
 men, there will be no jealousy as to his promotion. If you will 
 speak to him about it, and he likes it, I will appoint him one of 
 the new clerks ; and then, if he also likes it, he shall be my pri- 
 vate secretary. That will give him position, and be no mean 
 addition to his income, you know, if we last — but that depends, 
 I suppose, on Mr. Jorrocks." 
 
 Lady Roehampton communicated all this to her brother on 
 her return to London. '* It is exactly what I wished," she said. 
 " I wanted you to be private secretary to a cabinet minister, and 
 if I were to chose any one, except, of course, my lord, it would 
 be Mr. AYilton. He is a perfect gentleman, and was dear papa's 
 friend. I understand you will have three hundred a year to be- 
 gin with, and the same amount as his secretary. You ought to 
 be able to live with ease and propriety on six hundred a year — 
 and this reminds me of what I have been thinking of before we 
 went to Gaydene. I think now you ought to have a more becom- 
 ing residence. The Rodneys are good people, I do not doubt, and 
 I dare say we shall have an opportunity of proving our sense of 
 their services ; but they are not exactly the people that I care 
 for you to live with, and, at any rate, you can not reside any 
 longer in a garret. I have taken some chambers in the Albany, 
 therefore, for you, and they shall be my contribution to your 
 housekeeping. They are not bs>dly furnished, but they belonged 
 
214 ENDYMION. 
 
 to an old general ofticer, and are not very new-fashioned ; but 
 we will go together and see them to-morrow, and I dare say I 
 shall soon be able to make them comme ilfauV^ 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIIL 
 
 This considerable rise in the life of Endymion, after the 
 first excitement occasioned by its announcement to him had 
 somewhat subsided, was not contemplated by him with un- 
 mixed feelings of satisfaction. It seemed to terminate many 
 relations of life, the value of which he had always appreciated, 
 but which now, with their impending conclusion, he felt, and 
 felt keenly, had absolutely contributed to his happiness. There 
 was no great pang in quitting his fellow-clerks, except Trench- 
 ard, whom he greatly esteemed. But poor little Warwick 
 Street had been to him a real home, if unvarying kindness, 
 and sedulous attention, and the affection of the eyes and heart, 
 as well as of the mouth, can make a hearth. He hoped he 
 might preserve the friendship of Waldershare, which their 
 joint intimacy with the prince would favor ; but still he could 
 hardly flatter himself that the delightful familiarity of their 
 past lives could subsist. Endymion sighed, and then he sighed 
 again. He felt sad. Because he was leaving the humble har- 
 bor of refuge, the entrance to which, even in the darkest hour 
 of his fallen fortunes, was thought somewhat of an indignity, 
 and was about to assume a position which would not have alto- 
 gether misbecome the earliest expectations of his life ? That 
 seems unreasonable ; but mankind, fortunately, are not always 
 governed by reason, but by sentiment, and often by very tender 
 sentiment. 
 
 When Endymion, sitting in his little room, analyzed his 
 feelings, he came to the conclusion that his sadness was occa- 
 sioned by his having to part from Imogene. It often requires 
 an event in life, and an unexpected one, to make us clearly 
 aware of the existence of feelings which have long influenced 
 us. Never having been in a position in which the possibility 
 
EIJDYMIOJSf SPECULATES ON HIS FUTURE. 215 
 
 of uniting his fate to another could cross his mind for a mo- 
 ment, he had been content with the good fortune which per- 
 mitted a large portion of his life to be passed in the society of 
 a woman who, unconsciously both to him and to herself, had 
 fascinated him. The graceful child who, four or five years 
 ago, had first lit him to his garret, without losing anything of 
 her rare and simple ingenuousness, had developed into a beau- 
 tiful and accomplished woman. There was a strong resem- 
 blance between Imogene and her sister, but Imogene was a 
 brunette. Her countenance indicated far more intellect and 
 character than that of Sylvia. Her brow was delicately pen- 
 ciled and finely arched, and her large dark eyes gleamed with 
 a softness and sweetness of expression, which were irresistibly 
 attractive, and seemed to indicate sympathy with everything 
 that was good and beautiful. Her features were not so regu- 
 lar as her sister's ; but when she smiled, her face was capti- 
 vating. 
 
 Endymion had often listened, half with fondness and half 
 with skepticism, to Waldershare dilating, according to his wont, 
 on the character and qualities of Imogene, whom he persisted 
 in believing he was preparing for a great career. ** How it 
 will come about I can not say," he would remark; **but it 
 will come. If my legitimate sovereign were on the throne, 
 and I in the possession of my estates; which were graciously 
 presented by the usurper to the sausage-makers, or some other 
 choice middle-class corporation, I would marry her myself. 
 But that is impossible. That would only be asking her to 
 share my ruin. I want her to live in palaces, and perhaps in 
 my decline of life, make me her librarian, like Casanova. I 
 should be content to dine in her hall every day beneath the 
 salt, and see her enter with her state, amid the flourish of 
 trumpets." And now, strange to say, Endymion was specu- 
 lating on the fate of Imogene, and, as he thought, in a more 
 practical spirit. Six hundred a year, he thought, was not a 
 very large income ; but it was an income, and one which a 
 year ago he never contemplated possessing, until getting gray 
 in the public service. Why not realize perfect happiness at 
 once ? He could conceive no bliss greater than living with 
 
216 ENDTMION, 
 
 Imogene in one of those little villas, even if semi-detaohed 
 which are now numbered by tens of thousands, and whicl 
 were then beginning to shoot out their suburban antennaB ii 
 every direction of our huge metropolis. He saw her in hii 
 mind's eye in a garden of perpetual sunshine, breathing o; 
 mignonette and bright with roses, and waiting for him as h( 
 came down from town and his daily labors, in the cheap anc 
 convenient omnibus. What a delightful companion to wel 
 come him ! How much to tell her, and how much to lister 
 to ! And then their evenings with a delicious book or some 
 delightful music I What holidays, too, of romantic adven 
 ture ! The vine-clad Ehine, perhaps Switzerland ; at any rate 
 the quaint old cities of Flanders, and the winding valley oi 
 the Meuse. They could live extremely well on six hundred i 
 year ; yes, with all the real refinements of existence. And al 
 this genuine happiness was to be sacrificed for utterly fantastic 
 and imaginary gratifications, which, if analyzed, would be 
 found only to be efforts to amuse and astonish others. 
 
 It did not yet occur to Endymion that his garden could nol 
 always be sunshiny ; that cares crop up in villas, even semi- 
 detached, as well as joys ; that he would have children, and 
 perhaps too many ; that they would be sick, and that doctors 
 bills would soon put a stop to romantic excursions ; that his 
 wife would become exhausted with nursing, and clothing, and 
 teaching them ; that she herself would become an invalid, and 
 moped to death ; that his resources would every day bear a less 
 proportion to his expenditure ; and that wanting money, he 
 would return too often from town a harassed husband to a 
 jaded wife ! 
 
 Mr. Rodney and Sylvia were at Conington on a visit to 
 Lord Beaumaris, hunting. It was astonishing how Sylvia had 
 rode to the hounds, mounted on the choicest steeds, and in a 
 scarlet habit which had been presented to her by Mr. Vigo. 
 She had created quite an enthusiasm in the field, and Lord 
 Beaumaris was proud of his guests. When Endymion parted 
 with his sister at the Albany, where they had been examining 
 his rooms, he had repaired to Warwick Street, with some ex- 
 pectation that the Rodneys would have returned from Coning- 
 
ENDYMION AND IMOGENE. 217 
 
 ton, and lie intended to break to his host the impending change 
 in his life. The Eodneys, however, had not arrived, and so he 
 ascended to his room, where he had been employed in arrang- 
 ing his books and papers, and in indulging in the reverie which 
 we have indicated. When he came down stairs, wishing to in- 
 quire about the probable arrival of his landlord, Endymion 
 knocked at the door of the parlor where they used to assemble, 
 and on entering, found Imogene writing. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Ferrars ? " she said, rising. ^' I am 
 writing to Sylvia. They are not returning as soon as they in- 
 tended, and I am to go down to Conington by an early train 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " I wanted to see Mr. Rodney," said Endymion moodily. 
 
 ** Can I write anything to him, or tell him anything ? " said 
 Imogene. 
 
 " No," continued Endymion, in a melancholy tone. "I 
 can tell you what I wanted to say. But you must be occupied 
 now, going away, and unexpectedly, to-morrow. It seems to 
 me that every one is going away." 
 
 " Well, we have lost the prince, certainly," said Imogene, 
 *' and I doubt whether his rooms will be ever let again." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Endymion. 
 
 " Well, I only know what Mr. Waldershare tells me. He 
 says that Mr. Rodney and Mr. Vigo have made a great specu- 
 lation, and gained a great deal of money ; but Mr. Rodney 
 never speaks to me of such matters, nor indeed does Sylvia. I 
 am myself very sorry that the prince is gone, for he interested 
 me much." 
 
 ** Well, I should think Mr. Rodney would not be very sorry 
 to get rid of me, then," said Endymion. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Ferrars, why should you say or think such 
 things ? I am sure that my brother and sister, and indeed 
 every one in this house, always consider your comfort and wel- 
 fare before any other object." 
 
 '*Yes," said Endymion, '^you have all been most kind to 
 me, and that makes me more wretched at the prospect of leav- 
 ing you." 
 
 " But there is no prospect of that ? " 
 
 10 
 
218 ENDYMION. 
 
 ''A certainty, Imogene ; there is going to be a change in 
 my life," and then he told her all. 
 
 " Well," said Imogene, " it would be selfish not to be hap- 
 py at what I hear ; but though I hope I am happy, I need not 
 be joyful. I never used to be nervous, but I am afraid I am 
 getting so. All these great changes rather shake me. This 
 adventure of the prince — as Mr. Waldershare says, it is history. 
 Then Miss Myra's great marriage, and your promotion — al- 
 though they are exactly what we used to dream about, and 
 wished a fairy would accomplish, and somehow felt that, some- 
 how or other, they must happen — yet, now they have occurred, 
 one is almost as astounded as delighted. We certainly have been 
 very happy in Warwick Street, at least I have been, all living 
 as it were together. But where shall we be this time next 
 year ? All scattered, and perhaps not even the Rodneys under 
 this roof. I know not how it is, but I dread leaving the roof 
 where one has been happy." 
 
 " Oh ! you know you must leave it one day or other, Imo- 
 gene. You are sure to marry ; that you can not avoid." 
 
 " Well, I am not by any means sure about that," said Imo- 
 gene. " Mr. Waldershare, in educating me, as he says, as a 
 princess, has made me really neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, nor 
 even that coarser but popular delicacy never forgotten. I could 
 not unite my life with a being who was not refined in mind and 
 in manners, and the men of my class in life, who are the only 
 ones after all who might care to marry me, shock my taste. I 
 am ashamed to say so. I am not sure it is not wicked to think 
 it even ; but so it is. " 
 
 "Why do you not marry Waldershare ? " said Endymion. 
 
 " That would be madness ! I do not know any alliance 
 that could prove more unfortunate ; Mr. Waldershare must 
 never marry. All people of imagination, they say, are difficult 
 to live with ; but a person who consists solely of imagination, 
 like Mr. Waldershare, who has indeed no other attribute — ^be- 
 fore a year was past, married, he would fly to the desert or to 
 La Trappe, commit terrible scandals from mere weariness of 
 feeling, write pasquinades against the wife of his bosom, and 
 hold us both up to the fierce laughter of the world. No, no ; 
 
WHITEHALL. 219 
 
 he is the best, the dearest, and the most romantic of friends ; 
 tender as a father, and sometimes as wise, for genius can be 
 eyerything. He is going to rise early to-morrow, which he 
 particularly dislikes, because he will not let me go to the sta- 
 tion alone ; though I tell him, as I often tell him, those are 
 the becoming manners of my class. " 
 
 **But you might meet a person of the refinement you re- 
 quire," said Endymion, **with a moderate and yet a sufficient 
 income, who would not be unworthy of you." 
 
 **I doubt it," said Imogene. 
 
 '^But, do not doubt it, dear Imogene," said Endymion, 
 advancing, " such charms as yours, both of body and of mind, 
 such a companion in life, so refined, so accomplished, and yet 
 endowed with such clear sense, and such a sweet disposition — 
 believe me — ! " 
 
 But, at this moment, a splendid equipage drove up to the 
 door, with powdered footmen and long canes behind, and then 
 a terrible rap, like the tattoo of a field-marshal. 
 
 *^Good gracious ! what is all this ?" exclaimed Imogene. 
 
 "It is my sister," said Endymion, blushing. ''It is Lady 
 Roehampton." 
 
 '' I must go to her myself," said Imogene, "I can not have 
 the servant attend upon your sister." 
 
 Endymion remained silent and confused. Imogene was 
 some little time at the carriage-door, for Lady Roehampton 
 had inquiries to make after Sylvia and other courteous things 
 to say, and then Imogene returned, and said to Endymion, 
 '' Lady Roehampton wishes you to go with her directly on some 
 particular business." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 EiTDYMiOJ^r liked his new official life very much. White- 
 hall was a great improvement on Somerset House, and he had 
 sufficient experience of the civil service to duly appreciate the 
 advantage of being permanently quartered in one of the chief 
 departments of the state, instead of obscurely laboring in a 
 
220 ENDYMION. 
 
 subordinate office, with a limited future, and detached from 
 all the keenly interesting details of public life. But it was not 
 this permanent and substantial advantage which occasioned 
 him such lively and such novel pleasure as the fact of his be- 
 ing a private secretary, and a private secretary to a cabinet 
 minister. 
 
 The relations between a minister and his secretary are, or 
 at least should be, among the finest that can subsist between 
 two individuals. Except the married state, there is none in 
 which so great a degree of confidence is involved, in which 
 more forbearance ought to be exercised, or more sympathy 
 ought to exist. There is usually in the relation an identity of 
 interest, and that of the highest kind ; and the perpetual dif- 
 ficulties, the alternations of triumph and defeat, develop devo- 
 tion. A youthful secretary will naturally feel some degree of 
 enthusiasm for his chief, and a wise minister will never stint 
 his regard for one in whose intelligence and honor he finds he 
 can place confidence. 
 
 Thsre never was a happier prospect of these relations being 
 established on the most satisfactory basis than in the instance 
 of Endymion and his new master. Mr. Sidney "Wilton was a 
 man of noble disposition, fine manners, considerable culture, 
 and was generally gracious. But he was disposed to be more 
 than gracious to Endymion, and when he found that our young 
 friend had a capacity for work — that his perception was quick 
 and clear — that he wrote with facility — never made difficulties 
 — ^was calm, sedulous, and patient, the interest which Mr. 
 Wilton took in him as the son of "William Ferrars, and, we 
 must add, as the brother of Lady Roehampton, became ab- 
 sorbed in the personal regard which the minister soon enter- 
 tained for his secretary. Mr. "Wilton found a pleasure in 
 forming the mind of Endymion to the consideration and com- 
 prehension of public affairs ; he spoke to him both of men and 
 things without reserve ; revealed to him the characters of lead- 
 ing personages on both sides, illustrated their antecedents, and 
 threw light upon their future ; taught him the real condition 
 of parties in Parliament, rarely to be found in newspapers ; 
 and finally, when he was sufficiently initiated, obtained for his 
 
ME, WILTOirS KINDNESS. 221 
 
 secretary a key for his cabinet boxes, wbich lef t little of tlie 
 business of government unknown to Endymion. 
 
 Such great confidence, and that exhibited by one who pos- 
 sessed so many winning qualities excited in the breast of En- 
 dymion the most lively feelings of gratitude and regard. He 
 tried to prove them by the vigilant and unwearying labor with 
 vrhich he served his master, and he served him every day more 
 effectually, because every day he became more intimate with 
 the mind and method of Mr. Wilton. Every one to a certain 
 degree is a mannerist ; every one has his ways ; and a secretary 
 will be assisted in the transaction of business if a vigilant ob- 
 servation has made him acquainted with the idiosyncrasy of 
 his chief. 
 
 The regulations of the office which authorize a clerk, ap- 
 pointed to a private secretaryship, to deviate from the routine 
 duties of the department, and devote his time entirely to the 
 special requirements of his master, of course much assisted En- 
 dymion, and was also a pleasant relief, for he had had enough 
 at Somerset House of copying documents and drawing up for- 
 mal reports. But it was not only at Whitehall that he saw Mr. 
 Wilton, and experienced his kindness. Endymion was a fre- 
 quent guest under Mr. Wilton's roof, and Mr. Wilton's estab- 
 lishment was one of the most distinguished in London. They 
 met also much in the evenings, and always at Lady Roehamp- 
 ton's, where Mr. Wilton was never absent. Whenever and 
 wherever they met, even if they had been working together the 
 whole morning, Mr. Wilton always greeted Endymion with the 
 utmost consideration — ^because he knew such a recognition 
 would raise Endymion in the eyes of the social herd, who al- 
 ways observe little things, and generally form from them their 
 opinions of gi'eat affairs. 
 
222 ENDYMIOK 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 Mr. Wilton was at Charing Cross, on his way to his office, 
 when a lady saluted him from her carriage, which then drew 
 up to the pavement and stopped. 
 
 *' We have just arrived," said Lady Montfort, *' and I want 
 you to give me a little dinner to-day. My lord is going to 
 dine with an Old Bailey lawyer, who amuses him, and I do not 
 like to be left, the first day, on the pave. " 
 
 " I can give you a rather large dinner, if you care to come," 
 said Mr. Wilton, *'but I fear you will not like it. I have got 
 some House of Commons men dining with me to-day, and one 
 or two of the other house to meet them. My sister Georgina 
 has very good-naturedly promised to come, with her husband, 
 and I have just written a note to the Duchess Dowager of Kes- 
 wick, who often helps me — but I fear this sort of thing would 
 hardly suit you." 
 
 *' On the contrary, I think it will be very amusing. Only 
 do not put me between two of your colleagues. Anybody 
 amuses me for once. A new acquaintance is like a new book. 
 I prefer it, even if bad, to a classic." 
 
 The dinner party to-day at Mr. Wilton's was miscellaneous, 
 and not heterogeneous enough to produce constraint, only to 
 produce a little excitement — some commoners high in office, 
 and the Treasury whip, several manufacturers who stood to- 
 gether in the room, and some metropolitan members. Georgi- 
 na's husband, who was a lord in waiting, and a great swell, in 
 a green ribbon, moved about with adroit condescension, and 
 was bewitchingly affable. The manufacturing members whis- 
 pered to each other that it was a wise thing to bring the two 
 houses together, but when Her Grace the Duchess Dowager of 
 Keswick was announced, they exchanged glances of astounded 
 satisfaction, and felt that the government, which had been 
 thought to be in a somewhat rickety condition, would certainly 
 stand. 
 
 Berengaria came a little late, not very. She thought it had 
 been earlier, but it was not. The duchess dowager opened her 
 
AT DINNER. 
 
 eyes with wonderment when she beheld Lady Montfort, but 
 the company in general were not in the least aware of the vast 
 social event that was occurring. They were gratified in seeing 
 another fine lady, but did not, of course, rank her with a 
 duchess. 
 
 The dinner went oil better than Mr. Wilton could have 
 hoped, as it was impossible to place a stranger by Lady Mont- 
 fort. He sat in the middle of his table with the duchess dow- 
 ager on his right and Berengaria, who was taken out by the 
 green ribbon, on the other. As he knew the green ribbon would 
 be soon exhausted, he devoted himself to Lady Montfort, and 
 left the duchess to her own resources, which were considerable, 
 and she was soon laying down her opinions on men and things 
 to her other neighbors with much effect. The manufacturers 
 talked shop to each other in whispers, that is to say, mixed 
 House of Commons tattle about bills and committees with 
 news from Manchester and Liverpool, and the West Riding. 
 The metropolitan members, then a more cosmopolitan body 
 and highly miscellaneous in their character and pursuits, were 
 louder, and perhaps more easy, even ventured to talk across 
 the table when near its end, and enticed the peers into discus- 
 sions on foreign politics. 
 
 Mr. Sidney Wilton having been delightful, thought it ne- 
 cessary to 'observe that he feared Lady Montfort had been 
 bored. "I have been, and am, extremely amused," she re- 
 plied, ''and now tell me, who is that young man at the very 
 end of the table ? " 
 
 "That is my private secretary, Mr. Ferrars." 
 
 "Ferrars!" 
 
 " A brother of Lady Roehampton." 
 
 "Present him to me after dinner." 
 
 Endymion .knew Lady Montfort by sight, though she did 
 not know him. He had seen her more than once at the recep- 
 tions of Mrs. Neuchatel, where, as indeed in every place, she 
 was the cynosure. He was much astonished at meeting her at 
 this party to-day — almost as surprised as the duchess dowager, 
 for Endymion, who was of an observant nature, was beginning 
 to comprehend society and all its numerous elements, and 
 
224 ENBYMION. 
 
 schools, and shades, and classes. When they entered the 
 saloon, Mr. Wilton led Endymion up to Lady Montfort at 
 once, and she immediately inquired after his sister. " Do you 
 think," she said, " Lady Roehampton would see me to-morrow 
 if I called on her ? " 
 
 "If I were Lady Roehampton, I would," said Endymion. 
 
 Lady Montfort looked at him with a glance of curious scru- 
 tiny ; not smiling, and yet not displeased. "I will write her 
 a little note in the morning," said Lady Montfort thought- 
 fully. ** One may leave cards for ever. Mr. Wilton tells me 
 you are quite his right hand." 
 
 " Mr. Wilton is too kind to me," said Endymion. " One 
 could not be excused for not doing one's best for such a 
 master." 
 
 " You like people to be kind to you ? " said Lady Montfort. 
 
 " Well, I have not met with so much kindness in this world 
 as to have become insensible to it." 
 
 "You are too young to be melancholy," said Lady Mont- 
 fort ; "are you older than Lady Roehampton ?" 
 
 "We are twins." 
 
 " Twins ! and wonderfully like too ! Is it not thought 
 
 BO?" 
 
 "I have sometimes heard it mentioned." 
 
 " Oh, it is striking ! " said Lady Montfort, arid she mo- 
 tioned to him to sit down by her ; and then she began to talk 
 politics, and asked him what the members thought at dinner 
 of the prospects of the government, and what he had heard of 
 the malcontent movement that they said was in petto. En- 
 dymion replied that Mr. Sharpset, the Secretary of the Treas- 
 ury, did not think much of it. 
 
 " Well, I wish I did not," said Lady Montfort. "However, 
 I will soon find out something about it. I have only just 
 come to town ; but I intend to open my house immediately. 
 Now I must go. What are you going to do with yourself to- 
 morrow ? I wish you would come and dine with Lord Mont- 
 fort. It will be quite without form, a few agreeable and amus- 
 ing people ; Lord Montfort must be amused. It seems a rea- 
 sonable fancy, but very difficult to realize ; and now you shall 
 
ST. BARBE'S RETURN. 225 
 
 ask for my carriage, and to-morrow I hope to be able to tell 
 Lady Eoehampton what very great pleasure I have had in mak- 
 ing the acquaintance of her brother. '' 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 The morning after, Endymion was emerging from the 
 
 court yard of the Albany, in order to call on Mr. Rodney, who, 
 
 as he learned from a casual remark in a letter from Walder- 
 
 share, would be in town. The ladies were left behind for the 
 
 last week of hunting, but business called Mr. Rodney home. 
 
 Waldershare wrote to Endymion in the highest spirits, and 
 
 more than once declared that he was the happiest of men. 
 
 Just as Endymion had entered Piccadilly, he was stopped by a 
 
 once familiar face ; it was St. Barbe, who accosted him with 
 
 great warmth, and as usual began to talk about himself. " You 
 
 are surprised to see me," he said. "It is two years since we 
 
 met. Well, I have done wonders ; carried all before me. By 
 
 Jove, sir, I can walk into a minister's private room with as 
 
 much ease as if I were entering the old den. The ambassadors 
 
 are hand and glove with me. There are very few things I do 
 
 not know. I have made the fortune of the ' Chuck Farthing,' 
 
 trebled its circulation, and invented a new style, which has put 
 
 me at the head of all 'our own correspondents.' I wish you 
 
 were at Paris ; I would give you a dinner at the Rocher, which 
 
 would make up for all our dinners at that ferocious ruffian, 
 
 Joe's. I gave a dinner the other day to forty of them, all 
 
 'our own correspondents,' or such like. Do you know, my 
 
 dear fellow, when I looked round the room, there was not a man 
 
 who had not done his best to crush me ; running down my 
 
 works or not noticing them, or continually dilating on Gushy, 
 
 as if the English public would never read anything else. Now, 
 
 that was Christian-like of me, was not it ? God, sir, if they 
 
 only had but one neck, and I had been the Emperor ISTero — but, 
 
 I will not dwell on it ; I hate them. However, it suits me to 
 
 take the other line at present. I am all for fraternity and that 
 o 
 
226 EFDYMION. 
 
 sort of thing, and give them dinners. There is a reason why, 
 but there is no time to talk about that now. I shall want their 
 sweet voices — the hounds ! But, my dear fellow, I am truly 
 glad to see you. Do you know, I always liked you ; and how 
 come you to be in this quarter this fine morning ? " 
 
 "I live in the Albany," said Endymion. 
 
 "You live in the Albany!" repeated St. Barbe, with an 
 amazed and perturbed expression. "I knew I could not be a 
 knight of the garter, or a member of White's — the only two 
 things an Englishman can not command ; but I did think I 
 might some day live in the Albany. It was my dream. And 
 you live there ! Gracious ! what an unfortunate fellow I am. 
 I do not see how you can live in the Albany with your salary ; 
 I suppose they have raised you." 
 
 '*I have left Somerset House," said Endymion, "and am 
 now at the Board of Trade, and am private secretary to Mr. 
 Sidney Wilton." 
 
 "Oh !" said St. Barbe; "then we have friends at court. 
 You may do something for me, if I only knew what I wanted. 
 They have no decorations here. Curse this aristocratic country, 
 they want all the honors to themselves. I should like to be in 
 the Board of Trade, and would make some sacrifice for it. 
 The proprietors of the * Chuck Farthing ' pay well ; they pay 
 like gentlemen ; though, why I say so I do not exactly know, 
 for no gentleman ever paid me anything. But, if I could be 
 Secretary of the Board of Trade, or get £1,500 a year secure, I 
 would take it ; and I dare say I could get employed on some 
 treaties, as I speak French, and then I might get knighted." 
 
 ^* Well, I think you are very well off," said Endymion ; " car- 
 rying, as you say, everything before you. What more can you 
 want?" 
 
 "I hate the craft," said St. Barbe, with an expression of 
 genuine detestation ; " I should like to show them all up before 
 I died. I suppose it was your sister marrying a lord that got- 
 you on in this way. I could have married a countess myself, 
 but then, to be sure, she was only a Polish one, and hard up. 
 I never had a sister ; I never had any luck in life at all. I wish 
 I had been a woman. Women are the only people who get on. 
 
EKDYMION LEAVES THE RODNEVS. 227 
 
 A man works all his life, and thinks he has done a wonderful 
 thing if, with one leg in the grave and no hair on his head, he 
 manages to get a coronet ; and a woman dances at a ball with 
 some young fellow or other, or sits next to some old fellow at 
 dinner and pretends she thinks him charming, and he makes 
 her a peeress on the spot. Oh ! it is a disgusting world ; it 
 must end in revolution. K"ow you tell your master, Mr. Sid- 
 ney Wilton, that if he wants to strengthen the institutions of 
 this country, the government should establish an order of merit, 
 and the press ought to be represented in it. I do not speak 
 only for myself ; I speak for my brethren. Yes, sir, I am not 
 ashamed of my order." 
 
 And so they bade each other farewell. 
 
 " Unchanged," thought Endymion, as he crossed Piccadilly. 
 ^'The vainest, the most envious, and the most amusing of men! 
 I wonder what he will do in life." 
 
 Mr. Rodney was at home, had just finished his breakfast, 
 read his newspaper, and was about to "go into the City." His 
 costume was perfect. Mr. Eodney's hat seemed always a new 
 ono. Endymion was a little embarrassed by this interview, for 
 he had naturally a kind heart, and being young, it was still soft. 
 The Rodneys had been truly good to him, and he was attached 
 to them. Imogene had prepared Mr. Rodney for the change in 
 Endymion's life, and Endymion himself had every reason to be- 
 lieve that in a worldly point of view the matter was entirely in- 
 significant to his old landlord. Still his visit this morning 
 ratified a permanent separation from those with whom he had 
 lived for a long time, and under circumstances of sympathy and 
 family connection which were touching. He retained Mr. Rod- 
 ney's hand for a moment as he expressed, and almost in falter- 
 ing tones, his sorrow at their separation and his hope that their 
 friendly connection might be always cherished. 
 
 " That feeling is reciprocal," said Mr. Rodney. *'If only 
 because you were the son of my revered and right honorable 
 friend, you would always be esteemed here. But you are es- 
 teemed, or, I may say beloved, for your own sake. We shall be 
 proud to be considered with kindness by you, and I echo your 
 wish that, though no longer living under the sam.e roof, we 
 
228 ENDYMION. 
 
 may yet, and even often, meet. But do not say anotlier word 
 about the inconvenience you are occasioning us. The truth is, 
 that although wherever we went the son of my revered and right 
 honorable friend would have always commanded hospitality 
 from us, there are many changes about to take place in our fam- 
 ily which have made us for some time contemplate leaving War- 
 wick Street. Affairs, especially of late, have gone pretty well 
 with me in the world — at least not badly ; I have had fi'iends, 
 and I hope have proved not undeserving of them. I wish Syl- 
 via, too, to live in an airier situation, near the park, so that she 
 may ride every morning. Besides, I have a piece of news to 
 communicate to you, which would materially affect our arrange- 
 ments. We are going to lose Imogene." 
 
 ** Ah ! she is going to be married," said Endymion, blush- 
 ing. 
 
 ** She is going to be married," said Mr. Rodney, gravely. 
 
 ** To Mr. Waldershare ? " said Endymion. "He almost 
 said as much to me in a letter this morning. But I always 
 thought so." 
 
 "No ; not to Mr. Waldershare," said Mr. Rodney. 
 
 "Who is the happy man then ?" said Endymion agitated. 
 "I truly call him so ; for I think myself that Imogene is per- 
 fection." 
 
 "Imogene is about to be married to the Earl of Beau- 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 SiMON", Earl of Montfort, with whom Endymion was so 
 unexpectedly going to dine, may be said to have been a minor 
 in his cradle. Under ordinary circumstances, his inheritance 
 would have been one of the most considerable in England. 
 His castle in the north was one of the glories of the land, and 
 becomingly crowned his vast domain. Under the old parlia- 
 mentary system, he had the greatest number of nomination 
 boroughs possessed by any Whig noble. The character and 
 conduct of an individual so qualified were naturally much 
 
LORD MONTFOET, 220 
 
 speculated on and finely scanned. JSTothing very decided tran- 
 spired about tliem in his boyhood, but certainly nothing ad- 
 verse. He was good-looking and athletic, and was said to be 
 generous and good-natured, and when he went to Harrow, he 
 became popular. In his eighteenth year, while he was in cor- 
 respondence with his guardians about going to Christchurch, 
 he suddenly left his country without giving any one notice of 
 his intentions, and entered into, and fulfilled, a vast scheme of 
 adventurous travel. He visited countries then rarely reached, 
 and some of which were almost unknown. His flag had floated 
 in the Indian ocean, and he had penetrated the dazzling mys- 
 teries of Brazilian forests. When he was of age, he returned, 
 and communicated with his guardians, as if nothing remark- 
 able had happened in his life. Lord Montfort had inherited a 
 celebrated stud, which the family had maintained for more 
 than a century, and the sporting world remarked with satisfac- 
 tion that their present representative appeared to take much 
 interest in it. He had an establishment at Newmarket, and 
 his horses were entered for all the great races of the kingdom. 
 He appeared also at Melton, and conducted the campaign in a 
 style becoming such a hero. His hunters and his cooks were 
 both first-rate. Although he affected to take little interest in 
 politics, the events of the time forced him to consider them 
 and to act. Lord Grey wanted to carry his Reform Bill, and 
 the sacrifice of Lord Montfort's numerous boroughs was a 
 necessary ingredient in the spell. He was appealed to as the 
 head of one of the greatest Whig houses, and he was offered » 
 dukedom. He relinquished his boroughs without hesitation, 
 but he preferred to remain with one of the oldest earldoms of 
 England for his chief title. All honors, however, clustered 
 about him, though he never sought them, and in the same 
 year he tumbled into the Lord Lieutenancy of his county, un- 
 expectedly vacant, and became the youngest Knight of the 
 Garter. 
 
 Society was looking forward with the keenest interest to 
 the impending season, when Lord Montfort would formally 
 enter its spellbound ranks, and multiform were the specula- 
 tions on his destiny. He attended an early levee, in order 
 
230 EIWYMION. 
 
 that he might be presented — a needful ceremony which had 
 not yet taken place — and then again quitted his country, and 
 for years. He was heard of in every capital except his own. 
 Wonderful exploits at St. Petersburg, and Paris, and Madrid, 
 deeds of mark at Vienna, and eccentric adventures at Rome ; 
 but poor Melton, alas ! expecting him to return every season, 
 at last embalmed him, and his cooks, and his hunters, and his 
 daring saddle, as a tradition — jealous a little of Newmarket, 
 whither, though absent, he was frequently transmitting for- 
 eign blood, and where his horses still ran, and were often 
 victorious. 
 
 At last it would appear that the restless Lord Montfort had 
 found his place, and that place was Paris. There he dwelt for 
 years in Sybaritic seclusion. He built himself a palace, which 
 he called a villa, and which was the most fanciful of structures, 
 and full of every beautiful object which rare taste and bound- 
 less wealth could procure, from undoubted Raffaelles to jeweled 
 toys. It was said that Lord Montfort saw no one ; he certainly 
 did not court or receive his own countrymen, and this perhaps 
 gave rise to, or at least caused to be exaggerated, the tales that 
 were rife of his profusion, and even his profligacy. But it was 
 not true that he was entirely isolated. He lived much with the 
 old families of France in their haughty faubourg, and was highly 
 considered by them. It was truly a circle for which he was 
 adapted. Lord Montfort was the only living Englishman who 
 gave one an idea of the nobleman of the eighteenth century. 
 He was totally devoid of the sense of responsibility, and he 
 looked what he resembled. His manner, though simple and 
 natural, was finished and refined, and, free from forbidding 
 reserve, was yet characterized by an air of serious grace. 
 
 With the exception of the memorable year when he sacri- 
 ficed his nomination boroughs to the cause for which Hampden 
 died on the field and Sidney on the scaffold — that is to say, the 
 Whig government of England, Lord Montfort had been absent 
 from his country for ten years, and one day, in his statued gar- 
 den at the Belvedere, he asked himself what he had gained by 
 it ? There was no subject divine or human in which he took 
 the slightest interest. He entertained for human nature gen- 
 
SCIENCE AND FISHING. 231 
 
 erally, and without any exception, the most cynical appreciation. 
 He had a sincere and profound conviction, that no man or wo- 
 man ever acted except from selfish and interested motives. 
 Society was intolerable to him ; that of his own sex and sta- 
 tion wearisome beyond expression ; their conversation consisted 
 only of two subjects, horses and women, and he had long ex- 
 hausted both. As for female society, if they were ladies, it was 
 expected that, in some form or other, he should make love to 
 them, and he had no sentiment. If he took refuge in the 
 demi-monde, he encountered vulgarity, and that, to Lord Mont- 
 fort, was insufferable. He had tried them in every capital, and 
 vulgarity was the badge of all their tribe. He had attempted 
 to read ; a woman had told him to read French novels, but he 
 found them only a clumsy representation of the life which, for 
 years, he had practically been leading. An accident made him 
 acquainted with Eabelais and Montaigne ; and he had relished 
 them, for he had a fine sense of humor. He might have pur- 
 sued these studies, and perhaps have found in them a slight 
 and occasional distraction, but a clever man he met at a guin- 
 gette at Passy, where he had gone to try to dissipate his weari- 
 ness in disguise, had convinced him, that if there were a worthy 
 human pursuit, an assumption which was doubtful, it was that 
 of science, as it impressed upon man his utter insignificance. 
 
 No one could say Lord Montfort was a bad-hearted man, 
 for he had no heart. He was good-natured, provided it brought 
 him no inconvenience ; and as for temper, his was never dis- 
 turbed, but this not from sweetness of disposition, rather from 
 a contemptuous fine taste, which assured him that a gentleman 
 should never be deprived of tranquillity in a world where no- 
 thing was of the slightest consequence. 
 
 The result of these reflections was, that he was utterly 
 wearied with Belvedere and Paris, and as his mind was now 
 rather upon science, he fancied he should like to return to a 
 country where it flourished, and where he indulged in plans of 
 erecting colossal telescopes, and of promoting inquiry into the 
 origin of things. He thought that with science and with fish- 
 ing, tlie only sport to which he still really clung, for he liked 
 the lulling influence of running streams, and a pastime he 
 
232 ENDYMIOK 
 
 could pursue in loneliness, existence might perhaps be en- 
 dured. 
 
 Society was really surprised when they heard of the return 
 of Lord Montf ort to England. He came back in the autumn, 
 so that there should be no season to encounter, and his flag was 
 soon flying at his castle. There had been continuous attacks 
 for years on the government for haying made an absentee lord 
 lieutenant of his county, and conferring the high distinction 
 of the garter on so profligate a character. All this made his re- 
 turn more interesting and exciting. 
 
 A worthy nobleman of high rank and of the same county, 
 who, for the last five years everybody, shaking everybody's head, 
 had been saying ought to have been lord lieutenant, had a great 
 county function in his immediate neighborhood in the late au- 
 tumn, and had invited a large party to assist him in its celebra- 
 tion. It seemed right also to invite the lord lieutenant, but no 
 one expected that he would make his appearance. On the con- 
 trary, the invitation was accepted, and the sensation was great. 
 What would he be like, and what would he do, and was he so 
 very wicked as the county newspaper said ? He came, this 
 wicked man, with his graceful presence and his diamond star, 
 and everybody's heart palpitated with a due mixture of terror 
 and admiration. The only exception to these feelings was the 
 daughter of the house, the Lady Berengaria. She was then in 
 her second season, but still unparagoned, for she was a fastidious, 
 not to say disdainful lady. The highest had been at her feet, 
 and sued in vain. She was a stirring spirit, with great ambi- 
 tion and a daring will ; never content except in society, and in- 
 fluencing it — for which she was qualified by her grace and lively 
 fancy, her ready though capricious sympathy, and her passion 
 for admiration. 
 
 The function was successful, and the county full of en- 
 thusiasm for their lord lieutenant, whose manner quite cleared 
 his character. The party did not break up, in fact the func- 
 tion was only an excuse for the party. There was sport of all 
 kinds, and in the evenings a carnival — for Lady Berengaria re- 
 quired everybody about her to be gay and diverting — games and 
 dances, and infinite frolic. Lord Montfort, who, to the surprise 
 
LADY BERENGARIA. 233 
 
 of every one, did not depart, spoke to her a little, and perhaps 
 would not have spoken at all, had they not met in the hunting- 
 field. Lady Berengaria was a first-rate horsewoman, and really 
 in the saddle looked irresistible. 
 
 The night before the party, which had lasted a week, broke 
 up. Lord Montfort came and sat by Lady Berengaria. He 
 spoke about the run of the morning, and she replied in the 
 same vein. '^ I have got a horse. Lady Berengaria, which I 
 should like you to ride. Would you do so ? " 
 
 " Certainly, and what sort of horse is it ? " 
 
 " You shall see to-morrow. It is not far off. I like to have 
 some horses always near," and then he walked away. 
 
 It was a dark chestnut of matchless beauty. Lady Beren- 
 garia, who was of an emphatic nature, was loud in her admira- 
 tion of its beauty and its hunting qualities. 
 
 "I agree with you," said Lord Montfort, "that it will spoil 
 you for any other horse, and, therefore, I shall ask permission 
 to leave it here for your use." 
 
 The party broke up, but, strange to say. Lord Montfort did 
 not depart. It was a large family. Lady Berengaria had sev- 
 eral sisters ; her eldest brother was master of the hounds, and 
 her younger brothers were asserting their rights as cadets, and 
 killing their father's pheasants. There was also a number of 
 cousins, who were about the same age, and were always laugh- 
 ing, though it was never quite clear what it was about. An 
 affectation of gayety may be sometimes detected in youth. 
 
 As Lord Montfort always had the duty of ushering the 
 lady of the house to dinner, he never had the opportunity of 
 conversing with Lady Berengaria, even had he wished it ; but 
 it was not at all clear that he did wish it, and it seemed that 
 he talked as much to her sisters and the laughing cousins as to 
 herself, but still he did not go away, which was most strange, 
 and commenced to be embarrassing. 
 
 At last one evening, both her parents slumbering, one over 
 the newspaper and the other over her work, and the rest of the 
 party in a distant room playing at some new game amid occa- 
 sional peals of laughter, Lord Montfort, who had been sitting 
 for some time by Lady Berengaria's side, and only asking now 
 
23i EKDYMIOK 
 
 and then a question, though often a searching one, in order to 
 secure her talking to him, rather abruptly said, "I wonder if 
 anything would ever induce you to marry me ? " 
 
 This was the most startling social event of the generation. 
 Society immediately set a-wondering how it would turn out, 
 and proved very clearly that it must turn out badly. Men who 
 knew Montfort well at Paris looked knowing, and said they 
 would give it six months. 
 
 But the lady was as remarkable as a woman as the bride- 
 groom was in his sex. Lady Berengaria was determined to be 
 the Queen of Society, and had confidence in her unlimited 
 influence over man. It is, however, rather difficult to work on 
 the feelings of a man who has no heart. This she soon found 
 out, and to her dismay, but she kept it a profound secret. By 
 endless ingenuity on her part affairs went on very well much 
 longer than the world expected, and long enough to fulfill the 
 object of Lady Berengaria's life. Lord Montfort launched his 
 wife well, and seemed even content to be occasionally her com- 
 panion until she had mounted the social throne. He was proud 
 of her as he would be of one of his beautiful horses ; but when 
 all the world had acknowledged the influence of Berengaria, he 
 fell into one of his old moods, and broke to her that he could 
 bear it no longer, and that he must retire from society. Lady 
 Montfort looked distressed, but, resolved under no circum- 
 stances to be separated from her husband, whom she greatly 
 admired, and to whom, had he wished it, she could have be- 
 come even passionately attached, signified her readiness to share 
 his solitude. But she then found out that this was not what 
 he wanted. It was not only retirement from society, but re- 
 tirement from Lady Montfort that was indispensable. In 
 short, at no time of his perverse career had Lord Montfort 
 been more willful. 
 
 During the last years of his residence in Paris, when he was 
 shut up in his delicious Belvidere, he had complained much of 
 the state of his health, and one of his principal pursuits was 
 consulting the faculty on this interesting subject. The faculty 
 were unanimous in their opinion that the disorder from which 
 their patient was suffering was Ennui, This persistent opinion 
 
INTEREST AND AMUSEMENT. 235 
 
 irritated liim, and was one of the elements of his decision to 
 leave the country. The unexpected distraction that followed 
 his return to his native land had made him neglect or forget 
 his sad indisposition, but it appears that it had now returned, 
 and in an aggravated form. Unhappily the English physicians 
 took much the same view of the case as their French brethren. 
 They could find nothing organically wrong in the constitution 
 or condition of Lord Montfort, and recommended occupation 
 and society. At present he shrunk with some disgust at the 
 prospect of returning to France, and he had taken it into his 
 head that the climate of Montfort did not agree with him. He 
 was convinced that he must live in the south of England. One 
 of the most beautiful and considerable estates in that favored 
 part of our country v/as virtually in the market, and Lord Mont- 
 fort, at the cost of half a million, became the proprietor of Prince- 
 down. And here he announced that he should dwell and die. 
 This state of affairs was a bitter trial to the proudest woman 
 in England, but Lady Montfort was also one of the most able. 
 She resisted nothing, sympathized with all his projects, and 
 watched her opportunity when she could extract from his un- 
 conscious good-nature some reasonable modification of them. 
 And she ultimately succeeded in establishing a modus vivendi. 
 He was to live and die at Princedown ; that was settled ; but 
 if he ever came to town, to consult his physicians for example, 
 he was always to inhabit Montfort House, and if she occasion- 
 ally required a whiff of southern air, she was to have her rooms 
 always ready for her at Princedown. She would not interfere 
 with him in the least ; he need not even see her, if he were too 
 unwell. Then as to the general principle of his life, it was 
 quite clear that he was not interested in anything, and never 
 would be interested in anything ; but there was no reason that 
 he should not be amused. This distinction between interest 
 and amusement rather pleased and seemed to satisfy Lord 
 Montfort — but then it was dilficult to amuse him. The only 
 thing that ever amused him, he said, were his wife's letters, and 
 as he was the most selfish, as well as the most polite of men, 
 he requested her to write to him every day. Great personages, 
 who are selfish and whimsical, are generally surrounded by 
 
236 ENDTMIOK 
 
 parasites and buffoons, but this would not suit Lord Montfort ; 
 he sincerely detested flattery, and he wearied in eight-and- 
 forty hours of the most successful mountebank in society. 
 What he seemed inclined to was the society of men of science, 
 of travelers in rare parts, and of clever artists, in short of all 
 persons who had what he called "idiosyncrasy." Civil engi- 
 neering was then beginning to attract general attention, and 
 Lord Montfort liked the society of civil engineers ; but what 
 he liked most were self-formed men, and to learn the secret of 
 their success, and how they made their fortune. After the 
 first fit of Princedown was over. Lord Montfort found that it 
 was impossible, even with all its fascination, to secure a con- 
 stant, or sufificient, presence of civil engineers in such distant 
 parts, and so he got into the habit of coming up to Montfort 
 House, that he might find companions and be amused. Lady 
 Montfort took great pains that he should not be disappointed, 
 and catered for him with all the skill of an accomplished chef. 
 Then, when the occasion served, she went down to Princedown 
 herself with welcome guests — and so it turned out, that circum- 
 stances, which treated by an ordinary mind must have led to a 
 social scandal, were so adroitly manipulated, that the world 
 little apprehended the real and somewhat mortifying state of 
 affairs. With the utmost license of ill-nature, they could not 
 suppose that Lord and Lady Montfort, living under the same 
 roof, might scarcely see each other for weeks, and that his 
 communications with her, and indeed generally, were always 
 made in writing. 
 
 Lady Montfort never could agree with her husband in the 
 cardinal assumption of his philosophy. One of his reasons for 
 never doing anything, was that there was nothing for him to 
 attain. He had got everything. Here they at once separated 
 in their conclusions. Lady Montfort maintained they had 
 got nothing. "What," she would say, "are rank and wealth 
 to us ? We were born to them. We want something that we 
 were not born to. You reason like a parvenu. Of course, if 
 you had created your rank and your riches you might rest on 
 your oars, and find excitement in the recollection of what you 
 had achieved. A man of your position ought to govern the 
 
A WONDERFUL MYSTIFICATION. * 237 
 
 country, and it always was so in old days. Your family were 
 prime ministers ; why not you, with as much talent, and much 
 more knowledge ? " 
 
 "You would make a yery good prime minister, Beren- 
 garia." 
 
 " Ah ! you always jest. I am serious." 
 
 "And so am I. If I ever am to work, I would sooner be a 
 civil engineer than a prime minister." 
 
 Nothing but the indomitable spirit of Lady Montfort could 
 fight successfully against such obstacles to her schemes of 
 power as were presented by the peculiar disposition of her lord. 
 Her receptions every Saturday night during the season were the 
 most important of social gatherings, but she held them alone. 
 It was by consummate skill that she had prevailed upon her 
 lord occasionally appearing at their preceding banquets, and 
 when they were over, he flitted for an instant and disappeared. 
 At first, he altogether refused, but then Lady Montfort would 
 induce Eoyalty, always kind, to condescend to express a wish 
 to dine at Montfort House, and that was a gracious intimation 
 it was impossible not to act upon, and then, as Lady Montfort 
 would say, " I trust much to the periodical visits of that dear 
 Queen of Mesopotamia. He must entertain her, for his father 
 was her lover." 
 
 In this wonderful mystification, by which Lord Montfort 
 was made to appear as living in a society which he scarcely 
 ever entered, his wife was a little assisted by his visits to New- 
 market, which he even frequently attended. He never made 
 a bet or a new acquaintance, but he seemed to like meeting 
 men with whom he had been at school. There is certainly a 
 magic in the memory of school-boy friendships ; it softens the 
 heart, and even affects the nervous system of those who have 
 no hearts. Lord Montfort at Newmarket would ask half a 
 dozen men who had been at school with him, and were now 
 members of the Jockey Club, to be his guests, and the next day 
 all over the heath, and after the heath, all over May Fair and 
 Belgravia, you heard only one speech, "I dined yesterday," or 
 "the other day," as the case might be, "with Montfort ; out 
 and out the best dinner I ever had, and such an agreeable fel- 
 
238 ' ENDYMIOK 
 
 low ; the wittiest, the most amnsing, certainly the most charm- 
 ing fellow that ever lived ; out and out ! It is a pity he does 
 not show a little more. " And society thought the same ; 
 they thought it a pity, and a great one, that this fascinating 
 being of whom they rarely caught a glimpse, and who to them 
 took the form of a wasted and unsympathizing phantom, 
 should not show a little more and delight them. But the most 
 curious thing was, that however rapturous were his guests, the 
 feelings of their host after they had left him were by no means 
 reciprocal. On the contrary, he would remark to himself, 
 " Have I heard a single thing worth remembering ? Not 
 one." 
 
 CHAPTER JAIL 
 
 Endymion" was a little agitated when he arrived at the 
 door of Montfort House, a huge family mansion, situate in a 
 court-yard and looking into the Green Park. When the door 
 was opened he found himself in a large hall with many ser- 
 vants, and he was ushered through several rooms on the ground 
 floor, into a capacious chamber dimly lighted, where there 
 were several gentlemen, but not his hostess. His name waa 
 announced, and then a young man came up to him and men- 
 tioned that Lord and Lady Montfort would soon be present, 
 and then talked to him about the weather. The Count of 
 Ferroll arrived after Endymion, and then another gentleman 
 whose name he could not catch. Then while he was making 
 some original observations on the east wind, and, to confess the 
 truth, feeling anything but at his ease, the folding doors of a 
 further chamber brilliantly lighted were thrown open, and 
 almost at the same moment Lady Montfort entered, and, tak- 
 ing the Count of Ferroll's arm, walked into the dining-room. 
 It was a round table, and Endymion was told by the same gen- 
 tleman who had already addressed him, that he was to sit by 
 Lady Montfort. 
 
 "Lord Montfort is a little late to-day," she said, "but he 
 wished me not to wait for him. And how are you after our 
 
THE COUNT OF FEEROLL. 239 
 
 parliamentary banquet ?" she said, turning to Endymion ; "I 
 will introduce you to the Count of Ferroll." 
 
 The Count of Ferroll was a young man, and yet inclined to 
 be bald. He was chief of a not inconsiderable mission at our 
 court. Though not to be described as a handsome man, his 
 countenance was striking ; a brow of much intellectual devel- 
 opment, and a massive jaw. He was tall, broad-shouldered, 
 with a slender waist. He gi'eeted Endymion with a penetrat- 
 ing glance, and then with a winning smile. 
 
 The Count of Ferroll was the representative of a kingdom 
 which, if not exactly created, had been molded into a certain 
 form of apparent strength and importance by the Congress of 
 Vienna. He was a noble of considerable estate in a country 
 where possessions were not extensive or fortunes large, though 
 it was ruled by an ancient, and haughty, and warlike aristoc- 
 racy. Like his class, the Count of Ferroll had received a 
 military education ; but when that education was completed, 
 he found but a feeble prospect of his acquirements being called 
 into action. It was believed that the age of great wars had 
 ceased, and that even revolutions were for the future to be con- 
 trolled by diplomacy. As he was a man of an original, not to 
 say eccentric, turn of mind, the Count of Ferroll was not con- 
 tented with the resources and distraction of his second-rate 
 capital. He was an eminent sportsman, and, for some time, 
 took refuge and found excitement in the breadth of his dark 
 forests, and in the formation of a stud, which had already be- 
 come celebrated. But all this time, even in the excitement of 
 the chase^ and in the raising of his rare bred steeds, the Count 
 of Ferroll might be said to have been brooding over the posi- 
 tion of what he could scarcely call his country, but rather an 
 aggregation of lands baptized by protocols, and christened and 
 consolidated by treaties which he looked upon as eminently 
 untrustworthy. One day he surprised his sovereign, with 
 whom he was a favorite, by requesting to be appointed to the 
 legation at London, which was vacant. The appointment was 
 at once made, and the Count of Ferroll had now been two 
 years at the Court of St. James'. 
 
 The Count of Ferroll was a favorite in English society, for 
 
240 END Y MI OK 
 
 he possessed every quality which there conduces to success. 
 He was of great family and of distinguished appearance, muni- 
 ficent and singularly frank ; was a dead-shot, and the boldest 
 of riders, with horses which were the admiration alike of Mel- 
 ton and Newmarket. The ladies also approved of him, for he 
 was a consummate waltzer, and mixed with a badinage gayly 
 cynical a tone that could be tender and a bewitching smile. 
 
 But his great friend was Lady Montfort. He told her 
 everything, and consulted her on everything ; and though he 
 rarely praised anybody, it had reached her ears that the Count 
 of FerroU had said more than once that she was a greater 
 woman than Louise of Savoy or the Duchesse de Longuevilie. 
 
 There was a slight rustling in the room. A gentleman had 
 entered and glided into his unoccupied chair, which his valet 
 had guarded. "I fear I am not in time for an oyster," said 
 Lord Montfort to his neighbor. 
 
 The gentleman who had first spoken to Endymion was the 
 secretary of Lord Montfort ; then there was a great genius who 
 was projecting a suspension bridge over the Tjrrie, and that was 
 in Lord Montfort's country. A distinguished officer of the 
 British Museum completed the party with a person who sat 
 opposite Endymion, and whom in the dim twilight he had not 
 recognized, but whom he now beheld with no little emotion. 
 It was Nigel Penruddock. They had not met since his moth- 
 er's funeral, and the associations of the past agitated En- 
 dymion. They exchanged recognitions ; that of Nigel was grave 
 but kind. 
 
 The conversation was what is called general, and a great 
 deal on suspension bridges. Lord Montfort himself led off on 
 this, in order to bring out his distinguished guest. The Count 
 of Ferroll was also interested on this subject, as his own govern- 
 ment was making inquiries on the matter. The gentleman 
 from the British Museum made some remarks on the mode in 
 which the ancient Egyptians moved masses of granite, and 
 quoted Herodotus to the civil engineer. The civil engineer 
 had never heard of Herodotus, but he said he was going to 
 Egypt in the autumn by desire of Mehemet Ali, and he would 
 undertake to move any mass which was requisite, even if it 
 
EN^DYMION AND LORD MONTFORT. 241 
 
 were a pyramid itself. Lady Montfort, without disturbing the 
 general conversation, whispered in turns to the Count of Fer- 
 roll and Endymion, and told the latter that she had paid a 
 visit to LadyrKoehampton in the morning — a most delightful 
 visit. There was no person she admired so much as his sister ; 
 she quite loved her. The only person who was silent was Ni- 
 gel, but Lady Montfort, who perceived everything, addressed 
 him across the table with enthusiasm about some changes he 
 had made in the services of some church, and the countenance 
 of Nigel became suffused like a young saint who has a glimpse 
 of paradise. 
 
 After dinner Lady Montfort led Endymion to her lord, and 
 left him seated by his host ; Lord Montfort was affable and nat- 
 ural in his manner. He said, " I have not yet made the ac- 
 quaintance of Lady Roehampton, for I never go out ; but I 
 hope to do so, for Lady Montfort tells me she is quite capti- 
 vating." 
 
 ** She is a very good sister," said Endymion. 
 
 " Lady Montfort has told me a great deal about yourself, 
 and all of it I was glad to hear. I like young men who rise 
 by their merits, and Mr. Sidney Wilton tells Lady Montfort that 
 yours are distinguished." 
 
 ''Mr. Sidney Wilton is a kind master, sir." 
 
 " Well, I was his fag at Harrow, and I thought him so," 
 said Lord Montfort. ''And now about your office ; tell me 
 what you do. You were not there first. Lady Montfort says. 
 Where were you first ? Tell me all about it. I like detail." 
 
 It was impossible to resist such polished and amiable curi- 
 osity, and Endymion gratified it with youthful grace. He even 
 gave Lord Montfort a sketch of St. Barbe, inspired probably 
 by the interview of the morning. Lord Montfort was quite 
 amused with this, and said he should so much like to know- 
 Mr. St. Barbe. It was clear, when the party broke up, that 
 Endymion had made a favorable impression, for Lord Montfort 
 said, "You came here to-day as Lady Montfort's friend, but 
 you must come in future as mine also. And will you under- 
 stand, I dine at home every day when I am in town, and I give 
 you a general invitation. Come as often as you like ; you will 
 
 p 11 
 
242 ENJDYMION. 
 
 be always welcome. Only let the house know your intention 
 an hour before dinner-time, as I have a particular aversion to 
 the table being crowded, or seeing an empty chair." 
 
 Lady Montfort had passed much of the evening in earnest 
 conversation with Nigel, and when the guests quitted tlie 
 room, Nigel and Endymion walked away together. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 The meeting between Nigel and Endymion was not an or- 
 dinary one, and when they were at length alone, neither of 
 them concealed his feelings of pleasure and surprise at its oc- 
 currence. Nigel had been a curate in the northern town which 
 was defended by Lord Montfort's proud castle, and his labors 
 and reputation had attracted the attention of Lady Montfort. 
 Under the influence of his powerful character, the services of 
 his church were celebrated with a precision and an imposing 
 effect, which soon occasioned a considerable excitement in the 
 neighborhood, in time even in the county. The pulpit was 
 frequently at his command, for his rector, who had imbibed 
 his Church views, was not equal to the task of propagating 
 them, and the power and fame of Nigel as a preacher began to 
 be much rumored. Although the church at which he officiated 
 was not the one which Lady Montfort usually attended, she 
 was soon among his congregation and remained there. He 
 became a constant guest at the castle, and Lady Montfort pre- 
 sented his church with a reredos of alabaster. She did more 
 than this. Her enthusiasm exceeded her selfishness, for though 
 the sacrifice was great which would deprive her of the minis- 
 trations and society of Nigel in the country, she prevailed 
 upon the prime minister to prefer him to a new church in Lon- 
 don, which had just fallen vacant, and which being situated in 
 a wealthy and populous district would afford him the oppor- 
 tunity of making known to the world his eloquence and genius. 
 This was Nigel's simple, yet not uneventful history ; and then, 
 in turn, he listened to Endymion's brief but interesting narra- 
 
ENDYMION AND NIQEL. 243 
 
 tive of his career, and then they agreed to adjourn to Endym- 
 ion's chambers and have a good talk over the past and the 
 present. 
 
 " That Lady Montfort is a great woman," said Nigel, stand- 
 ing with his back to the fire. *'She has it in her to be an- 
 other Empress Helena." 
 
 ^ indeed!" 
 
 '^I believe she has only one thought, and that the only 
 thought worthy the human mind — the Church. I was glad 
 to meet you at her house. You have cherished, I hope, those 
 views, which in your boyhood you so fervently and seriously 
 embraced. " 
 
 "I am rather surprised," said Endymion, not caring to 
 answer this inquiry, ''at a Whig lady entertaining such high 
 views in these matters. The Liberal party rather depends on 
 the Low Church." 
 
 " I know nothing about Whigs or Tories or Liberals, or 
 any other new names which they invent," said Nigel. "Nor 
 do I know, or care to know, what Low Church means. There 
 is but one Church, and it is catholic and apostolic ; and if we 
 act on its principles, there will be no need, and there ought to 
 be no need, for any other form of government." 
 
 " Well, those are very distinct views," said Endymion, 
 "but are they as practical as they are clear ? " 
 
 "Why should they not be practical ? Everything is prac- 
 tical which we believe ; and in the long run, which is most 
 likely that we should believe, what is taught by God, or what 
 is taught by man ? " 
 
 "I confess," said Endymion, "that in all matters, both 
 civil and religious, I incline to what is moderate and temper- 
 ate. I always trace my dear father's sad end, and all the terri- 
 ble events in my family, to his adopting in 1829 the views of 
 the extreme party. If he had only followed the example and 
 the advice of his best friend, Mr. Sidney Wilton, what a differ- 
 ent state of affairs might have occurred ! " 
 
 "I know nothing about politics," said Nigel. "By being 
 moderate and temperate in politics I suppose you mean being 
 adroit, and doing that which is expedient and which will proba- 
 
244 ENDYMION. 
 
 bly be successful. But the Church is founded on absolute 
 truth, and teaches absolute truth, and there can be no com- 
 promise on such matters." 
 
 "Well, I do not know," said Endymion, ''but surely there 
 are many very religious people, who do not accept without 
 reserve everything that is taught by the Church. I hope I am 
 a religious person myself, and yet, for example, I can not give 
 an unreserved assent to the whole of the Athanasian Creed." 
 
 " The Athanasia^ Creed is the most splendid ecclesiastical 
 lyric ever poured forth by the genius of man. I give to every 
 clause of it an implicit assent. It does not pretend to be 
 divine ; it is human, but the Church has hallowed it, and the 
 Church ever acts under the influence of the Divine Spirit. St. 
 Athanasius was by far the greatest man that ever existed. If 
 you cavil at his creed, you will soon cavil at other symbols. I 
 was prepared for infidelity in London, but I confess, my dear 
 Ferrars, you alarm me. I was in hopes that your early educa- 
 tion would have saved you from this backsliding." 
 
 '' But let us be calm, my dear Nigel. Do you mean to say, 
 that I am to be considered an infidel or an apostate because, 
 although I fervently embrace all the vital truths of religion, 
 and try, on the whole, to regulate my life by them, Pmay have 
 ecruples about believing, for example, in the personality of the 
 Devil ? " 
 
 " If the personality of Satan be not a vital principle of your 
 religion, I do not know what is. There is only one dogma 
 higher. You think it is safe, and I dare say it is fashionable, 
 to fall into this lax and really thoughtless discrimination be- 
 tween what is and what is not to be believed. It is not good 
 taste to believe in the Devil. Give me a single argument 
 against his personality which is not applicable to the personal- 
 ity of the Deity. Will you give that up ; and if so, where are 
 you ? Now mark me ; you and I are young men — you are a 
 very young man. This is the year of grace 1839. If these 
 loose thoughts, which you have heedlessly taken up, prevail in 
 this country for a generation or so — five and twenty or thirty 
 years — we may meet together again, and I shall have to con- 
 vince you that there is a God. " 
 
SOCIETY AND POLITICS. 245 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 The balance of parties in the House of Commons, which 
 had been virtually restored by Sir Eobert Peel's dissolution of 
 1834, might be said to be formally and positively established 
 by the dissolution of Parliament in the autumn of 1837, occa- 
 sioned by the demise of the crown. The ministerial majority 
 became almost nominal, while troubles from all quarters seemed 
 to press simultaneously upon them : Canadian revolts. Chartist 
 insurrections, Chinese squabbles, and mysterious complications 
 in Central Asia, which threatened immediate hostilities with 
 Persia, and even with one of the most powerful of European 
 empires. In addition to all this, the revenue continually de- 
 clined, and every day the general prejudice become more in- 
 tense against the Irish policy of the ministry. The extreme 
 popularity of the Sovereign, reflecting some luster on her min- 
 isters, had enabled them, though not without difficulty, to tide 
 through the session of 1838 ; but when Parliament met in 1839 
 their prospects were dark, and it was known that there was a 
 section of the extreme Liberals who would not be deeply morti- 
 fied if the government were overthrown. All efforts, therefore, 
 political and social, and particularly the latter in which the 
 Whigs excelled, were to bp made to prevent or to retard the 
 catastrophe. 
 
 Lady Montfort and Lady Roehampton opened their houses 
 to the general world at an unusually early period. Their en- 
 tertainments rivaled those of Zenobia, who with unflagging 
 gallantry, her radiant face prescient of triumph, stopped her 
 bright vis-a-vis and her tall footmen in the midst of St. James 
 Street or Pall Mall, while she rapidly inquired from some 
 friendly passer-by whom she had observed, " Tell me the 
 names of the Radical members who want to turn out the gov- 
 ernment, and I will invite them directly." 
 
 Lady Montfort had appropriated the Saturdays, as was her 
 custom and her. right ; so Myra, with the advice of Lord Roe- 
 hampton, had fixed on Wednesdays for her receptions. 
 
 **I should have liked to have taken Wednesdays," said Ze- 
 
246 ENDYMIOR. 
 
 nobia, **but I do not care to seem to be setting np against 
 Lady Roehampton, for lier mother was my dearest friend. Not 
 that I think any quarter ought to be shown to her after join- 
 ing those atrocious Whigs, but to be sure she was corrupted by 
 her husband, whom I remember the most thorough Tory going. 
 To be sure, I was a Whig myself in those days, so one must not 
 say too much about it, but the Whigs then were gentlemen. I 
 will tell you what I will do. I will receive both on Saturdays 
 and Wednesdays. It is an effort, and I am not as young as I 
 was, but it will only be for a season or less, for I know these 
 people can not stand. It will be all oyer by May. " 
 
 Prince Florestan had arrived in town, and was now settled 
 in his mansion in Carlton Terrace. It was the fashion among 
 the creme de la creme to keep aloof from him. The Tories did 
 not love revolutionary dynasties, and the Whigs being in office 
 could not sanction a pretender, and one who, they significantly 
 intimated with a charitable shrug of the shoulders, was not a 
 very scrupulous one. The prince himself, though he was not 
 insensible to the charms of society, and especially of agreeable 
 women, was not much chagrined by this. The world thought 
 that he had fitted up his fine house, and bought his fine horses, 
 merely for the enjoyment of life. His purposes were very 
 different. Though his acquaintances were limited, they were 
 not undistinguished, and he lived with them in intimacy. 
 , There had arisen between himself and Mr. Waldershare the 
 closest alliance both of thought and habits. They were rarely 
 separated. The prince was also a frequent guest at the Keu- 
 chatels, and was a favorite with the head of the house. 
 
 The Duke of St. Angelo controlled the household at Carl- 
 ton Gardens with skill. The appointments were finished and 
 the cuisine refined. There was a dinner twice a week, at which 
 Waldershare was rarely absent, and to which Endymion, whom 
 the prince always treated with kindness,' had a general invita- 
 tion. When he occasionally dined there he met always several 
 foreign guests, and all men apparently of mark — at any rate, 
 all distinguished by their intelligence. It was* an interesting 
 and useful house for a young man, and especially a young poli- 
 tician, to frequent. Endymion heard many things and learned 
 
A TETE-A-TETE DINNER. 247 
 
 many things which otherwise would not have met his ear or 
 mind. The prince encouraged conversation though himself 
 inclined to taciturnity. When he did speak, his terse remarks 
 and condensed views were striking and were remembered. On 
 the days on which he did not receive, the prince dined at the 
 Travelers Club, to which Waldershare had obtained his intro- 
 duction, and generally with Waldershare, who took this oppor- 
 tunity of gradually making his friend acquainted with eminent 
 and influential men, many of whom in due time became guests 
 at Carlton Terrace. It was clear, indeed, that these club-din- 
 ners were part of a system. 
 
 The prince, soon after his arrival in town, while riding, had 
 passed Lady Roehampton's carriage in the park, and he had 
 saluted her with a grave grace which distinguished him. She 
 was surprised at feeling a little agitated by this rencontre. It 
 recalled Hainault, her not mortifying bitt still humble position 
 beneath that roof, the prince's courtesy to her under those cir- 
 cumstances, and, indeed, his marked preference for her soci- 
 ety. She felt it something like ingratitude to treat him with 
 neglect now, when her position was so changed and had become 
 so elevated. She mentioned to Lord Roehampton while they 
 were dining alone, that she should like to invite the prince to 
 her receptions, and asked his opinion on the point. Lord Roe- 
 hampton shrugged his shoulders and did not encourage her. 
 '* You know, my darling, our people do not much like him. 
 They look upon him as a pretender, as having forfeited his 
 parole, and as a refugee from justice. I have no prejudices 
 against him myself, and perhaps in the same situation might 
 have acted in the same manner ; but if he is to be admitted 
 into society, it should hardly be at a ministerial reception, and 
 of all houses, that of one who holds my particular post." 
 
 *^ I know nothing about his forfeiting his parole," said Lady 
 Roehampton; '^ the charge is involved in mystery, and Mr. 
 Waldershare told me it was an entire fabrication. As for his 
 being a pretender, he seems to me as legitimate a prince as 
 most we meet ; he was born in the purple, and his father was 
 recognized by every government in Europe except our own. 
 As for being a refugee from justice, a prince in captivity has 
 
248 ENDYMION. 
 
 certainly a right to escape if he can, and his escape was roman- 
 tic. However, I will not contest any decision of yours, for I 
 think you are always right. Only I am disappointed, for, to 
 say nothing of the unkindness, I can not help feeling our not 
 noticing him is rather shabby." 
 
 There was a silence, a longer silence than usually occurred 
 in Ute-a-Ute dinners between Lord and Lady Koehampton. 
 To break the silence he began to converse on another subject, 
 and Lady Koehampton replied to him cheerfully, but curtly. He 
 saw she was vexed, and this great man, who was at that time 
 meditating one of the most daring acts of modern diplomacy, 
 who had the reputation, in the conduct of public affairs, of not 
 only being courageous, but of being stern, inflexible, unfeeling 
 and unscrupulous beyond ordinary statesmen, who had passed 
 his mornings in writing a menacing dispatch to a great power 
 and intimating combinations to the ambassadors of other first- 
 rate states which they almost trembled to receive, was quite 
 upset by seeing his wife chagrined. At last, after another em- 
 barrassing pause, he said gayly, " Do you know, my dear Myra, 
 I do not see why you should not ask Prince Florestan. It is 
 you that ask him, not I. That is one of the pleasant results 
 of our system of political entertainments. The guests come to 
 pay their respects to the lady of the house, so no one is com- 
 mitted. The prince may visit you on Wednesday just as well 
 as the leaders of the opposition who want our places, or the 
 malcontent Radicals who they say are going to turn us out." 
 
 So Prince Florestan was invited to Lady Roehampton's re- 
 ceptions, and he came ; and he never missed one. His visits 
 were brief. He appeared, made his bow, had the pleasure of 
 some slight conversation with her, and then soon retired. Re- 
 ceived by Lady Roehampton, in time, though sluggishly, invi- 
 tations arrived from other houses, but he rarely availed himself 
 of them. He maintained in this respect great reserve, and 
 was accustomed to say that the only fine lady in London who 
 had ever been kind to him was Lady Roehampton. 
 
 All this time Endymion, who was now thoroughly planted 
 in society, saw a great deal of the Neuchatels, who had returned 
 to Portland Place at the beginning of February. He met Adri- 
 
SEYMOUR HICKS. 249 
 
 ana almost every evening, and was frequently invited to the 
 house — to the grand dinners now, as well as the domestic circle. 
 In short our Endymion was fast becoming a young man of 
 fashion and a personage. The brother of Lady Roehampton 
 had now become the private secretary of Mr. Sidney Wilton 
 and the great friend of Lady Montfort. He was indeed only 
 one of the numerous admirers of that lady, but he seemed not 
 the least smiled on. There was never anything delightful at 
 Montfort House at which he was not present, or indeed, in any 
 other place, for under her influence, invitations from the most 
 distinguished houses crowded his mantelpiece and were stuck 
 all round his looking-glass. Endymion in this whirl of life 
 did not forget his old friends. He toolt care that Seymour 
 Hicks should have a frequent invitation to Lady Roehampton's 
 assemblies. Seymour Hicks only wanted a lever to raise the 
 globe, and this introduction supplied him with one. It was 
 astonishing how he made his way in society, and though, of 
 course, he never touched the empyrean regions in which En- 
 dymion now breathed, he gradually, and at last rapidly, planted 
 himself in a world which to the uninitiated figures as the very 
 realm of nobility and fashion, and where doubtless are found 
 a great fund of splendor, refinement, and amusement. Se^^- 
 mour Hicks was not ill-favored and was always well-dressed, 
 and he was very civil, but what he really owed his social ad- 
 vancement to was his indomitable will. That quality governs 
 all things, and though the will of Seymour Hicks was directed 
 to what many may deem a petty or a contracted purpose, life 
 is always interesting when you have a purpose and live in its 
 fulfillment. It appeared from what he told Endymion that 
 matters at the office had altered a good deal since he left it. 
 The retirement of St. Barbe was the first brick out of the wall ; 
 now, which Endymion had not yet heard, the brother of Trcn- 
 chard had most unexpectedly died, and that gentleman come 
 into a good estate. '^ Jawett remains, and is also the editor of 
 the ' Precursor,' but his new labors so absorb his spare time that 
 he is always at the office of the paper. So it is pretty well all 
 over with the table at Joe's. I confess I could not stand it 
 any longer, particularly after you left. I have got into the 
 
250 ENDYMIOK 
 
 junior Pan-Ionian ; and I am down for the senior ; I can not 
 get in for ten years, but when I do it will be a coup ; the so- 
 ciety there is tiptop, a cabinet minister sometimes, and yery 
 often a bishop." 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 Endymion" was glad to meet Baron Sergius one day when 
 he dined with Prince Florestan. There were several distin- 
 guished foreigners among the guests, who had just arrived. 
 They talked much, and with much emphasis. One of them, 
 the Marquis of Vallombrosa, expatiated on the Latin race, 
 their great qualities, their vivacity, invention, vividness of 
 perception, chivalrous valor, and sympathy with tradition. 
 The northern races detested them, and the height of states- 
 manship was to combine the Latin races into an organized and 
 active alliance against the barbarism which menaced them. 
 There had been for a short time a vacant place next to En- 
 dymion, when Baron Sergius, according to his quiet manner, 
 stole into the room and slipped into the unoccupied seat. "It 
 is some time since we met,'' he said, " but I have heard of you. 
 You are now a public man, and not a public character. That 
 is a not unsatisfactory position." 
 
 The prince listened apparently with much interest to the 
 Marquis of Vallombrosa, occasionally asked him a question, 
 and promoted discussion without himself giving any opinion. 
 Baron Sergius never spoke except to Endymion, and then 
 chiefly social inquiries about Lord and Lady Roehampton, their 
 good friends the Neuchatels, and frequently about Mr. Sidney 
 Wilton, whom, it appeared, he had known years ago, and inti- 
 mately. After dinner the guests, on their return to the saloon, 
 ranged themselves in a circle, but not too formally, and the 
 prince moving round addressed each of them in turn. When 
 this royal ceremony was concluded the prince motioned to the 
 Marquis of Vallombrosa to accompany him, and then they 
 repaired to an adjacent saloon, the door of which was open, 
 but where they could converse without observation. Tho 
 
TEE LATIN RACE, 251 
 
 Duke of St. Angelo amused the remaining guests with all the 
 resources of a man practiced in making people feel at their 
 ease, and in this he was soon greatly assisted by Mr. Walder- 
 share who was unable to dine with the prince to-day, but who 
 seemed to take much interest in this arrival of the representa- 
 tiyes of the Latin race. 
 
 Baron Sergius and Endymion were sitting together rather 
 apart from the rest. The baron said, ** You have heard to-day 
 a great deal about the Latin race, their wondrous qualities, 
 their peculiar destiny, their possible danger. It is a new idea, 
 or rather a new phrase, that I observe is now getting into the 
 political world, and is probably destined to produce conse- 
 quences. No man will treat with indifference the principle of 
 race. It is the key of history, and why history is often so con- 
 fused is that it has been written by men who were ignorant of 
 this principle and all the knowledge it involves. As one who 
 may become a statesman and assist in governing mankind, it 
 is necessary that you should not be insensible to it ; whether 
 you encounter its influence in communities or in individuals, its 
 qualities must ever be taken into account. But there is no sub- 
 ject which more requires discriminating knowledge, or where 
 your illustrating principle, if you are not deeply founded, may 
 not chance to turn out a will-o'-the-wisp. Now this great 
 question of the Latin race, by which M. de Vallombrosa may 
 succeed in disturbing the world — it might be well to inquire 
 where the Latin race is to be found ? In the North of Italy 
 peopled by Germans and named after Germans, or in the South 
 of Italy, swarming with the descendants of Normans and 
 'Arabs ? Shall we find the Latin race in Spain, stocked by 
 Goths, and Moors, and Jews ? Or in France, where there is a 
 great Celtic nation, occasionally mingled with Franks ? Now 
 I do not want to go into the origin of man and nations — I am 
 essentially practical, and only endeavor to comprehend that 
 with which I have personally to deal, and that is sufficiently 
 difficult. In Europe I find three great races with distinct 
 qualities — the Teutons, the Sclaves, and the Celts ; and their 
 conduct will be influenced by those distinctive qualities. There 
 is another ^reat race which influences the world, the Semites. 
 
252 ENDYMION. 
 
 Certainly, when I was at the Congress of Vienna, I did not 
 brieve that the Arabs were more likely to become a conquer- 
 ing race again than the Tartars, and yet it is a question at this 
 moment whether Mehemet Ali, at their head, may not found 
 a new empire in the Mediterranean. The Semites are un- 
 questionably a great race, for among the few things in this 
 world which appear to be certain, nothing is more sure than 
 that they invented our alphabet. But the Semites now exer- 
 cise a vast influence over affairs by their smallest though most 
 peculiar family, the Jews. There is no race gifted with so 
 much tenacity, and such skill in organization. These quali- 
 ties have given them an unprecedented hold over property and 
 illimitable credit. As you advance in life, and get experience 
 in affairs, .the Jews will cross you everywhere. They have 
 long been stealing into our secret diplomacy, which they have 
 almost appropriated ; in another quarter of a century they 
 will claim their share of open government. "Well, these are 
 races ; men and bodies of men influenced in their conduct by 
 their particular organization, and which must enter into all 
 the calculations of a statesman. But what do they mean by 
 the Latin race ? Language and religion do not make a race — 
 there is only one thing which makes a race, and that is blood." 
 
 " But the prince," said Endymion inquiringly ; ** he seemed 
 much interested in what M, de Vallombrosa was saying; I 
 should like to know what his opinions are about the Latin race." 
 
 "The prince rarely gives an opinion," said the baron. 
 **' Indeed, as you well know, he rarely speaks ; he thinks and 
 he acts." 
 
 " But if he acts on wrong information," continued Endym- 
 ion, "there will probably be only one consequence." 
 
 "The prince is very wise," said the baron; "and, trust 
 me, knows as much about mankind, and the varieties of man- 
 kind, as any one. He may not believe in the Latin race, but 
 he may choose to use those who do believe in it. The weakness 
 of the prince, if he have one, is not want of knowledge, or 
 want of judgment, but an over-confidence in his star, which 
 sometimes seduces him into enterprises which he himself feels 
 at the time are not perfectly sound." 
 
MARRIAGE OF IMOGENE. 253 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 The interest of the town was now divided between the 
 danger of the government and the new preacher who electrified 
 the world at St. Rosicrucius. The Rev. Nigel Pedruddock 
 was not at all a popular preacher according to the vulgar ac- 
 ceptation of the term. He disdained all cant and claptrap. 
 He preached Church principles with commanding eloquence, 
 and he practiced them with unceasing devotion. His Church 
 was always open, yet his schools were never neglected ; there 
 was a perfect choir, a staff of disciplined curates, young and 
 ascetic, while sacred sisters, some of patrician blood, fearless 
 and prepared for martyrdom, were gliding about all the back 
 slums of his ferocious neighborhood. How came the Whigs 
 to give such a church to such a person ? There must have 
 been some mistake. But how came it that all the Whig ladies 
 were among the most devoted of his congregation ? The gov- 
 ernment whips did not like it ; at such a critical period too, 
 when it was necessary to keep the Dissenters up to the mark ! 
 And there was Lady Montfort and Lady Roehampton never 
 absent on a Sunday, and their carriages, it was whispered, 
 were often suspiciously near to St. Rosicrucius on week-days. 
 Mr. Sidney Wilton too was frequently in Lady Roehampton's 
 pew, and one day, absolutely my lord himself, who unfortu- 
 nately was rarely seen at church — ^but then, as is well known, 
 critical dispatches always arrive on a Sunday morning — was 
 successfully landed in her pew by Lady Roehampton, and was 
 very much struck indeed by what he heard. "The fact is," 
 as he afterward observed, " I wish we had such a fellow on our 
 bench in the House of Commons." 
 
 About this time also there was another event, which, 
 although not of so general an interest, much touched the feel- 
 ings of Endymion, and this was the marriage of the Earl of 
 Beaumaris with Imogene. It was solemnized in as private and 
 quiet a manner as possible. Waldershare was the best man, 
 and there were no bridesmaids. The only other persons in- 
 
254 ENDYMIOK 
 
 vited by Mr. Eodney, who gave away the bride, were Endym- 
 ion and Mr. Vigo. 
 
 One morning, a few days before the wedding, Sylvia, who 
 had written to ask Lady Roehampton for an interview, called 
 by appointment in St. James' Square. Sylvia was received by 
 Lady Roehampton in her boudoir, and the interview was long. 
 Sylvia, who by nature was composed, and still more so by art, 
 was pale and nervous when she arrived, so much so that her 
 demeanor was noticed by the groom of tlie chambers ; but 
 when she departed, her countenance was flushed and radiant, 
 though it was obvious that she had been shedding tears. On 
 the morning of the wedding, Lady Roehampton in her lord's 
 brougham called for Endymion at the Albany, and then they 
 went together to the vestry of St. James' Church. Lord Beau- 
 maris and Mr. Waldershare had arrived. The bridegroom was 
 a little embarrassed when presented to Lady Roehampton. He 
 had made up his mind to be married, but not to be introduced 
 to a stranger, and particularly a lady ; but Mr. Waldershare flut- 
 tered over them and put all right. It was only the perplexity 
 of a moment, for the rest of the wedding party now appeared. 
 Imogene, who was in a traveling dress, was pale and serious, 
 but transcendently beautiful. She attempted to touch Lady 
 Roehampton's hand with her lips when Myra welcomed her, 
 but Lady Roehampton would not permit this and kissed her. 
 Everybody was calm during the ceremony except Endymion, 
 who had been silent the whole morning. He stood by the altar 
 with that convulsion of the throat and that sickness of the 
 heart which accompany the sense of catastrophe. He was re- 
 lieved by some tears which he easily concealed. Nobody no- 
 ticed him, for all were thinking of themselves. After the 
 ceremony, they all returned to the vestry, and Lady Roehamp- 
 ton with the others signed the registry. Lord and Lady Beau- 
 maris instantly departed for the continent. 
 
 **A strange event I" exclaimed Lady Roehampton, as she 
 threw herself back in the brougham and took her brother's 
 hand. " But not_stranger than what has happened to ourselves. 
 Fortune seems to attend on our ruined home. I thought the 
 bride looked beautiful." 
 
BEREKGARIA'S CHARACTER. 055 
 
 • Endymion was silent. 
 
 *^ You are not gay this morning, my dear," said Lady Roe- 
 hampton ; ^'they say that weddings are depressing. Now I 
 am in rather high spirits. I am very glad that Imogene has 
 become Lady Beaumaris. She is beautiful, and dangerously 
 beautiful. Do you know, my Endymion, I have had some un- 
 easy moments about this young lady. Women are prescient in 
 these matters, and I have observed with anxiety, that you ad- 
 mired her too much yourself. " 
 
 "I am sure you had no reason, Myra," said Endymion, 
 blushing deeply. 
 
 " Certainly not from what you said, my dear. It was from 
 what you did not say that I became alarmed. You seldom 
 mentioned her name, and when I referred to her, you always 
 turned the conversation. However, that is all over now. She 
 is Countess of Beaumaris," added Myra, dwelling slowly and 
 with some unction, on the title, " and may be a powerful friend 
 to you ; and I am Countess of Roehampton, and am your 
 friend, also not quite devoid of power. And there are other 
 countesses, I suspect, on whose good wishes you may rely. 
 If we can not shape your destiny, there is no such thing as 
 witchcraft. No, Endymion, marriage is a mighty instrument 
 in your hands. It must not be lightly used. Come in and 
 lunch ; my lord is at home, and I know he wants to see you." 
 
 CHAPTER LVIIL 
 
 What was most remarkable, and most interesting, in the 
 character of Berengaria was her energy. She had the power 
 of exciting others to action in a degree rarely possessed. She 
 had always some considerable object in contemplation, occasion- 
 ally more than one, and never foresaw difficulties. Her character 
 was, however, singularly feminine ; she never affected to be a 
 superior woman. She never reasoned, did not read much, though 
 her literary taste was fine and fastidious. Though she required 
 constant admiration and consequently encouraged it, she was 
 
256 ENDYMIOK, 
 
 not a heartless coquette. Her sensibility was too quick, and 
 as the reign of her favorites was sometimes brief, she was looked 
 upon as capricious. The truth is, what seemed whimsical in 
 her affections was occasioned by the subtlety of her taste, which 
 was not always satisfied by the increased experience of intimacy. 
 Whenever she made a friend not unworthy of her, she was con- 
 stant and entirely devoted. 
 
 At present, Berengaria had two great objects ; one was to 
 sustain the Whig government in its troubles, and the other was 
 to accomplish an unprecedented feat in modem manners, and 
 that was no less than to hold a tournament, a real tournament, 
 in the autumn, at the famous castle of her lord in the north of 
 England. 
 
 The lord-lieutenant had not been in his county for two 
 years ; he had even omitted to celebrate Christmas at his castle, 
 which had shocked everybody, for its revelry was looked upon 
 almost as the tenure by which the Montforts held their estates. 
 His plea of ill-health, industriously circulated by all his agents, 
 neither obtained sympathy nor credence. His county was rather 
 a weak point with Lord Montf ort, for though he could not bear 
 his home, he was fond of power, and power depended on his 
 territorial influence. The representation of his county by his 
 family, and authority in the local parliamentary boroughs, were 
 the compensations held out to him for the abolition of his nom- 
 ination boroughs. His wife dexterously availed herself of this 
 state of affairs to obtain his assent to her great project, which, 
 it would appear, might not only amuse him, but, in its unpre- 
 cedented magnificence and novelty, must sweep away all discon- 
 tents, and gratify every class. 
 
 Lord Montf ort had placed unlimited resources at the disposal 
 of Berengaria for the fulfillment of her purpose, and at times 
 even showed some not inconsiderable though fitful interest in 
 her progress. He turned over the drawings of the various cos- 
 tumes and armor with a gracious smile, and having picked up 
 on such subjects a great deal of knowledge, occasionally made 
 suggestions which were useful and sometimes embarrassing. 
 The heralds were all called into council, and Garter himself 
 deigned to regulate the order of proceedings. Some of the 
 
A GRAVE OUTLOOK. 257 
 
 finest gentlemen in London, of both parties in the state, passed 
 the greater part of their spring mornings in jousting, and in 
 practicing all the manoeuvres of the lists. Lady Montfort her- 
 self was to be the Queen of the Tournament, and she had pre- 
 vailed on Lady Roehampton to accept the supreme office of 
 Queen of Beauty. 
 
 It was the early part of May, and Zenobia held one of her 
 great assemblies. Being in high good humor, sanguine and 
 prophetic of power, she had asked all the great Whig ladies, 
 and, the times being critical, they had come. Berengaria 
 seemed absorbed by the details of her tournament. She met 
 many of her knights, and she conferred with them all : the 
 Knight of the Bleeding Heart, the Knight of Roses, the Knight 
 of the Crystal Shield. 
 
 Endymion, who was not to be a knight, but a gentleman- 
 at-arms in attendance on the Queen of the Tournament, men- 
 tioned that Prince Florestan much wished to be a jouster ; he 
 had heard this from the Duke of St. Angelo, and Lady Mont- 
 fort, though she did not immediately sanction, did not abso- 
 lutely refuse, the request. 
 
 Past midnight, there was a sudden stir in the saloons. The 
 House of Commons had broken up and many members were 
 entering. There had been a division on the Jamaica question 
 and the ministers had only a majority of five. The leader of 
 the House of Commons had intimated, not to say announced, 
 their consequent resignation. 
 
 *^ Have you heard what they say ? " said Endymion anxious- 
 ly to Lady Montfort. 
 
 " Yes, I heard ; but do not look so grave." 
 
 "Do I look grave?" 
 
 *' As^f it were the last day." 
 
 "I fear it is." 
 
 " I am not so sure. I doubt whether Sir Robert thinks it 
 ripe enough ; and after all, we are not in a minority. I do not 
 see why we should have resigned. I wish I could see Lord 
 Roehampton." 
 
 Affairs did not proceed so rapidly as the triumphant Zeno- 
 bia expected. They were out, no question about that ; but it 
 
258 ENDYMION. 
 
 was not so certain who was in. A day passed and another day, 
 and even Zenobia, who knew everything before anybody, re- 
 mained in the dark. The suspense became protracted and 
 even more m3^sterious. Almost a week had elapsed ; noble 
 lords and right honorable gentlemen were calling on Sir Robert 
 every morning, according to the newspapers, but no one could 
 hear from any authority of any appointment being really made. 
 At last, there was a whisper very late one night at Crockf ord's, 
 which was always better informed on these matters than the 
 political clubs, and people looked amazed, and stared incredu- 
 lously in each others' face. But it was true ; there was a 
 hitch, and in four-and-twenty hours the cause of the hitch was 
 known. It seemed that the ministry really had resigned, but 
 Berengaria, Countess \ of Montfort, had not followed their 
 example. 
 
 What a dangerous woman ! even wicked ! Zenobia was for 
 sending her to the Tower at once. " It was clearly impos- 
 sible," she declared, "for Sir Robert to carry on affairs with 
 such a Duchesse de Longueville always at the ear of our your.g 
 Queen, under the pretense forsooth of being the friend of Her 
 Majesty's youth." 
 
 This was the famous Bed-Chamber Plot, in wliich the Con- 
 servative leaders, as is now generally admitted, were decidedly 
 in error, and which terminated in the return of the Whigs to 
 office. 
 
 *'But we must reconstruct," said Lady Montfort to the 
 prime minister. " Sidney Wilton must be Secretary of State. 
 And you," she said to Endymion, when she communicated to 
 him the successful result of her interference, "you will go 
 with him. It is a great thing at your age to be private secre- 
 tary to a Secretary of State." 
 
MONTFORT CASTLE. 259 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 MoNTFOET Castle was the stronghold of England against 
 the Scotch invader. It stood on a high and vast table-land, 
 with the town of Montfort on one side at its feefc, and on the 
 other a wide-spreading and sylvan domain, herded with deer 
 of various races, and terminating in pine forests ; beyond them 
 moors and mountains. The Donjon Keep, tall and gray, that 
 had arrested the Douglas, still remained intact, and many an 
 ancient battlement ; but the long list of the Lords of Montfort 
 had successively added to the great structure according to the 
 genius of the times, so that still with the external appearance 
 generally of a feudal castle, it combined in its various courts 
 and quadrangles all the splendor and convenience of a modern 
 palace. 
 
 But though it had witnessed many scenes and sights, and 
 as strange ones as any old walls in this ancient land, it may be 
 doubted whether the keep of Montfort ever looked down on 
 anything more rare than the life that was gathering and dis- 
 porting itself in its towers and halls, and courts and parks, and 
 forest chase, in the memorable autumn of this year. 
 
 Berengaria had repaired to her castle full of triumph ; her 
 lord, in high good humor, admiring his wife for her energy, 
 yet with a playful malice apparently enjoying the opportunity 
 of showing that the chronology of her arrangements was con- 
 used, and her costume incorrect. They had good-naturedly 
 ken Endymion down with them ; for traveling to the Border 
 n those times was a serious affair for a clerk in a public office, 
 ay after day the other guests arrived ; the rivals in the tour- 
 ey were among the earliest, for they had to make themselves 
 acquainted with the land which was to be the scene of their 
 3xploits. There came the Knights of the Griffin, and the 
 Dragon, and the Black Lion and the Golden Lion, and the 
 Dolphin and the Stag's Head, and they were all always scrupu- 
 lously addressed by their chivalric names, instead of by the 
 Tommys and the Jemmys that circulated in the affectionate 
 circle of White's, or the Gusseys and the Regys of Belgravian 
 
260 ENDYMIOK 
 
 tea-parties. After a time duly appeared the Knight of the 
 White Eose, whose armor shielded the princely form of Flores- 
 tan ; and this portion of the company was complete when the 
 Black Knight at length reached the castle, who had been de- 
 tained by his attendance on a conference at St. James', in the 
 character of the Count of Ferroll. 
 
 If anything could add to the delight and excitement of 
 Berengaria it would seem to be the arrival of the Count of 
 Ferroll. 
 
 Other guests gradually appeared, who were to sustain other 
 characters in the great pageant. There was the Judge of 
 Peace, and the Knight Marshal of the Lists, and the Jester, 
 who was to ride on a caparisoned mule trapped with bells, and 
 himself bearing a scepter. Mr. Sidney Wilton came down, 
 who had promised to be King of the Tournament ; and, though 
 rather late, for my lord had been detained by the same cause 
 as the Count of Ferroll, at length arrived the Queen of Beauty 
 herself. 
 
 If the performance, to which all contiguous Britain intend- 
 ed to repair — for irrespective of the railroads which now began 
 sensibly to affect the communications in the north of England, 
 steamers were chartering from every port for passengers to the 
 Montfort tournament within one hundred miles' distance — 
 were equal to the preparation, the affair must be a great suc- 
 cess. The grounds round the castle seemed to be filled every 
 day with gi'oups of busy persons in fanciful costume, all prac- 
 ticing their duties and rehearsing their parts ; swordsmen and 
 bowmen, and seneschals and esquires, and grooms and pages, 
 and heralds in tabards, and pursuivants, and banner-bearers. 
 The splendid pavilions of the knights were now completed, and 
 the gorgeous throne of the Queen of Beauty, surrounded by 
 crimson galleries, tier above tier, for thousands of favored 
 guests, were receiving only their last stroke of magnificence. 
 The mornings passed in a feverish whirl of curiosity, and 
 preparation and excitement, and some anxiety. Then succeed- 
 ed the banquet, where nearly one hundred guests were every 
 day present; but the company were so absorbed in the im- 
 pending event that none expected or required, in the evenings. 
 
THE PRINCE AND LADY ROEHAMPTON. 261 
 
 any of the usual schemes or sources of amusement that abound 
 in country houses. Comments on the morning, and plans for 
 the morrow, engrossed all thought and conversation, and my 
 lord's band was just a due accompaniment that filled the pauses 
 when perplexities arrested talk, or deftly blended with some 
 whispered phrase almost as sweet or thrilling as the notes of 
 the cornet-a-piston. 
 
 "I owe my knighthood to you," said Prince Flores tan to 
 Lady Eoehampton, "as I do everything in this country that 
 is agreeable." 
 
 *'You can not be my knight," replied Lady Eoehampton, 
 ''because I am told I am the sovereign of all the chivalry, but 
 you have my best wishes." 
 
 "All that I want in life," said the prince, "are your good 
 wishes. " 
 
 "I fear they are barren." 
 
 "No, they are inspiring," said the prince with unusual 
 feeling. " You brought me good fortune. From the moment 
 I saw you, light fell upon my life." 
 
 "Is not that an exaggerated phrase ?" said Lady Eoehamp- 
 ton with a smile, "because I happened to get you a ticket for 
 a masquerade." 
 
 "I was thinking of something else," said the prmce pen- 
 sively, "but life is a masquerade ; at least mine has been." 
 
 " I think yours, sir, is a most interesting life," said Lady 
 Eoehampton, "and, were I you, I would not quarrel with my 
 destiny." 
 
 " My destiny is not fulfilled," said the prince. "I have 
 never quarreled with it, and am least disposed to do so at this 
 moment." 
 
 "Mr. Sidney Wilton was speaking to me very much the 
 other day about your royal mother, sir, Queen Agrippina. She 
 must have been fascinatinj?." 
 
 "I like fascinating women," said the prince, " but they are 
 rare." 
 
 "Perhaps it is better it should be so," said Lady Eoehamp- 
 ton, " for they are apt— are they not ?— to disturb the 
 world." 
 
2G2 ENBYMION. 
 
 "I confess I like to be bewitched," said the prince, "and I 
 do not care how much the world is disturbed. " 
 
 '* But is not the world very well as it is ? " said Lady Roe- 
 hampton. ** Why should we not be happy and enjoy it ?" 
 
 **I do enjoy it," replied Prince Florestan, "especially at 
 Montfort Castle ; I suppose there is something in the air that 
 agrees with one. But enjoyment of the present is consistent 
 with objects for the future." 
 
 "Ah ! now you are thinking of your great affairs — of your 
 kingdom. My woman's brain is not equal to that. " 
 
 "I think your brain is quite equal to kingdoms," said the 
 prince with a serious expression, and speaking in even a lower 
 voice, "but I was not thinking of my kingdom. I leave 
 that to fate ; 1 believe it is destined to be mine, and therefore 
 occasions me thought but not anxiety. I was thinking of some- 
 thing else than kingdoms, and of which unhappily I am not so 
 certain — of which I am most uncertain — of which I fear I 
 have no chance — and yet which is dearer to me than even my 
 crown." 
 
 "What can that be ?" said Lady Roehampton with unaf- 
 fected wonderment. 
 
 "'Tis a secret of chivalry," said Prince Florestan, "and I 
 must never disclose it." 
 
 "It is a wonderful scene," said Adriana Neuchatel to En- 
 dymion, who had been for some time conversing with her. " I 
 had no idea that I should be so much amused by anything in 
 society. But then, it is so unlike anything one has ever seen." 
 
 Mrs. Neuchatel had not accompanied her husband and her 
 daughter to the Montfort Tournament. Mr. Neuchatel re- 
 quired a long holiday, and after the tournament he was to take 
 Adriana to Scotland. Mrs. Neuchatel shut herself up at Hai- 
 nault, which it seemed she had never enjoyed before. She could 
 hardly believe it was the same place, freed from its daily inva- 
 sions by the House of Commons and the Stock Exchange. She 
 had never lived so long without seeing an ambassador or a cab- 
 inet minister, and it was quite a relief. She wandered in the 
 gardens, and drove her pony-chair in forest glades. She missed 
 Adriana very much, and for a few days always expected her to 
 
ENDYMION AND ADRIAN A, 263 
 
 enter the room when the door opened ; and then she sighed, 
 and then she flew to her easel, or buried herself in some sub- 
 lime cantata of her favorite master, Beethoven. Then came 
 the most wonderful performance of the whole day, and that 
 was the letter, never missed, to Adriana. Considering that she 
 lived in solitude, and in a spot with which her daughter was 
 quite familiar, it was really marvelous that the mother should 
 every day be able to fill so many interesting and impassioned 
 pages. But Mrs. Neuchatel was a fine penwoman ; her feel- 
 ings were her facts, and her ingenious observations of art and 
 nature were her news. After the first fever of separation, read- 
 ing was always a resource to her, for she was a great student. 
 She was surrounded by all the literary journals and choice pub- 
 lications of Europe, and there scarcely was a branch of science 
 and learning with which she was not sufficiently familiar to be 
 able to comprehend the stir and progress of the European 
 mind. Mrs. Neuchatel had contrived to get rid of the chief 
 cook by sending him on a visit to Paris, so she could, without 
 cavil, dine off a cutlet and seltzer- water in her boudoir. Some- 
 times, not merely for distraction, but more from a sense of 
 duty, she gave festivals to her schools, and when she had lived 
 like a princely prisoner of state alone for a month, or rather 
 like one on a desert isle who sighs to see a. sail, she would ask 
 a great geologist and his wife to pay her a visit, or some pro- 
 fessor, who, though himself not worth a shilling, had some new 
 plans, which really sounded quite practical, for the more equal 
 distribution of wealth. 
 
 " And who is your knight ?" said Endymion. 
 
 Adriana looked distressed. 
 
 **I mean, whom do you wish to win ?" 
 
 " Oh, I should like them all to win ! " 
 
 " That is good-natured, but then there would be no dis- 
 tinction. I know who is going to wear your colors — the Knight 
 of the Dolphin." 
 
 '*I hope nothing of that kind will happen," said Adriana, 
 agitated. " I know that some of the knights are going to wear 
 ladies' colors, but I trust no one will think of wearing mine. 
 I know the Black Knight wears Lady Montfort's." 
 
264: ENDYMION. 
 
 " He can not," said Endymion hastily. " She is first lady 
 to the Queen of Beauty ; no knight can wear the colors of the 
 Queen. I asked Sir Morte d' Arthur himself, and he told me 
 there was no doubt about it, and that he had consulted Garter 
 before he came down." 
 
 " Well, all I know is that the Count of FerroU told me so," 
 said Adriana ; " I sate next to him at dinner." 
 
 " He shall not wear her colors," said Endymion quite an- 
 grily. ** I will speak to the King of the Tournament about it 
 directly." 
 
 " Why, what does it signify ? " said Adriana. 
 
 '* You thought it signified when I told you Regy Sutton 
 was going to wear your colors." 
 
 " Ah ! that is quite a different business," Siiid Adriana with 
 a sigh. 
 
 Reginald Sutton was a professed admirer of Adriana, rode 
 with her whenever he could, and danced with her immensely. 
 She gave him cold encouragement, though he was the best- 
 looking and best-dressed youth in England ; but he was a 
 determined young hero, not gifted with too sensitive nerves, 
 and was a votary of the great theory that all in life was an affair 
 of will, and that endowed with sufficient energy he might' 
 marry whom he liked. He accounted for his slow advance in 
 London by the inimical presence of Mrs. Neuchatel, who he 
 felt, or fancied, did not sympathize with him, while, on the 
 contrary, he got on very well with the father, and so he was 
 determined to seize the present opportunity. The mother was 
 absent, and he himself in a commanding position, being one 
 of the knights to whose exploits the eyes of all England were 
 attracted. 
 
 Lord Roehampton was seated between an ambassadress and 
 Berengaria, indulging in gentle and sweet-voiced raillery ; the 
 Count of Eerroll was standing beside Lady Montfort, and Mr. 
 Wilton was opposite to the group. The Count of Ferroll rarely 
 spoke, but listened to Lady Montfort with what she called one 
 of his dark smiles. 
 
 **A11 1 know is, she will never pardon you for not asking 
 her," said Lord Roehampton. " I saw Bicester the day I left 
 
NJQEVS VIEWS. 265 
 
 town, and he was very grumpy. He said that Lady Bicester 
 was the only person who understood tournaments. She had 
 studied the subject." 
 
 "I suppose she wanted to be the Queen of Beauty," said 
 Berengaria. 
 
 ''You are too severe, my dear lady. I think she would 
 have been contented with a knight wearing her colors." 
 
 ''Well, I can not help it," said Berengaria, but somewhat 
 doubtingly. And then, after a moment's pause, " She is too 
 
 "Why, she came to my fancy ball, and it is not five years 
 ago, as Mary, Queen of Scots ! " 
 
 "That must have been after the Queen's decapitation," 
 said Berengaria. 
 
 "I wonder you did not ask Zenobia," said Mr. Wilton. 
 
 " Of course I asked her, but I knew she would not come. 
 She is in one of her hatreds now. She said she would have 
 come, only she had half promised to give a ball to the tenants 
 at Merrington about that time, and she did not like to disap- 
 point them. Quite touching, was it not ? " 
 
 "A touch beyond the reach of art," said Mr. Wilton ; "al- 
 most worthy of yourself, Lady Montfort." 
 
 "And what do you think of all this ? " asked Lord Mont- 
 fort of Nigel Penruddock, who, in a cassock that swept the 
 ground, had been stalking about the glittering saloons like a 
 prophet who had been ordained in May Fair, but who had now 
 seated himself by his host. 
 
 " I am thinking of what is beneath all this," replied Nigel. 
 "A great revivification. Chivalry is the child of the Church ; 
 it is the distinctive feature of Christian Europe. Had it not 
 been for the revival of Church principles, this glorious pageant 
 would never have occurred. But it is a pageant only to the 
 uninitiated. There is not a ceremony, a form, a phrase, a 
 costume, which is not symbolic of a great truth or a high pur- 
 pose." 
 
 "I do not think Lady Montfort is aware of all this," said 
 her lord. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Nigel. " Lady Montfort is a great woman 
 
 12 
 
266 ENBYMION. 
 
 — a woman who could inspire crusades and create churches. 
 She might, and she will, I trust, rank with the Helenas and 
 the Matildas.^' 
 
 Lord Montfort gave a little sound, but so gentle that it was 
 heard probably but by himself, which in common language 
 would be styled a whistle — an articulate modulation of the 
 breath which in this instance expressed a sly sentiment of hu- 
 morous amazement. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Ferrars," said Mr. Neuchatel, with a laughing 
 eye, to that young gentleman, as he encountered Endymion 
 passing by, "and how are you getting on ? Are we to see you 
 to-morrow in a Milanese suit ? " 
 
 " I am only a page," said Endymion. 
 
 "Well, well, the old Italian saying is, 'A page beats a 
 knight,' at least with the ladies." 
 
 "Do not you think it very absurd," said Endymion, "that 
 the Count of Ferroll says he shall wear Lady Montfort's colors ? 
 Lady Montfort is only the first lady of the Queen of Beauty, 
 and she can wear no colors except the Queen's. I)o not you 
 think somebody ought to interfere ? " 
 
 " Hem ! The Count of Ferroll is a man who seldom makes 
 a mistake," said Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 " So everybody says," said Endymion, rather testily ; "but 
 I do not see that." 
 
 "Now, you are a very young man," said Mr. Neuchatel, 
 " and I hope you will some day be a statesman. I do not see 
 why you should not, if you are industrious and stick to your 
 master, for Mr. Sidney Wilton is a man who will always rise ; 
 but, if I were you, I would keep my eyes very much on the 
 Count of Ferroll, for, depend on it, he is one of those men who 
 sooner or later will make a noise in the world." 
 
 Adriana came up at this moment, leaning on the arm of 
 the Knight of the Dolphin, better known as Regy Sutton. 
 They came from the tea-room. Endymion moved away with a 
 cloud on his brow, murmuring to himself, " I am quite sick of 
 the name of the Count of Ferroll." 
 
 The jousting-ground was about a mile from the castle, and 
 though it was nearly encircled by vast and lofty galleries, it 
 
THE PR0CES8I0K 267 
 
 was impossible that accommodation could be afforded on this 
 spot to the thousands who had repaired from many parts of the 
 kingdom to the Montfort Tournament. But even a hundred 
 thousand people could witness the procession from the castle 
 to the scene of action. That was superb. The sun shone, and 
 not one of the breathless multitude was disappointed. 
 
 There came a long line of men-at-arms and musicians and 
 trumpeters and banner-bearers of the Lord of the Tournament, 
 and heralds in tabards, and pursuivants, and then the Herald 
 of the Tournament by himself, whom the people at first mis- 
 took for the Lord Mayor. 
 
 Then came the Knight Marshal on a caparisoned steed, 
 himself in a suit of gilt armor, and in a richly embroidered 
 surcoat. A band of halberdiers preceded the King of the 
 Tournament, also on a steed richly caparisoned, and himself 
 clad in robes of velvet and ermine, and wearing a golden 
 crown. 
 
 Then on a barded Arab, herself dressed in cloth of gold, 
 parti-colored with violet and crimson, came, amid tremendous 
 cheering, the Queen of Beauty herself. Twelve attendants 
 bore aloft a silken canopy, which did not conceal from the 
 enraptured multitude the luster of her matchless loveliness. 
 Lady Montfort, Adriana, and four other attendant ladies, fol- 
 lowed her majesty, two by two, each in gorgeous attire, and on 
 a charger that vied in splendor with its mistress. Six pages 
 followed next, in violet and silver. 
 
 The bells of a barded mule announced the Jester, who waved 
 his scepter with unceasing authority, and pelted the people with 
 admirably prepared impromptus. Some in the crowd tried to 
 enter into a competition of banter, but they were always van- 
 quished. 
 
 Soon a large company of men-at-arms and the sounds of 
 most triumphant music stopped the general laughter, and all 
 became again hushed in curious suspense. The tallest and the 
 stoutest of the Border men bore the gonfalon of the Lord of 
 the Tournament. That should have been Lord Montfort him- 
 self ; but he had deputed the office to his cousin and presump- 
 tive heir. Lord Montfort was well represented, and the peo- 
 
268 ENDTMIOK 
 
 pie cheered his cousin Odo heartily, as in his suit of golden armor 
 richly chased, and bending on his steed, caparisoned in blue 
 and gold, he acknowledged their fealty with a proud reverence. 
 The other knights followed in order, all attended by their 
 esquires and their grooms. Each knight was greatly applauded, 
 and it was really a grand sight to see them on their barded 
 chargers and in their panoply ; some in suits of engraved Mi- 
 lanese armor, some in German suits of fluted polished steel ; 
 some in steel armor engraved and inlaid with gold. The Black 
 Knight was much cheered, but no one commanded more ad- 
 miration than Prince Florestan, in a suit of blue damascened 
 armor, and inlaid with silver roses. 
 
 Every procession must end. It is a pity, for there is no- 
 thing so popular with mankind. The splendid part of the 
 pageant had passed, but still the people gazed and looked as if 
 they would have gazed for ever. The visitors at the castle, all 
 in ancient costume, attracted much notice. Companies of 
 swordsmen and bowmen followed, till at last the seneschal of 
 the castle, with his chamberlains and servitors, closed the spell- 
 bound scene. 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 The jousting was very successful ; though some were neces- 
 sarily discomfited, almost every one contrived to obtain some 
 distinction. But the two knights who excelled and vanquished 
 every one except themselves were the Black Knight, and the 
 Knight of the White Eose. Their exploits were equal at the 
 close of the first day, and on the second they were to contend for 
 the principal prize of the tournament, for which none else were 
 entitled to be competitors. This was a golden helm, to be 
 placed upon the victor's brow by the Queen of Beauty. 
 
 There was both a banquet and a ball on this day, and the 
 excitement between the adventures of the morning and the 
 prospects of the morrow was great. The knights, freed from 
 their armor, appeared in fanciful dresses of many-colored vel- . 
 
ENDYMION'S GLOOMINESS. 269 
 
 vets. All who had taken part in the pageant retained their 
 costumes, and the ordinary guests, if they yielded to mediasval 
 splendor, successfully asserted the taste of Paris and its spark- 
 ling grace, in their exquisite robes, and wreaths and garlands 
 of fantastic loveliness. 
 
 Berengaria, full of the inspiration of success, received the 
 smiling congratulations of everybody, and repaid them with 
 happy suggestions, which she poured forth with inexhaustible 
 yet graceful energy. The only person who had a gloomy air 
 was Endymion. She rallied him. " I shall call you the Knight 
 of the Woful Countenance if you approach me with such a 
 visage. What can be the matter with you ? " 
 
 "Nothing," said Endymion, in a tone of sullen misery. 
 
 " There is something. I know your countenance too well 
 to be deceived. What is the matter ? " 
 
 *^ Nothing," repeated Endymion, looking rather away. 
 
 The Knight of the Dolphin came up and said, " This is a 
 critical affair to-morrow, my dear Lady Montfort. If the 
 Count of Ferroll is discomfited by the prince it may be a casus 
 belli. You ought to get Lord Eoehampton to interfere and 
 prevent the encounter." 
 
 "The Count of Ferroll will not be discomfited," said Lady 
 Montfort. " He is one of those men who never fail." 
 
 "Well, I do not know," said the Knight of the Dolphin 
 musingly. " The prince has a stout lance, and I have felt it." 
 
 "He had the best of it this morning," said Ejidymion 
 rather bitterly. "Every one thought so, and that it was very 
 fortunate for the Count of Ferroll that the heralds closed the 
 lists." 
 
 "It might have been fortunate for others," rejoined Lady 
 Montfort. "What is the general opinion? "she added, ad- 
 dressing the Knight of the Dolphin. " Do not go away, Mr. 
 Ferrars. I want to give you some directions about to-morrow." 
 
 "I do not think I shall be at the place to-morrow," mut- 
 tered Endymion. 
 
 "What !" exclaimed Berengaria ; but at this moment Mr. 
 Sidney Wilton came up and said, "I have been looking at the 
 golden helm. It is intrusted to my care as King of the Tour- 
 
270 ENDYMIOK, 
 
 nament. It is really so beautiful, that I think I shall usurp 
 it." 
 
 "You will have to settle that with the Count of Ferroll," 
 said Berengaria. 
 
 "The betting is about equal/' said the Knight of the Dol- 
 phin. 
 
 ""Well, we must have some gloves upon it," said Berengaria. 
 
 Endymion walked away. 
 
 He walked away, and the first persons that met his eye were 
 the prince and the Count of Ferroll in conversation. It was 
 sickening. They seemed quite gay, and occasionally examined 
 together a paper which the prince held in his hand, and which 
 was an official report by the heralds of the day's jousting. 
 This friendly conversation might have gone on for ever had not 
 the music ceased and the count been obliged to seek his partner 
 for the coming dance. 
 
 "I wonder you can speak to him," said Endymion, going 
 up to the prince. " If the heralds had not — many think, too 
 hastily — closed the lists this morning, you would have been 
 the victor of the day." 
 
 "My dear child ! what can you mean ?" said the prince. 
 "I believe everything was closed quite properly, and, as for' 
 myself, I am entirely satisfied with my share of the day's suc- 
 cess." 
 
 "If you had thrown him," said Endymion, "he could not 
 with decency have contended for the golden helm." 
 
 "Oh ! that is what you deplore," said the prince. "The 
 Count of Ferroll and I shall have to contend for many things 
 more precious than golden helms before we die." 
 
 "I believe he is a very overrated man," said Endymion. 
 
 " Why ? " said the prince. 
 
 "I detest him," said Endymion. 
 
 " That is certainly a reason why you should not overrate 
 him," said the prince. 
 
 "There seems a general conspiracy to run him up," said 
 Endymion with pique. 
 
 " The Count of Ferroll is the man of the future," said the 
 prince calmly. 
 
MORTIFICATION, 271 
 
 " That is what Mr. Neuchatel said to me yesterday. I sup- 
 pose he caught it from you." 
 
 ^^It is an advantage, a great advantage, for me to observe 
 the Count of Ferroll in this intimate society," said the prince 
 speaking slowly, '^ perhaps even to fathom him. But I am not 
 come to that yet. He is a man neither to love nor to detest. 
 He has himself an intelligence superior to all passion, I might 
 say all feeling ; and if, in dealing with such a being, we our- 
 selves have either, we give him an advantage. " 
 
 " Well, all the same I hope you will win the golden helm 
 to-morrow," said Endymion looking a little perplexed. 
 
 "The golden casque that I am ordained to win," said the 
 prince, ''■ is not at Montfort castle. This, after all, is but 
 Mambrino's helmet." 
 
 A knot of young dandies were discussing the chances of the 
 morrow as Endymion was passing by, and as he knew most of 
 them he joined the group. 
 
 " I hope to heaven," said one, " that the Count of Ferroll 
 will beat that foreign chap to-morrow ; I hate foreigners." 
 
 *^ So do I," said a second, and there was a general murmur 
 of assent. 
 
 "The Count of Ferroll is as much a foreigner as the 
 prince," said Endymion rather sharply. 
 
 "Oh! I don't call him a foreigner at all," said the first 
 speaker. "He is a great favorite at White's ; no one rides 
 cross country like him, and he is a deuced fine shot in the bar- 
 gain." 
 
 " I will back Prince Florestan against him either in field or 
 cover," said Endymion. 
 
 " Well, I don't know your friend," said the young gentle- 
 man contemptuously, " so I can not bet." 
 
 " I am sure your friend. Lady Montfort, my dear Dymy, 
 will back the Count of Ferroll," lisped a third young gentle- 
 man. 
 
 This completed the programme of mortification, and En- 
 dymion hot, and then cold, and then both at the same time, 
 bereft of repartee, and wishing the earth would open and 
 Montfort Castle disappear in its convulsed bosom, stole silently 
 
272 ENDTMION, 
 
 away as soon as practicable, and wandered as far as possible 
 from the music and the bursts of revelry. 
 
 These conyersations had taken place in the chief saloon, 
 which was contiguous to the ball-room and which was nearly 
 as full of guests. Endymion, moving in the opposite direction, 
 entered another drawing-room, where the population was 
 sparse. It consisted of couples apparently deeply interested in 
 each other. Some faces were radiant, and some pensive, and 
 a little agitated, but they all agreed in one expression, that 
 they took no interest whatever in the solitary Endymion. 
 Even their whispered words were hushed as he passed by, and 
 they seemed, with their stony, unsympathizing glance, to look 
 upon him as upon some inferior being who had intruded into 
 their paradise. In short, Endymion felt all that embarrass- 
 ment, mingled with a certain portion of self-contempt, which 
 attends the conviction that we are what is delicately called de 
 trop. 
 
 He advanced and took refuge in another room, where there 
 was only a single and still more engrossed pair 5 but this was 
 even more intolerable to him. Shrinking from a return to the 
 hostile chamber he had just left, he made a frantic rush for- 
 ward with aifected ease and alacrity, and found himself alone 
 in the favorite morning room of Lady Montfort. 
 
 He threw himself on a sofa and hid his face in his hand, 
 and gave a sigh, which was almost a groan. He was sick at 
 heart ; his extremities were cold, his brain was feeble. All hope, 
 and truly all thought of the future, deserted him. He remem- 
 bered only the sorrowful, or the humiliating, chapters in his life. 
 He wished he had never left Hurstley. He wished he had been 
 apprenticed to Farmer Thornberry ; that he had never quitted 
 his desk at Somerset House ; and never known more of life than 
 Joe's and the divan. All was vanity and vexation of spirit. He 
 contemplated finishing his days in the neighboring stream, in 
 which, but a few days ago, he was bathing in health and joy. 
 
 Time flew on ; he was unconscious of its course ; no one en- 
 tered the room, and he wished never to see a human face again, 
 when a voice sounded and he heard his name. 
 
 *' Endymion 1" 
 
DESPAIR. 273 
 
 Hb looked up ; it was Lady Montfort. He did not speak, 
 but gaye her, perhaps unconsciously, a glance of reproach and 
 despair. 
 
 *^ What is the matter with you ? " she said. 
 
 '' Nothing." 
 
 ''That is nonsense. Something must have happened. I 
 have missed you so long, but was determined to find you. Have 
 you a headache ? " 
 
 ''No." 
 
 " Come back ; come back with me. It is so odd. My lord 
 has asked for you twice." 
 
 " I want to see no one." 
 
 " Oh ! but this is absurd — and on a day like this, when every- 
 thing has been so successful and every one is so happy." 
 
 " I am not happy, and I am not successful." 
 
 " You perfectly astonish me," said Lady Montfort. " I shall 
 begin to believe that you have not so sweet a temper as I always 
 supposed." 
 
 "It matters not what my temper is." 
 
 "I think it matters a great deal. I like, above all things, 
 to live with good-tempered people." 
 
 "I hope you may not be disappointed. My temper is my 
 own affair, and I am content always to be alone." 
 
 " Y/hy ! you are talking nonsense, Endymion." 
 
 " Probably ; I do not pretend to be gifted. I am not one 
 of those gentlemen who can not fail. I am not a man of the 
 future." 
 
 "Well! I never was so surprised in my life," exclaimed 
 Lady Montfort. " I never will pretend to form an opinion of 
 human character again. Now, my dear Endymion, rouse your- 
 self, and come back with me. Give me your arm. I can not 
 stay another moment ; I dare say I have already been wanted 
 a thousand times." 
 
 " I can not go back," said Endymion ; "I never wish to see 
 anybody again. If you want an arm, there is the Count of Fer- 
 roll, and I hope you may find he has a sweeter temper than I 
 have." 
 
 Lady Montfort looked at him with a strange and startled 
 
274: ENDTMION, 
 
 glance. It was a mixture of surprise, a little disdain, some af- 
 fection blended with mockery. And then exclaiming "Silly 
 boy ! " she swept out of the room. 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 " I DO not like the prospect of affairs," said Mr. Sidney 
 Wilton to Endymion as they were posting up to London from 
 Montfort Castle ; a long journey, but softened in those days 
 by many luxuries, and they had much to talk about. 
 
 " The decline of the revenue is not fitful ; it is regular. 
 Our people are too apt to look at the state of the revenue merely 
 in a financial point of view. If a surplus, take off taxes ; if a 
 deficiency, put them on. But the state of the revenue should 
 also be considered as the index of the condition of the popula- 
 tion. According to my impression, the condition of the peo- 
 ple is declining ; and why ? because they are less employed. If 
 this spreads, they will become discontented and disaffected, 
 and I can not help remembering that, if they become trouble- 
 some, it is our office that will have to deal with them." 
 
 ** This bad harvest is a great misfortune," said Endymion. 
 
 "Yes ; but a bad harvest, though unquestionably a great, 
 perhaps the greatest misfortune for this country, is not the 
 entire solution of our difficulties — I would say, our coming dif- 
 ficulties. A bad harvest touches the whole of our commercial 
 system : it brings us face to face with the corn laws. I wish 
 our chief would give his mind to that subject. I believe a 
 moderate fixed duty of about twelve shillings a quarter would 
 satisfy every one, and nothing then could shake this country. " 
 
 Endymion listened with interest to other views of his mas- 
 ter, who descanted on them at much length. Private secre- 
 taries know everything about their chiefs, and Endymion was 
 not ignorant that among many of the great houses of the "Whig 
 party, and indeed among the bulk of what was called " the Lib- 
 eral " party generally, Mr. Sidney Wilton was looked upon, so 
 far as economical questions were concerned, as very crotchety. 
 
ENDYMION Ayj) HIS CHIEF. 275 
 
 indeed a dangerous character. Lord Montfort was the only 
 magnate who was entirely opposed to the corn laws, but then, 
 as Berengaria would remark, ** Simon is against all laws ; he is 
 not a practical man." 
 
 Mr. Sidney "Wilton reyerted to these views more than once 
 in the course of their journey. ''I was not alarmed about the 
 Chartists last year. Political trouble in this country never 
 frightens me. Insurrections and riots strengthen an English 
 government ; they gave a new lease even to Lord Liverpool 
 when his ministry was most feeble and unpopular; but eco- 
 nomical discontent is quite another thing. The moment sedi- 
 tion arises from taxation, or want of employment, it is more 
 dangerous and more difficult to deal with in this country than 
 any other." 
 
 ** Lord Roehampton seemed to take rather a sanguine view 
 of the situation after the Bed-Chamber business in the spring," 
 observed Endjmion, rather in an inquiring than a dogmatic 
 spirit. 
 
 "Lord Roehampton has other things to think of," said 
 Mr. Wilton. "He is absorbed, and naturally absorbed, in his 
 department, the most important in the state, and of which he 
 is master. But I am obliged to look at aifairs nearer home. 
 Now, this Anti-Corn-Law League, which they established last 
 year at Manchester, and which begins to be very busy, though 
 nobody at present talks of it, is in my mind a movement which 
 ought to be watched. I tell you what ; it occurred to me more 
 than once during that wondrous pageant, that we have just 
 now been taking part in ; the government wants better infor- 
 mation than they have as to the state and the country ; the 
 real feelings and condition of the bulk of the population. We 
 used to sneer at the Tories for their ignorance of these matters, 
 but after all, we, like them, are mainly dependent on quarter 
 sessions ; on the judgment of a lord-lieutenant and the statis- 
 tics of a bench of magistrates. It is true we have introduced 
 into our subordinate administration at Whitehall some persons 
 who have obtained the reputation of distinguished economists, 
 and we allow them to guide us. But though ingenious men, 
 no doubt, they are chiefly bankrupt tradesmen, who, not hav- 
 
276 ENDYMIOK 
 
 ing beeii able to manage their own affairs, have taken upon 
 themselves to advise on the conduct of the country — pedants 
 and prigs at the best, and sometimes impostors. No ; this 
 won't do. It is useless to speak to the chief ; I did about the 
 Anti-Com-Law League ; he shrugged his shoulders, and said 
 it was a madness that would pass. I have made up my mind 
 to send somebody^ quite privately, to the great scenes of na- 
 tional labor. He must be somebody whom nobody knows, and 
 nobody suspects of being connected with the administration, 
 or we shall never get the truth — and the person I have fixed 
 upon is yourself." 
 
 " But am I equal to such a task ?" said Endymion modest- 
 ly, but sincerely. 
 
 "I think so," said Mr. Wilton, ''or, of course, I would not 
 have fixed upon you. I want a fresh and virgin intelligence to 
 observe and consider the country. It must be a mind free 
 from prejudice, yet fairly informed on the great questions in- 
 volved in the wealth of nations. I know you have read Adam 
 Smith, and not lightly. Well, he is the best guide, though of 
 course we must adapt his principles to the circumstances with 
 which we have to deal. You have good judgment, great in- 
 dustry, a fairly quick perception, little passion — ^perhaps hard- 
 ly enough ; but that is probably the consequence of the sor- 
 rows and troubles of early life. But after all, there is no edu- 
 cation like adversity." 
 
 **If it will only cease at the right time," said Endymion. 
 
 " Well, in that respect, I do not think you have anything 
 to complain of," said Mr. Wilton. " The world is all before 
 you, and I mistake if you do not rise. Perseverance and tact 
 are the two qualities most valuable for all men who would 
 mount, but especially for those who have to step out of the 
 crowd. I am sure no one can say you are not assiduous, but I 
 am glad always to observe that you have tact. Without tact 
 you can learn nothing. Tact teaches you when to be silent. 
 Inquirers who are always inquiring never learn anything." 
 
THE AI^TI- CORN-LA W LEA G UE. 277 
 
 CHAPTER LXIL 
 
 Lancashire was not so wonderful a place forty years ago 
 as it is at present, but, compared then with the rest of Eng- 
 land, it was infinitely more striking. For a youth like En- 
 dymion, born and bred in our southern counties, the Berk- 
 shire downs yaried by the bustle of Pail-Mall and the Strand — 
 Lancashire with its teeming and toiling cities, its colossal 
 manufactories and its gigantic chimneys, its roaring engines 
 and its flaming furnaces, its tramroads and its railroads, its 
 coal and its cotton, ofl!ered a far greater contrast to the scenes 
 in which he had hitherto lived, than could be furnished by 
 almost any country of the European continent. 
 
 Endymion felt it was rather a crisis in his life, and that his 
 future might much depend on the fulfillment of the confiden- 
 tial office which had been intrusted to him by his chief. He 
 summoned all his energies, concentrated his intelligence on the 
 one subject, and deyoted to its study and comprehension every 
 moment of his thought and time. After a while, he had made 
 Manchester his headquarters. It was even then the center of 
 a network of railways, and gave him an easy command of .the 
 contiguous districts. 
 
 Endymion had more than once inquired after the Anti- 
 Com-Law League, but had not as yet been so fortunate as to 
 attend any of their meetings. They were rarer then than they 
 afterward soon became, and the great manufacturers did not 
 encourage them. "I do not like extreme views," said one of 
 the most eminent one day to Endymion. " In my opinion we 
 should always avoid extremes ; " and he paused and looked 
 around, as if he had enunciated a heaven-born truth, and for 
 the first time. "I am a liberal ; so we all are here. I sup- 
 ported Lord Grey, and I support Lord Melbourne, and I am, 
 in everything, for a liberal policy. I don't like extremes. A 
 wise minister should take off the duty on cotton wool. That 
 is what the country really wants, and then everybody would be 
 satisfied. No ; I know nothing about this league you ask 
 about, and I do not know any one — ^that is to say, any one re- 
 
278 ENDYMION. 
 
 spectable — who does. They came to me to lend my name. 
 No, I said, gentlemen ; I feel much honored, but I do not like 
 extremes ; and they went away. They are making a little 
 more noise now, because they have got a man who has the gift 
 of the gab, and the people like to go and hear him speak. But 
 as I said to a friend of mine, who seemed half inclined to join 
 them, * Well ; if I did anything of that sort, I would be led 
 by a Lancashire lad.' They have got a foreigner to lead them, 
 a fellow out of Berkshire ; an agitator — and only a print-work 
 after all. No ; that will never do." 
 
 Notwithstanding these views, which Endymion found very 
 generally entertained by the new world in which he mixed, he 
 resolved to take the earliest opportunity of attending the meet- 
 ing of the league, and it soon arrived. 
 
 It was an evening meeting, so that workmen — or opera- 
 tives, as they were styled in this part of the kingdom — should 
 be able to attend. The assembly took place in a large but tem- 
 porary building ; very well adapted to the human voice, and able 
 to contain even thousands. It was fairly full to-night ; and the 
 platform, on which those who took a part in the proceedings, or 
 who, by their comparatively influential presence, it was sup- 
 posed, might assist the cause, was almost crowded. 
 
 *'He is going to speak to-night," said an operative to En- 
 dymion. '* That is why there is such an attendance." 
 
 Kemembering Mr. Wilton's hint about not asking unneces- 
 sary questions which often arrest information, Endymion did 
 not inquire who "he" was; and to promote communication 
 merely observed, '^ A fine speaker, then, I conclude ?" 
 
 "Well, he is in a way," said the operative. "He has not 
 got Hollaballoo's voice, but he knows what he is talking about. 
 I doubt their getting what they are after ; they have not the 
 working classes with them. If they went against truck, it would 
 be something." 
 
 The chairman opened the proceedings ; but was coldly re- 
 ceived, though he spoke sensibly and at some length. He then 
 introduced a gentleman, who was absolutely an alderman, to 
 move a resolution condemnatory of the corn laws. The august 
 position of the speaker atoned for his halting rhetoric, and a 
 
JOB AS AN ORATOR. 279 
 
 city whicli had only just for the first time been inyested with 
 municipal privileges was hushed before a man who might in 
 time even become a mayor. 
 
 Then the seconder advanced, and there was a general burst 
 of applause. 
 
 "There he is," said the operative to Endymion ; "you see 
 they like him. Oh, Job knows how to do it ! " 
 
 Endymion listened with interest, soon with delight, soon 
 with a feeling of exciting and not unpleasing perplexity, to the 
 orator ; for he was an orator, though then unrecognized, and 
 known only in his district. He was a pale and slender mau, 
 with a fine brow and an eye that occasionally flashed with the 
 fire of a creative mind. His voice certainly was not like Hol- 
 laballoo's. It was rather thin, but singularly clear. There 
 was nothing clearer except his meaning. Endymion never 
 heard a case stated with such pellucid art ; facts marshaled 
 with such vivid simplicity, and inferences so natural and spon- 
 taneous and irresistible, that they seemed, as it were, borrowed 
 from his audience, though none of that audience had arrived 
 at them before. The meeting was hushed, was rapt in intel- 
 lectual delight, for they did not give the speaker the enthusi- 
 asm of their sympathy. That was not shared, perhaps, by the 
 moiety of those who listened to him. When his case was fairly 
 before them, the speaker dealt with his opponents — some in 
 the press, some in Parliament — with much power of sarcasm, 
 but this power was evidently rather repressed than allowed to 
 run riot. What impressed Endymion as the chief quality of 
 this remarkable speaker was his persuasiveness, and he had the 
 air of being too prudent to olfend even an opponent unneces- 
 sarily. His language, though natural and easy, was choice 
 and refined. He was evidently a man who had read, and not 
 a little ; and there was no taint of vulgarity, scarcely a pro- 
 vincialism, in his pronunciation. 
 
 He spoke for rather more than an hour ; and frequently 
 during this time, Endymion, notwithstanding his keen interest 
 in what was taking place, was troubled, it might be disturbed, 
 by pictures and memories of the past that he endeavored in 
 vain to drive away. When the orator concluded, amid cheer- 
 
280 ENDYMIOK, 
 
 ing much louder than that which had first greeted him, En- 
 dymion, in a rather agitated voice, whispered to his neighbor, 
 *^ Tell me — is his name Thornberry ? " 
 
 *'That is your time of day," said the operative. "Job 
 Thornberry is his name, and I am on his works." 
 
 "And yet you do not agree with him ?" 
 
 "Well ; I go as far as he goes, but he does not go so far as 
 I go ; that's it." 
 
 "I do not see how a man can go much farther," said En- 
 dymion. " Where are his works ? I knew your master when 
 he was in the south of England, and I should like to call on 
 him." 
 
 "My employer," said the operative. "They call them- 
 selves masters, but we do not. I will tell you. His works are 
 a mile out of town ; but it seems only a step, for there are 
 houses all the way. Job Thornberry & Go's. Print-works, Pen- 
 dleton Koad — any one can guide you — ^and when you get there, 
 you can ask for me, if you like. I am his overlooker, and my 
 name is Enoch Craggs." 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 "You are not much altered," said Thornberry, as he re- 
 tained Endymion's hand, and he looked at him earnestly ; 
 " and yet you have become a man. I suppose I am ten years 
 your senior. I have never been back to the old place, and yet I 
 sometimes think I should like to be buried there. The old 
 man has been here, and more than once, and liked it well 
 enough ; at least, I hope so. He told me a good deal about 
 you all ; some sorrows, and, I hope, some joys. I heard of 
 Miss Myra's marriage ; she was a sweet young lady ; the gravest 
 person I ever knew ; I never knew her smile. I remember they 
 thought her proud, but I always had a fancy for her. Well ; 
 she has married a topsawyer — I believe the ablest of them all, 
 and probably the most unprincipled ; though I ought not to 
 say that to you. However, public men are spoken freely of. 
 
JOB THORNBERRY'S HOME. 281 
 
 I wish to heaven yon would get him to leave off tinkering those 
 commercial treaties that he is always making such a fuss about. 
 More pernicious nonsense was never devised by man than trea- 
 ties of commerce. However, their precious most favored nation 
 clause will break down the whole concern yet. But you wish 
 to see the works ; I will show them to you myself. There is 
 not much going on now, and the stagnation increases daily. 
 And then, if you are willing, we will go home and have a bit 
 of lunch — I live hard by. My best works are my wife and chil- 
 dren : I have made that joke before, as you can well fancy." 
 
 This was the greeting, sincere but not unkind, of Job 
 Thornberry to Endymion on the day after the meeting of the 
 Anti-Corn-Law League. To Endymion it was an interesting, 
 and, as he believed it would prove, a useful encounter. 
 
 The print-works were among the most considerable of their 
 kind at Manchester, but they were working now with reduced 
 numbers and at half time. It was the energy and the taste and 
 invention of Thornberry that had given them their reputation, 
 and secured them extensive markets. He had worked with 
 borrowed capital, but had paid off his debt, and his establish- 
 ment was now his own ; but, stimulated by his success, he had 
 made a consignment of large amount to the United States, 
 where it arrived only to be welcomed by what was called the 
 American crash. 
 
 Turning from the high road, a walk of half a mile brought 
 them to a little world of villas ; varying in style and size, but 
 all pretty, and each in its garden. " And this is my home," 
 said Thornberry, opening the wicket, " and here is my mistress 
 and the young folks " — pointing to a pretty woman, but with 
 an expression of no inconsiderable self-confidence, and with sev- 
 eral children clinging to her dress and hiding their faces at the 
 unexpected sight of a stranger. " My eldest is a boy, but he 
 is at school," said Thornberry. "I have named him after one 
 of the greatest men that ever lived, John Hampden." 
 
 "He was a landed proprietor," observed Endymion, rather 
 dryly ; " and a considerable one." 
 
 " I have brought an old friend to take cheer with us," con- 
 tinued Thornberry ; " one whom I knew before any here pres- 
 
282 ENDYMION, 
 
 ent ; so show your faces, little people ; " and he caught up one 
 of the children, a fair child like its mother, long-haired and 
 blushing like a Worcestershire orchard before harvest time. 
 *' Tell the gentleman what you are." 
 
 " A free-trader," murmured the infant. 
 
 Within the house were several shelves of books well selected, 
 and the walls were adorned with capital prints of famous works 
 of art. ** They are chiefly what are called books of reference," 
 said Thornberry, as Endymion was noticing his volumes ; *' but 
 I have not much room, and, to tell you the truth, they are not 
 merely books of reference to me — I like reading encyclopaedias. 
 The * Dictionary of Dates ' is a favorite book of mine. The 
 mind sometimes wants tone, and then I read Milton. He is 
 the only poet I read — he is complete, and is enough. I have 
 got his prose works too. Milton was the greatest of English- 
 men." 
 
 The repast was simple, but plenteous, and nothing could be 
 neater than the manner in which it was served. 
 
 **Weare teetotalers," said Thornberry; ** but we can give 
 you a good cup of coffee." 
 
 " I am a teetotaler too at this time of the day," said Endym- 
 ion ; '*but a good cup of coffee is, they say, the most delicious 
 and the rarest beverage in the world." 
 
 "Well," continued Thornberry, "it is a long time since we 
 met Mr. Ferrars — ^ten years. I used to think that in ten years 
 one might do anything ; and a year ago, I really thought I had 
 done it ; but the accursed laws of this blessed country, as it 
 calls itself, have nearly broken me, as they have broken many 
 a better man before me. " 
 
 "I am sorry to hear this," said Endymion ; "I trust it is 
 but a passing cloud." 
 
 "It is not a cloud," said Thornberry; "it is a storm, a 
 tempest, a wreck — ^but not only for me. Your great relative, my 
 Lord Koehampton, must look to it, I can tell you that. What 
 is happening in this country, and is about to happen, will not 
 be cured or averted by commercial treaties — mark my words." 
 
 "But what would cure it ?" said Endymion. 
 
 "There is only one thing that can cure this country, and 
 
FREE EXCHANGE. 283 
 
 it will soon be too late for that. We must have free ex- 
 change." 
 
 ^' Free exchange ! " murmured Endymion, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Why, look at this," said Thornberry. '^ I had been driv- 
 ing a capital trade with the States for nearly five years. I be- 
 gan with nothing, as you know. I had paid off all my borrowed 
 capital ; my works were my own, and this house is a freehold. 
 A year ago I sent to my correspondent at New York the largest 
 consignment of goods I had ever made and the best, and I can 
 not get the slightest return for them. My correspondent writes 
 to me that there is no end of corn and breadstuffs which he 
 could send, if we could only receive them ; but he knows very 
 well he might as well try and send them to the moon. The 
 people here are starving and want these breadstuffs, and they 
 are ready to pay for them by the products of their labor — and 
 your blessed laws prevent them ! " 
 
 ** But these laws did not prevent your carrying on a thriv- 
 ing trade with America for five years, according to your own 
 account," said Endymion. "I do not question what you say ; 
 I am asking only for information." 
 
 "What you say is fairly said, and it has been said before," 
 replied Thornberry; **^ but there is nothing in it. We had a 
 trade, and a thriving trade, with the States ; though, to be 
 sure, it was always fitful, and ought to have been ten times as 
 much, even during those five years. But the fact is, the state 
 of affairs in America was then exceptional. They were em- 
 barked in great public works in which every one was investing 
 his capital ; shares and stocks abounded, and they paid us for 
 our goods with them. " 
 
 " Then it would rather seem that they have no capital now 
 to spare to purchase our goods ? " 
 
 " Not so," said Thornberry, sharply, " as I have shown ; but 
 were it so, it does not affect my principle. If there were free 
 exchange, we should find employment and compensation in 
 other countries, even if the States were logged, which I don't 
 believe thirty millions of people with boundless territory ever 
 can be." 
 
 "But after all," said Endymion, "America is as little in 
 
284: ENDYMIOK 
 
 favor of free exchange as we are. She may send us her bread- 
 stuffs ; but her laws will not admit our goods, except on the 
 payment of enormous duties." 
 
 *' Pish ! " said Thornberry ; "I do not care this for their 
 enormous duties. Let me have free imports, and I will soon 
 settle their duties." 
 
 *' To fight hostile tariffs with free imports," said Endymion ; 
 " is not that fighting against odds ? " 
 
 ^^Not a bit. This country has nothing to do but to con- 
 sider its imports. Foreigners will not give us their products 
 for nothing ; but as for their tariffs, if we were wise men, and 
 looked to our real interests, their hostile tariffs, as you call 
 them, would soon be falling down like an old wall." 
 
 "Well, I confess," said Endymion, "I have for some time 
 thought the principle of free exchange was a sound one ; but its 
 application in a country like this would be very difficult, and 
 require, I should think, great prudence and moderation." 
 
 "By prudence and moderation you mean ignorance and 
 timidity," said Thornberry, scornfully. 
 
 "Not exactly that, I hope," said Endymion; "but you 
 can not deny that the home market is a most important ele- 
 ment in the consideration of our public wealth, and it mainly 
 rests upon the agriculture of the country." 
 
 " Then, it rests upon a very poor foundation," said Thorn- 
 berry. "But if any persons should be more tempted than 
 others by free exchange, it should be the great body of the 
 consumers of this land, who pay unjust and excessive prices 
 for every article they require. No, my dear Mr. Ferrars ; the 
 question is a very simple one, and we may talk for ever, and 
 we shall never alter it. The laws of this country are made by 
 the proprietors of land, and they make them for their own 
 benefit. A man with a large estate is said to have a great 
 stake in the country because some hundreds of people or so are 
 more or less dependent on him. How has he a greater inter- 
 est in the country than a manufacturer who has sunk £100,000 
 in machinery, and has a thousand people, as I had, receiving 
 from him weekly wages ? No home market, indeed ! Pah ! it 
 is an affair of rent, and nothing more nor less. And England 
 
ENOCH CRAQGS, 285 
 
 is to be ruined to keep up rents. Are you going ? Well, I am 
 glad we have met. Perhaps we shall have another talk to- 
 gether some day. I shall not return to the works. There is 
 little doing there, and I must think now of other things. The 
 subscriptions to the league begin to come in apace. Say what 
 they like in the House of Commons and the vile London press, 
 the thing is stirring." 
 
 Wishing to turn the conversation a little, Endymion asked 
 Mrs. Thornberry whether she occasionally went to London. 
 
 *' Never was there," she said, in a sharp, clear voice ; "but 
 I hope to go soon." 
 
 " You will have a great deal to see." 
 
 "All I want to see, and hear, is the Eev. Servetus Frost," 
 replied the lady. " My idea of perfect happiness is to hear 
 him every Sunday. He comes here sometimes, for his sister 
 is settled here ; a very big mill. He preached here a month 
 ago. Should not I have liked the bishop to have heard him, 
 that's all ! But he would not dare to go ; he could not answer 
 a point." 
 
 " My wife is of the Unitarian persuasion," said Thornberry. 
 " I am not. I was born in our Church, and I keep to it ; but 
 I often go to chapel with my wife. As for religion generally, 
 if a man believe in his Maker and does his duty to his neigh- 
 bor, in my mind that is sufficient." 
 
 Endymion bade them good-by, and strolled musingly to- 
 ward his hotel. 
 
 Just as he reached the works again, he encountered Enoch 
 Craggs, who was walking into Manchester. 
 
 "I am going to our institute," said Enoch. "I do not 
 know why, but they have put me on the committee." 
 
 "And, I doubt not, they did very wisely," said Endymion. 
 
 "Master Thornberry was glad to see you ?" said Enoch. 
 
 "And I was glad to see him." 
 
 "He has got the gift of speech," said Enoch. 
 
 "And that is a great gift." 
 
 " If wisely exercised, and I will not say he is not exercising 
 it wisely. Certainly for his own purpose, but whether that 
 purpose is for the general good — query ? " 
 
286 ENDYMION. 
 
 ''He is against monopoly," observed Endymion, inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 *' Query again ? " said Enoch. 
 
 *' Well ; he is opposed to the com laws." 
 
 "The corn laws are very bad laws," said Enoch, ''and the 
 sooner we get rid of them the better. But there are worse 
 things than the corn laws." 
 
 " Hem ! " said Endymion. 
 
 " There are the money laws," said Enoch. 
 
 " I did not know you cared so much about them at Man- 
 chester," said Endymion. "I thought it was Birmingham 
 thai was chiefly interested about currency." 
 
 "I do not care one jot about currency," said Enoch ; 
 "and, so far as I can judge, the Birmingham chaps talk a 
 deal of nonsense about the matter. Leastwise, they will never 
 convince me that a slip of irredeemable paper is as good as the 
 young queen's head on a twenty-shilling piece. I mean the 
 laws that secure the accumulation of capital, by which means 
 the real producers become mere hirelings, and really are little 
 better than slaves." 
 
 " But surely without capital we should all of us be little 
 better than slaves ? " 
 
 "I am not against capital," replied Enoch. "What I am 
 against is capitalists." 
 
 "But if we get rid of capitalists we shall soon get rid of 
 capital." 
 
 "No, no," said Enoch, with his broad accent, shaking his 
 head, and with a laughing eye. "Master Thornberry has 
 been telling you that. He is the most inveterate capitalist of 
 the whole lot ; and I always say, though they keep aloof from 
 liim at present, they will be all sticking to his skirts before 
 long. Master Thornberry is against the capitalists in land ; 
 but there are other capitalists nearer home, and I know more 
 about them. I was reading a book the other day about King 
 Charles — Charles the First, whose head they cut off — I am very 
 liking to that time, and read a good deal about it ; and there was 
 Lord Falkland, a great gentleman in those days, and he said, 
 when Archbishop Laud was trying on some of his priestly 
 
COOPEEATIOK 28Y 
 
 tricks, that ' if lie were to haye a pope, he would rather the 
 pope were at Rome than at Lambeth.' So I sometimes think, 
 if we are to be ruled by capitalists, I would sooner, perhaps, be 
 ruled by gentlemen of estate, who have been long among us, 
 than by persons who build big mills, who come from God knows 
 whence, and when they have worked their millions out of our 
 flesh and bone, go God knows where. But perhaps we shall 
 get rid of them all some day — landlords and mill-lords." 
 
 "And whom will you substitute for them ?" 
 
 "The producers," said Enoch, with a glance half savage, 
 half triumphant. 
 
 " What can workmen do without capital ?" 
 
 "Why, they make the capital," said Enoch ; "and if they 
 make the capital, is it not strange that they should not be able 
 to contrive some means to keep the capital ? Why, Job was 
 saying the other day that there was nothing like a principle to 
 work upon. It would carry all before it. So say I. And I 
 have a principle too, though it is not Master Thornberry's. 
 But it will carry all before it, though it may not be in my 
 time. But I am not so sure of that." 
 
 "And what is it ?" asked Endymion. 
 
 "Cooperation." 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 This strangely revived acquaintance with Job Thornberry 
 was not an unfruitful incident in the life of Endymion. 
 Thornberry was a man of original mind and singular energy ; 
 and, although of extreme views on commercial subjects, all his 
 conclusions were founded on extensive and various informa- 
 tion, combined with no inconsiderable practice. The mind of 
 Thornberry was essentially a missionary one. He was always 
 ready to convert people ; and he acted with ardor and interest 
 on a youth who, both by his ability and his social position, was 
 qualified to influence opinion. But this youth was gifted with 
 a calm, wise judgment, of the extent and depth of which he 
 was scarcely conscious himsglij. and Thornberry, like all propa- 
 
 / OF THE ^ A 
 
 UNIVERSITY y 
 
288 ENDYMIOK 
 
 gandists, was more remarkable for his zeal and his convictions, 
 than for that observation and perception of character which are 
 the finest elements in the management of men and affairs. 
 
 *^ What you should do," said Thornberry, one day to En- 
 dymion, "is to go to Scotland ; go to the Glasgow district ; 
 that city itself, and Paisley, and Kilmarnock — keep your eye 
 on Paisley. I am much mistaken if there will not soon be a 
 state of things there which alone will break up the whole con- 
 cern. It will burst it, sir ; it will burst it." 
 
 So Endymion, without saying anything, quietly went to 
 Glasgow and its district, and noted enough to make him re- 
 solve soon to visit there again ; but the cabinet reassembled in 
 the early part of November, and he had to return to his duties. 
 
 In his leisure hours, Endymion devoted himself to the prep- 
 aration of a report, for Mr. Sidney Wilton, on the condition 
 and prospects of the manufacturing districts of the north of 
 England, with some illustrative reference to that country be- 
 yond the Tweed. He concluded it before Christmas, and Mr. 
 Wilton took it down with him to Gaydene, to study it at his 
 leisure. Endymion passed his holidays with Lord and Lady 
 Montfort, at their southern seat, Princedown. 
 
 Endymion spoke to Lady Montfort a little about his labors, 
 for he had no secrets from her ; but she did not much sympa- 
 thize with him, though she liked him to be sedulous and to 
 distinguish himself. *'Only," she observed, "take care not 
 to be dodrinairej Endymion. I am always afraid of that with 
 you. It is Sidney's fault ; he always was doctrinaire. It was 
 a great thing for you becoming his private secretary ; to be the 
 private secretary of a cabinet minister is a real step in life, and 
 I shall always be most grateful to Sidney, whom I love for ap- 
 pointing you ; but still, if I could have had my wish, you 
 should have been Lord Roehampton's private secretary. That 
 is real politics, and he is a real statesman. You must not let 
 Mr. Wilton mislead you about the state of affairs in the cabi- 
 net. The cabinet consists of the prime minister and Lord 
 Roehampton, and, if they are united, all the rest is vapor. 
 And they will not consent to any nonsense about touching the 
 corn laws ; you may be sure of that. Besides, I will tell you a 
 
TRADE AND FUSTANCB. 2S9 
 
 secret, which is not yet Pulchinello's secret, though I dare say 
 it will be known when we all return to town — we shall have a 
 great event when Parliament meets ; a royal marriage. What 
 think you of that ? The young queen is going to be married, 
 and to a young prince, like a prince in a fairy tale. As Lord 
 Roehampton wrote to me this morning, * Our royal marriage 
 will be much more popular than the Anti-Corn-Law League.' " 
 
 The royal marriage was very popular ; but, unfortunately, 
 it reflected no splendor on the ministry. The world blessed 
 the queen and cheered the prince, but shook its head at the 
 government. Sir Robert Peel also — whether from his own 
 motive, or the irresistible impulse of his party need not now be 
 inquired into — sanctioned a direct attack on the government, 
 in the shape of a vote of want of confidence in them, immedi- 
 ately the court festivities were over, and the attack was de- 
 feated by a narrow majority. 
 
 "Nothing could be more unprincipled," said Berengaria, 
 "after he had refused to take oflBce last year. As for our ma- 
 jority, it is, under such circumstances, twenty times more than 
 we want. As Lord Roehampton says, one is enough." 
 
 Trade and revenue continued to decline. There was again 
 the prospect of a deficiency. The ministry, too, was kept in 
 by the Irish vote, and the Irish then were very unpopular. 
 The cabinet itself generally was downcast, and among them- 
 selves occasionally murmured a regret that they had not re- 
 tired when the opportunity offered in the preceding year. 
 Berengaria, however, would not bate an inch of confidence and 
 courage. "You think too much," she said to Endymion, "of 
 trade and finance. Trade always comes back, and finance 
 never ruined a country, or an individual either if he had pluck. 
 Mr. Sidney Wilton is a croaker. The things he fears will 
 never happen ; or, if they do, will turn out to be unimportant. 
 Look to Lord Roehampton ; he is the man. He does not care 
 a rush whether the revenue increases or declines. He is think- 
 ing of real politics ; foreign affairs ; maintaining our power in 
 Europe. Something will happen, before the session is over, in 
 the Mediterranean ; " and she pressed her finger to her lip, and 
 then she added, " The country will support Lord Roehampton, 
 
 s 13 
 
290 EKLYMION. 
 
 as they supported Pitt, and give him any amount of taxes that 
 he likes." 
 
 In the mean time, the social world had its incidents as well 
 as the political, and not less interesting. One of the most in- 
 significant, perhaps, was the introduction into society of the 
 Countess of Beaumaris. Her husband, sacrificing even his 
 hunting, had come up to town at the meeting of Parliament, 
 and received his friends in a noble mansion on Piccadilly Ter- 
 race. All its equipments were sumptuous and refined, and 
 everything had been arranged under the personal supervision 
 of Mr. Waldershare. They commenced very quietly ; dinners 
 little but constant, and graceful and finished as a banquet of 
 Watteau ; no formal invitations ; men were brought in to din- 
 ner from the House of Lords " just up," or picked up, as it 
 were carelessly, in the House of Commons by Mr. Waldershare, 
 or were asked by Imogene, at a dozen hours' notice, in billets 
 of irresistible simplicity. Soon it was whispered about, that 
 the thing to do was to dine with Beaumaris, and that Lady 
 Beaumaris was ** something too delightful." Prince Florestan 
 frequently dined there ; Waldershare always there, in a state 
 of coruscation ; and every man of fashion in the opposite ranks, 
 especially if they had brains. 
 
 Then, in a little time, it was gently hoped that Imogene 
 should call on their wives and mothers, or their wives and moth- 
 ers call on her ; and then she received, without any formal in- 
 vitation, twice a week ; and as there was nothing going on in 
 London, or nothing half so charming, everybody who was any- 
 body came to Piccadilly Terrace ; and so as, after long obser- 
 vation, a new planet is occasionally discovered by a philosopher, 
 thus society suddenly and indubitably discovered that there was 
 at last a Tory house. 
 
 Lady Roehampton, duly apprised of affairs by her brother, 
 had called on Lord and Lady Beaumaris, and had invited them 
 to her house. It was the first appearance of Imogene in gen- 
 eral society, and it was successful. Her large brown eyes, and 
 long black lashes, her pretty mouth and dimple, her wondrous 
 hair — which, it was whispered, unfolded, touched the ground 
 — struck every one, and the dignified simplicity of her carriage 
 
LADY BEAUMARIS. 291 
 
 was attractive. Her husband never left her side ; while Mr. 
 Waldershare was in every part of the saloons, watching her 
 from distant points, to see how she got on, or catching the re- 
 marks of others on her appearance. Myra was kind to her as 
 well as courteous, and, when the stream of arriving guests had 
 somewhat ceased, sought her out and spoke to her ; and then 
 put her arm in hers, walked with her for a moment, and intro- 
 duced her to one or two great personages, who had previously 
 intimated their wish or their consent to that effect. Lady 
 Montfort was not one of these. "When parties are equal, and 
 the struggle for power is intense, society loses much of its sym- 
 pathy and softness. Lady Montfort could endure the presence 
 of Tories, provided they were her kinsfolk, and would join, 
 even at their houses, in traditionary festivities ; but she shrunk 
 from passing the line, and at once had a prejudice against Imo- 
 gene, whom she instinctively felt might become a power for 
 the enemy. 
 
 '* I will not have you talk so much to that Lady Beauma- 
 ris," she said to Endymion. 
 
 " She is an old friend of mine," he replied. 
 
 " How could you have known her ? She was a shop-girl, 
 was not she, or something of that sort ? " 
 
 *^ She and her family were very kind to me when I v*^as not 
 much better than a shop-boy myself," replied Endymion, with 
 a mantling cheek. " They are most respectable people, and I 
 have a great regard for her." 
 
 ^* Indeed! Well; I will not keep you from your Tory 
 woman," said Berengaria, rudely ; and she walked away. 
 
 Altogether, this season of — 40 was not a very satisfactory 
 one in any respect, as regarded society or the country in gen- 
 eral. Party passion was at its highest. The ministry retained 
 office almost by a casting vote ; were frequently defeated on 
 important questions ; and whenever a vacancy occurred, it was 
 filled by their opponents. Their unpopularity increased daily, 
 and it was stimulated by the general distress. All that Job 
 Thornberry had predicted as to the state of manufacturing 
 Scotland duly occurred. Besides manufacturing distress, they 
 had to encounter a series of bad harvests. Never was a body 
 
292 * ENDYMION. 
 
 of statesmen placed in a more embarrassing and less enviable 
 position. There was a prevalent, though unfounded, convic- 
 tion that they were maintained in power by a combination of 
 court favor with Irish sedition. 
 
 Lady Montfort and Lord Roehampton were the only per- 
 sons who never lost heart. She was defiant ; and he ever 
 smiled, at least in public. " What nonsense ! " she would say. 
 " Mr. Sidney Wilton talks about the revenue falling off ! As 
 if the revenue could ever really fall off ! And then our bad 
 harvests. W^hy, that is the very reason we shall have an excel- 
 lent harvest this year. You can not go on always having bad 
 harvests. Besides, good harvests never make a ministry popu- 
 lar. Nobody thanks a ministry for a good harvest. What 
 makes a ministry popular is some great coup in foreign affairs." 
 
 Amid all these exciting disquietudes, Endymion pursued a 
 life of enjoyment, but also of observation and much labor. He 
 lived more and more with the Montforts, but the friendship of 
 Berengaria was not frivolous. Though she liked him to be 
 seen where he ought to figure, and required a great deal of at- 
 tention herself, she ever impressed on him that his present life 
 was only a training for a future career, and that his mind 
 should ever be fixed on the attainment of a high position. 
 Particularly she impressed on him the importance of being a 
 linguist. "There will be a reaction some day from all this 
 political economy," she would say, " and then there will be no 
 one ready to take the helm." Endymion was not unworthy of 
 the inspiring interest which Lady Montfort took in him. The 
 terrible vicissitudes of his early years had gravely impressed his 
 character. Though ambitious, he was prudent ; and, though 
 born to please and be pleased, he was sedulous and self-re- 
 strained. Though naturally deeply interested in the fortunes 
 of his political friends, and especially of Lord Roehampton and 
 Mr. Wilton, a careful scrutiny of existing circumstances had 
 prepared him for an inevitable change ; and, remembering what 
 was their position but a few years back, he felt that his sister 
 and himself should be reconciled to their altered lot, and be 
 content. She would still be a peeress, and the happy wife of 
 an illustrious man ; and he himself, though he would have to 
 
TEE QBE AT COUP. 293 
 
 relapse into the drudgery of a public office, would meet duties 
 the discharge of which was once the object of his ambi- 
 tion, coupled now with an adequate income and with many 
 friends. 
 
 And among those friends, there were none with whom he 
 maintained his relations more intimately than with the Neu- 
 chatels. He was often their guest both in town and at Hai- 
 nault, and he met them frequently in society, always at the 
 receptions of Lady Montfort and his sister. Zenobia used 
 sometimes to send him a card ; but these condescending recog- 
 nitions of late had ceased, particularly as the great dame heard 
 he was ** always at that Lady Beaumaris's." One of the social 
 incidents of his circle, not the least interesting to him, was the 
 close attendance of Adriana and her mother on the ministra- 
 tions of Nigel Penruddock. They had become among the most 
 devoted of his flock ; and this, too, when the rapid and start- 
 ling development of his sacred offices had so alarmed the easy, 
 though sagacious. Lord Roehampton, that he had absolutely 
 expressed his wish to Myra that she should rarely attend them, 
 and, indeed, gradually altogether drop a habit which might ul- 
 timately compromise her. Berengaria had long ago quitted 
 him. This was attributed to her reputed caprice, yet it was 
 not so. ^'I like a man to be practical," she said. *'When I 
 asked for a deanery for him the other day, the prim.e minister 
 said he could hardly make a man a dean who believed in the 
 Real Presence." Nigel's church, however, was more crowded 
 than ever, and a large body of the clergy began to look upon 
 him as the coming man. 
 
 Toward the end of the year the " great coup in foreign af- 
 fairs," which Lady Montfort had long brooded over, and in- 
 deed foreseen, occurred, and took the world, who were all 
 thinking of something else, entirely by surprise. A tripartite 
 alliance of great powers had suddenly started into life; the 
 Egyptian host was swept from the conquered plains of Asia 
 Minor and Syria by English blue-jackets ; St. Jean d'Acre, 
 which had baffled the great Napoleon, was bombarded and 
 taken by a British fleet ; and the whole fortunes of the world 
 in a moment seemed changed, and permanently changed. 
 
294 ENDYMION, 
 
 *'I am glad it did not occur in the season," said Zenobia. 
 "I really could not stand Lady Montfort if it were May." 
 
 The ministry was elate, and their Christmas was right merry. 
 There seemed good cause for this. It was a triumph of diplo- 
 matic skill, national valor, and administrative energy. Myra 
 was prouder of her husband than ever, and, amid all the excite- 
 ment, he smiled on her with sunny fondness. Everybody con- 
 gratulated her. She gave a little reception before the holidays, 
 to which everybody came who was in town or passing through. 
 Even Zenobia appeared ; but she staid a very short time, talk- 
 ing very rapidly. Prince Florestan paid his grave devoirs, with 
 a gaze which seemed always to search into Lady Roehamp ton's 
 inmost heart, yet never lingering about her ; and Waldershare, 
 full of wondrous compliments and conceits, and really enthusi- 
 astic, for he ever sympathized with action ; and Imogene, gor- 
 geous with the Beaumaris sapphires ; and Sidney Wilton, who 
 kissed his hostess's hand, and Adriana, who kissed her cheek. 
 
 "I tell you what, Mr. Endymion," said Mr. Neuchatel, 
 ''you should make Lord Roehampton your Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer, and then your government might perhaps go on a 
 little." 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 But, as Mr. Tadpole observed, with much originality, at 
 the Carlton, they were dancing on a volcano. It was Decem- 
 ber, and the harvest was not yet all got in, the spring corn had 
 never grown, and the wheat was rusty ; there was, he well 
 knew, another deficiency in the revenue, to be counted by mil- 
 lions ; wise men shook their heads and said the trade was leav- 
 ing the country, and it was rumored that the whole population 
 of Paisley lived on the rates. 
 
 " Lord Roehampton thinks that something must be done 
 about the corn laws," murmured Berengaria one day to En- 
 dymion, rather crestfallen ; " but they will try sugar and tim- 
 ber first. I think it all nonsense, but nonsense is sometimes 
 necessary." 
 
A CRITICAL STRUGGLE. 295 
 
 This was the first warning of that famous budget of 1841 
 which led to such vast consequences, and which, directly or in- 
 directly, gave such a new form and color to English politics. 
 Sidney Wilton and his friends were at length all powerful in 
 the cabinet because, in reality, there was nobody to oppose them. 
 The vessel was water-logged. The premier shrugged his shoul- 
 ders ; and Lord Roehampton said : " We may as well try it, 
 because the alternative is, we shall have to resign." 
 
 Affairs went on badly for the ministry during the early part 
 of the session. They were more than once in a minority, and 
 on Irish questions, which then deeply interested the country ; 
 but they had resolved that their fate should be decided by their 
 financial measures, and Mr. Sidney Wilton and his friends were 
 still sanguine as to the result. On the last day of April the 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer introduced the budget, and pro- 
 posed to provide for the deficiency by reducing the protective 
 duties on sugar and timber. A few days after, the leader of the 
 House of Commons himself announced a change in the corn- 
 laws, and the intended introduction of grain at various-priced 
 duties per quarter. 
 
 Then commenced the struggle of a month. Ultimately, 
 Sir Eobert Peel himself gave notice of a resolution of a want 
 of confidence in the ministry ; and after a week's debate it 
 Was carried, in an almost complete house, by a majority of 
 "one!" 
 
 It was generally supposed that the ministry would immedi- 
 ately resign. Their new measures had not revived their popu- 
 larity, and the Parliament in which they had been condemned 
 had been elected under their own advice and influence. Mr. 
 Sidney Wilton had even told Endymion to get their papers in 
 order ; and all around the somewhat dejected private secretary 
 there were unmistakable signs of that fatal flitting which is 
 peculiarly sickening to the youthful politician. 
 
 He was breakfasting in his rooms at the Albany with not a 
 good appetite. Although he had for some time contemplated 
 the possibility of such changes— and contemplated them, as he 
 thought, with philosophy — when it came to reality and prac- 
 tice, he found his spirit was by no means so calm, or his cour- 
 
296 ENDYMION. 
 
 age so firm, as he had counted on. The charms of office ar- 
 rayed themselves before him. The social influence, the secret 
 information, the danger, the dexterity, the ceaseless excite- 
 ment, the delights of patronage which everybody affects to dis- 
 regard, the power of benefiting others, and often the worthy 
 and unknown which is a real joy — in eight-and-forty hours or 
 so, all these, to which he had now been used for some time, 
 and which with his plastic disposition had become a second 
 nature — were to vanish, and probably never return. Why 
 should they ? He took the gloomiest view of the future, and 
 his inward soul acknowledged that the man the country wanted 
 was Peel. Why might he not govern as long as Pitt ? He 
 probably would. Peel ! his father's friend ! And this led to 
 a train of painful but absorbing memories, and he sat musing 
 and abstracted, fiddling with an idle egg-spoon. 
 
 His servant came in with a note, which he eagerly opened. 
 It ran thus: "I must see you instantly. I am here in the 
 brougham, Cork Street end, come directly. B. M." 
 
 Endymion had to walk up half the Albany, and marked the 
 brougham the whole way. There was in it an eager and radi- 
 ant face. 
 
 **You had better get in," said Lady Montfort, '*for in 
 these stirring times some of the enemy may be passing. And 
 now," she continued, when the door was fairly shut, ''nobody 
 knows it, not five people. They are going to dissolve." 
 
 " To dissolve ! " exclaimed Endymion. *' Will that help 
 us?" 
 
 ''Very likely," said Berengaria. "We have had our share 
 of bad luck, and now we may throw in. Cheap bread is a fine 
 cry. Indeed it is too shocking that there should be laws which 
 add to the price of what everybody agrees is the staff of life. 
 But you do nothing but stare, Endymion : I thought you 
 would be in a state of the greatest excitement ! " 
 
 " I am rather stunned than excited." 
 
 " Well ; but you must not be stunned, you must act. This 
 Is a crisis for our party, but it is something more for you. It 
 is your climacteric. They may lose ; but you must win, if 
 you will only bestir yourself. See the whips directly, and get 
 
REAL FRIENDS. 297 
 
 t'n& most certain seat you can. Nothing must prevent your 
 being in the new Parliament." 
 
 '* I see everything to prevent it/' said Endymion. "I have 
 no means of getting into Parliament — no means of any kind." 
 
 " Means must be found," said Lady Montfort. "We can 
 not stop now to talk about means. That would be a mere 
 waste of time. The thing must be done. I am now going to 
 your sister, to consult with her. All you have got to do is to 
 make up your mind that you will be in the next Parliament, 
 and you will succeed; for everything in this world depends 
 upon will." 
 
 **I think everything in this world depends upon woman," 
 said Endymion. 
 
 "It is the same thing," said Berengaria. 
 
 Adriana was with Lady Koehampton when Lady Montfort 
 was announced. 
 
 Adriana came to console ; but she herself was not without 
 solace, for, if there were a change of government, she would 
 see more of her friend. 
 
 "Well; I was prepared for it," said Lady Eoehampton. 
 " I have always been expecting something ever since what they 
 called the Bedchamber Plot." 
 
 "Well ; it gave us two years," said Lady Montfort ; "and 
 f7e are not out yet." 
 
 Here were three women, young, beautiful, and powerful, 
 and all friends of Endymion — real friends. Property does not 
 consist merely of parks and palaces, broad acres, funds in many 
 forms, services of plate, and collections of pictures. The affec- 
 tions of the heart are property, and the sympathy of the right 
 person is often worth a good estate. 
 
 These three charming women were cordial, and embraced 
 each other when they met ; but the conversation flagged, and 
 the penetrating eye of Myra read in the countenance of Lady 
 Montfort the urgent need of confidence. 
 
 "So, dearest Adriana," said Lady Eoehampton, "we will 
 drive out together at three o'clock. I will call on you." And 
 Adriana disappeared. 
 
 "You know it?" said Lady Montfort, when they were 
 
298 END YM I OK 
 
 alone. *' Of course you know it. Besides, I know you know 
 it. What I have come about is this : your brother must be in 
 the new Parliament." 
 
 '* I have not seen him ; I have not mentioned it to him/' 
 said Myra, somewhat hesitatingly. 
 
 " I have seen him ; I have mentioned it to him," said Lady 
 Montfort, decidedly. " He makes difficulties ; there must be 
 none. He will consult you. I came on at once that you might 
 be prepared. No difficulty must be admitted. His future de- 
 pends on it." 
 
 '*I live for his future," said Lady Eoehampton. 
 
 *' He will talk to you about money. These things always 
 cost money. As a general rule, nobody has money who ought 
 to have it. I know dear Lord Eoehampton is very kind to 
 you ; but, all his life, he never had too much money at his 
 command ; though why, I never could make out. And my 
 lord has always had too much money ; but I do not much care 
 to talk to him about these affairs. The thing must be done. 
 "What is the use of diamond necklaces if you can not help a 
 friend into Parliament ? But all I want now is that you will 
 throw no difficulties in his way. Help him, too, if you 
 can." 
 
 "I wish Endymion had married," replied Myra. 
 
 "Well; I do not see how that would help affairs," said 
 Lady Montfort. " Besides, I dislike married men. They are 
 very uninteresting." 
 
 "I mean, I wish," said Lady Eoehampton, musingly, "that 
 he had made a great match." 
 
 "That is not very easy," said Lady Montfort, "and great 
 matches are generally failures. All the married heiresses I 
 have known have shipwrecked." 
 
 *' And yet it is possible to marry an heiress and love her," 
 said Myra. 
 
 "It is possible, but very improbable." 
 
 " I think one might easily love the person who has just left 
 the room." 
 
 "MissNeuchatel?" 
 
 " Adriana. Do not you agree with me ? " 
 
"/r MUST BE done:' 299 
 
 ">iiss Neuchatel will never marry," said Lady Montfort, 
 '^unless she loses her fortune." 
 
 " Well ; do you know, I have sometimes thought that she 
 liked Endymion ? I never could encourage such a feeling ; 
 and Endymion, I am sure, would not. I wish, I almost wish," 
 added Lady Roehampton, trying to speak with playfulness, 
 "that you would use your magic influence, dear Lady Mont- 
 fort, and bring it about. He would soon get into Parliament 
 then." 
 
 "I have tried to marry Miss Neuchatel once," said Lady 
 Montfort, with a mantling cheek, "and I am glad to say I did 
 not succeed. My match-making is over. " 
 
 There was a dead silence : one of those still moments which 
 almost seem inconsistent with life, certainly with the presence 
 of more than one human being. Lady Roehampton seemed 
 buried in deep thought. She was quite abstracted, her eyes 
 fixed, and fixed upon the ground. All the history of her life 
 passed through her brain — all the history of their lives ; from 
 the nursery to this proud moment, proud even with all its 
 searching anxiety. And yet the period of silence could be 
 counted almost by seconds. Suddenly she looked up with a 
 flushed cheek and a dazed look, and said, "It must be done." 
 
 Lady Montfort sprang forward with a glance radiant with 
 hope and energy, and kissed her on both cheeks. " Dearest 
 Lady Roehampton," she exclaimed, "dearest Myra ! I knew 
 you would agree with me. Yes ! it must be done." 
 
 "You will see him perhaps before I do ?" inquired Myra 
 rather hesitatingly. 
 
 "I see him every day at the same time," replied Lady 
 Montfort. "He generally walks down to the House of Com- 
 mons with Mr. Wilton, and when they have answered ques- 
 tions, and he has got all the news of the lobby, he comes to me. 
 I always manage to get home from my drive to give him half 
 an hour before dinner." 
 
300 EKDYMION, 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 Lady Mon"tfort drove off to the private residence of the 
 Secretary of the Treasury, who was of course in the great se- 
 cret. She looked over his lists, examined his books, and 
 seemed to have as much acquaintance with electioneering de- 
 tails as that wily and experienced gentleman himself. "Is 
 there anything I can do?" she repeatedly inquired; "com- 
 mand me without compunction. Is it any use giving any par- 
 ties ? Can I write any letters ? Can I see anybody ? " 
 
 "If you could stir up my lord a little?" said the secre- 
 tary inquiringly. 
 
 "Well, that is difficult," said Lady Montfort, "perhaps 
 impossible. But you have all his influence, and when there is 
 a point that presses you must let me know." 
 
 " If he would only speak to his agents ? " said the secretary, 
 "but they say he will not, and he has a terrible fellow in 
 
 shire, who I hear is one of the stewards for a dinner to 
 
 Sir Robert." 
 
 "I have stopped all that," said Lady Montfort. "That 
 was Odo's doing, who is himself not very sound ; full of preju- 
 dices about O'Connell, and all that stuff. But he must go 
 with his party. You need not fear about him." 
 
 " Well ! it is a leap in the dark," said the secretary. 
 
 "Oh! no/' said Lady Montfort, "all will go right. A 
 starving people must be in favor of a government who will give 
 them bread for nothing. By the bye, there is one thing, my 
 dear Mr. Secretary, you must remember. I must have one 
 seat, a certain seat, reserved for my nomination." 
 
 "A certain seat in these days is a rare gem," said the sec- 
 retary. 
 
 "Yes, but I must have it nevertheless," said Lady Mont- 
 fort. " I don't care about the cost or the trouble — ^but it must 
 be certain." 
 
 Then she went home and wrote a line to Endymion, to tell 
 him that it was all settled, that she had seen his sister, who 
 agreed with her that it must be done, and that she had called 
 
DISSOLUTIOK 301 
 
 on the Secretary of the Treasury, and had secured a certain seat. 
 "I wish you could come to hmcheon," she added, "but I sup- 
 pose that is impossible ; you are always so busy. Why were 
 you not in the Foreign OjBfice ? I am now going to call on the 
 Tory women to see how they look, but I shall be at home a 
 good while before seven, and of course count on seeing you." 
 
 In the mean time, Endymion by no means shared the plea- 
 surable excitement of his fair friend. His was an agitated 
 walk from the Albany to Whitehall, where he resumed his duties 
 moody and disquieted. There was a large correspondence this 
 morning, which was a distraction and a relief, until the bell of 
 Mr. Sidney Wilton sounded, and he was in attendance on his 
 chief. 
 
 "It is a great secret," said Mr. Wilton, "but I think I 
 ought to tell you ; instead of resigning, the government have 
 decided to dissolve. I think it a mistake, but I stand by my 
 friends. They believe the Irish vote will be very large, and 
 with cheap bread will carry us through. I think the stronger 
 we shall be in Ireland the weaker we shall be in England, and I 
 doubt whether our cheap bread will be cheap enough. These 
 Manchester associations have altered the aspect of affairs. I 
 have been thinking a good deal about your position. I should 
 like, before we broke up, to have seen you provided for by some 
 permanent office of importance in which you might have been 
 useful to the state, but it is difficult to manage these things 
 suddenly. However, now we have time at any rate to look 
 about us. Still if I could have seen you permanently attached 
 to this office in a responsible position, I should have been glad. 
 I impressed upon the chief yesterday that you are most fit for it." 
 
 " Oh ! do not think of me, dear sir ; you have been always 
 too kind to me. I shall be content with my lot. All I shall re- 
 gret is ceasing to serve you." 
 
 Lady Montfort's carriage drove up to Montfort House just 
 as Endymion reached the door. She took his arm with eager- 
 ness ; she seemed breathless with excitement. "I fear I am 
 very late, but if you had gone away I should never have par- 
 doned you. I have been kept by listening to all the new ap- 
 pointments from Lady Bellasyse. They quite think we are out ; 
 
302 ENDYMIOK 
 
 you may be sure I did not deny it. I have so much to tell you. 
 Come into my lord's room ; he is away fishing. Think of fish- 
 ing at such a crisis ! I can not tell you how pleased I was with 
 my visit to Lady Roehampton. She quite agreed with me in 
 everything. * It must be done/ she said. How very right I 
 and I have almost done it. I will have a certain seat; no 
 chances. Let us have something to fall back upon. If not in 
 office we shall be in opposition. All men must some time or 
 other be in opposition. There you will form yourself. It is a 
 great thing to have had some official experience. It will save 
 you from mares' nests, and I will give parties without end, and 
 never rest till I see you prime minister." 
 
 So, she threw herself into her husband's easy chair, tossed 
 her parasol on the table, and then she said, "But what is the 
 matter with you, Endymion ! you look quite sad. You do not 
 mean you really take our defeat — which is not certain yet — so 
 much to heart. Believe me, opposition has its charms ; indeed 
 I sometimes think the principal reason why I have enjoyed our 
 ministerial life so much is, that it has been from the first a per- 
 petual struggle for existence." 
 
 " I do not pretend to be quite indifferent to the probably 
 impending change," said Endymion, "but I can not say there 
 is anything about it which would affect my feelings very 
 deeply." 
 
 "What is it then?" 
 
 " It is this business about which you and Myra are so kindly 
 interesting yourselves," said Endymion, with some emotion ; 
 " I do not think I could go into Parliament." 
 
 " Not go into Parliament ! " exclaimed Lady Montfort. 
 "Why, what are men made for except to go into Parliament ! 
 I am indeed astounded." 
 
 "I do not disparage Parliament," said Endymion ; "much 
 the reverse. It is a life that I think would suit me, and I have 
 often thought the day might come — " 
 
 " The day has come," said Lady Montfort, " and not a bit 
 too soon. Mr. Fox went in before he was of age, and all young 
 men of spirit should do the same. Why, you are two-and- 
 twenty ! " 
 
PRUDENCE, 303 
 
 "It is not my age," said Endymion, hesitatingly ; " I am 
 not afraid about that, for from the life which I haye led of late 
 years, I know a good deal about the House of Commons." 
 
 " Then what is it, dear Endymion ? " said Lady Montfort 
 impatiently. 
 
 " It will make a great change in my life," said Endymion, 
 calmly, but with earnestness, *' and one which I do not feel 
 justified in accepting." 
 
 " I repeat to you, that you need give yourself no anxiety 
 about the seat," said Lady Montfort. "It will not cost you a 
 shilling. I and your sister have arranged all that. As she 
 very wisely said, 'It must be done,' and it is done. All you 
 have to do is to write an address and make plenty of speeches, 
 and you are M. P. for life, or as long as you like." 
 
 " Possibly ; a parliamentary adventurer ; I might swim or 
 I might sink ; the chances are it- would be the latter, for storms 
 would arise, when those disappear who have no root in the 
 country, and no fortune to secure them breathing time and a 
 future." 
 
 "Well, I did not expect, when you handed me out of my 
 carriage to-day, that I was going tp listen to a homily on pru- 
 dence." 
 
 "It is not very romantic, I own," said Endymion, "but 
 my prudence is at any rate not a commonplace caught up 
 from copy-books. I am only two-and-twenty, but I have had 
 some experience, and it has been very bitter. I have spoken 
 to you, dearest lady, sometimes of my earlier life, for I wished 
 you to be acquainted with it, but I observed also you always 
 seemed to shrink from such confidence, and I ceased from 
 touching on what I saw did not interest you." 
 
 " Quite a mistake. It greatly interested me. I know all 
 about you and everything. I know you were not always a 
 clerk in a public office, but the spoiled child of splendor. I 
 know your father was a dear good man, but he made a mistake, 
 and followed the Duke of Wellington instead of Mr. Canning. 
 Had he not, he would probably be alive now, and certainly 
 secretary of state, like Mr. Sidney Wilton. But you must not 
 make a mistake, Endymion. My business in life, and your 
 
304: ENDYMIOK, 
 
 sister's too, is to prevent your making mistakes. And you are 
 on the eve of making a very great one if you lose this golden 
 opportunity. Do not think of the past ; you dwell on it too 
 much. Be like me, live in the present, and when you dream, 
 dream of the future." 
 
 *' Ah ! the present would be adequate, it would be fascina- \ 
 tion, if I always had such a companion as Lady Montfort," said 
 Endymion, shaking his head. " What surprises me most, what 
 indeed astounds me, is that Myra should join in this counsel — 
 Myra, who knows all, and who has felt it perhaps deeper even 
 than I did. But I will not obtrude these thoughts on you, 
 best and dearest of friends. I ought not to have made to you 
 the allusions to my private position which I have done, but it 
 seemed to me tlie only way to explain my conduct, otherwise 
 inexplicable." 
 
 " And to whom ought you to say these things if not to 
 me ?" said Lady Montfort, "whom you called just now your 
 best and dearest friend. I wish to be such to you. Perhaps I 
 have been too eager, but, at any rate, it was eagerness for your 
 welfare. Let us then be calm. Speak to me as you would to 
 Myra. I can not be your twin, but I can be your sister in feel- 
 ing." 
 
 He took her hand and gently pressed it to his lips ; his eyes 
 would have been bedewed, had not the dreadful sorrows and 
 trials of his life much checked his native susceptibility. Then 
 speaking in a serious tone, he said, " I am not without ambi- 
 tion, dearest Lady Montfort ; I have had visions which would 
 satisfy even you ; but partly from my temperament, still more 
 perhaps from the vicissitudes of my life, I have considerable 
 waiting powers. I think if one is patient and watches, all will 
 come of which one is capable ; but no one can be patient who 
 is not independent. My wants are moderate, but their fulfill- 
 ment must be certain. The break-up of the government, which 
 deprives me of my salary as a private secretary, deprives me of 
 luxuries which I can do without — a horse, a brougham, a stall 
 at the play, a flower in my button-hole — but my clerkship is 
 my freehold. As long as I possess it, I can study, I can work, 
 I can watch and comprehend all the machinery of government. 
 
WALJDERSEARE DELIGHTED. 305 
 
 I can move in society, without which a public man, whatever 
 his talents or acquirements, is in life playing at blindman's 
 buff. I must sacrifice this citadel of my life if I go into Par- 
 liament. Do not be offended, therefore, if I say to you, as I 
 shall say to Myra, I have made up my mind not to surrender 
 it. It is true I have the misfortune to be a year older than 
 Charles Fox when he entered the senate, but even with this 
 great disadvantage I am sometimes conceited enough to believe 
 that I shall succeed, and to back myself against the field." 
 
 CHAPTER LXVII. 
 
 Mk. Waldershare was delighted when the great secret 
 was out, and he found that the ministry intended to dissolve, 
 and not resign. It was on a Monday that Lord John Russell 
 made this announcement, and Waldershare met Endymion in 
 the lobby of the House of Commons. "I congratulate you, 
 my dear boy ; your fellows, at least, have pluck. If they lose, 
 which I think they, will, they will have gained at least three 
 months of power, and irresponsible power. Why ! they may 
 do anything in the interval, and no doubt will. You will see ; 
 they will make their chargers consuls. It beats the Bed- 
 chamber Plot, and I always admired that. One hundred 
 days ! Why, the Second Empire lasted only one hundred days. 
 But, what days ! what excitement ! They were worth a hun- 
 dred years at Elba." 
 
 " Your friends do not seem quite so pleased as you arc," said 
 Endymion. 
 
 " My friends, as you call them, are old fogies, and want to 
 divide the spoil among the ancient hands. It will be a great 
 thing for Peel to get rid of some of these old friends. A dis- 
 solution permits the powerful to show their power. There is 
 Beaumaris, for example ; now he will have an opportunity of 
 letting them know who Lord Beaumaris is. I have a dream ; 
 he must be Master of the Horse. I shall never rest till I see 
 
306 ENDYMIOK 
 
 Imogene riding in that golden coach, and breaking the line 
 with all the honors of royalty. " 
 
 **Mr. Ferrars," said the editor of a newspaper, seizing his 
 watched-for opportunity as Waldershare and Endymion sepa- 
 rated, *' do you think you could favor me this evening with 
 Mr. Sidney Wilton's address ? We have always supported Mr. 
 Wilton's views on the Corn Laws, and if put clearly and power- 
 fully before the country at this juncture, the effect might be 
 great, perhaps even, if sustained, decisive." 
 
 Eight-and-forty hours and more had elapsed since the con- 
 versation between Endymion and Lady Montfort ; they had 
 not been happy days. For the first time during their acquaini.- 
 ance there had been constraint and embarrassment between 
 them. Lady Montfort no longer opposed his views, but she 
 did not approve them. She avoided the subject ; she looked 
 uninterested in all that was going on around her ; talked of 
 joining her lord and going a-fishing ; felt he was right in his 
 views of life. "Dear Simon was always right," and then she 
 sighed, and then she shrugged her very pretty shoulders. En- 
 dymion, though he called on her as usual, found there was 
 nothing to converse about ; politics seemed tacitly forbidden, 
 and when he attempted small talk Lady Montfort seemed ab- 
 sent — and once absolutely yawned. 
 
 What amazed Endymion still more was, that, under these 
 rather distressing circumstances, he did not find adequate sup- 
 port and sympathy in his sister. Lady Eoehampton did not 
 question the propriety of his decision, but she seemed quite as 
 unhappy and as dissatisfied as Lady Montfort. 
 
 *' What you say, dearest Endymion, is quite unanswerable, 
 and I alone perhaps can really know that ; but what I feel is, I 
 have failed in life. My dream was to secure you greatness, and 
 now, when the first occasion arrives, it seems I am more than 
 powerless. " 
 
 "Dearest sister ! you have done so much for me." 
 
 "Nothing," said Lady Eoehampton ; "what I have done 
 for you would have been done by every sister in this metropolis. 
 I dreamed of other things ; I fancied, with my affection and 
 my will, I could command events, and place you on a pinnacle. 
 
ENDYMIOK AND HIS SISTER, 307 
 
 I see my folly now ; others have controlled your life, not I — as 
 was most natural ; natural, but still bitter." 
 
 "Dearest Myra !" 
 
 *^ It is so, Endymion. Let us deceive ourselves no longer. 
 I ought not to have rested until you were in a position which 
 would have made you master of your destiny." 
 
 **But if there should be such a thing as destiny, it will not 
 submit to the mastery of man." 
 
 *^Do not split words with me; you know what I mean; 
 you feel what I mean ; I mean much more than I say, and 
 you understand much more than I say. My lord told me to 
 ask you to dine with us, if you called, but I will not ask you. 
 There is no joy in meeting at present. I feel as I felt in our 
 last year at Hurstley." 
 
 "Oh ! don't say that, dear Myra!" and Endymion sprang 
 forward and kissed her very much. " Trust me ; all will come 
 right ; a little patience, and all will come right." 
 
 " I have had patience enough in life," said Lady Eoehamp- 
 ton ; " years of patience, the most doleful, the most dreary, 
 the most dark and tragical. And I bore it all, and I bore it 
 well, because I thought of you, and had confidence in you, 
 and confidence in your star ; and because, like an idiot, I had 
 schooled myself to believe that, if I devoted my will to you, 
 that star would triumph." 
 
 So, the reader will see that our hero was not in a very 
 serene and genial mood when he was buttonholed by the edi- 
 tor in the lobby, and, it is feared, he was unusually curt with 
 that gentleman, which editors do not like, and sometimes re- 
 ward with a leading article in consequence, on the character 
 and career of our political chief, perhaps with some passing 
 reference to jacks-in-office, and the superficial impertinence of 
 private secretaries. These wise and amiable speculators on 
 public affairs should, however, sometimes charitably remember 
 that even ministers have their chagrins, and that the trained 
 temper and imperturbable presence of mind of their aides-de- 
 camp are not absolutely proof to all the infirmities of human 
 nature. 
 
 Endymion had returned home from the lobby, depressed 
 
308 ENDYMIOyr. 
 
 and dispirited. The last incident of our life shapes and colors 
 our feelings. Ever since he had settled in London, his life 
 might be said to have been happy, gradually and greatly pros- 
 perous. The devotion of his sister and the eminent position 
 she had achieved, the friendship of Lady Montfort, and the 
 kindness of society, who had received him with open arms, 
 his easy circumstances after painful narrowness of means, his 
 honorable and interesting position — these had been the chief 
 among many other causes which had justly rendered Endymion 
 Ferrars a satisfied and contented man. And it was more than 
 to be hoped that not one of these sources would be wanting in 
 his future. And yet he felt dejected, even to unhappiness. M3rra 
 figured to his painful consciousness only as deeply wounded" 
 in her feelings, and he somehow the cause ; Lady Montfort, 
 from whom he had never received anything but smiles and 
 inspiring kindness, and witty raillery, and affectionate solici- 
 tude for his welfare, offended and estranged. And as for soci- 
 ety, perhaps it would make a great difference in his position if 
 he were no longer a private secretary to a cabinet minister and 
 only a simple clerk; he could not, even at this melancholy 
 moment, dwell on his impending loss of income, though that 
 increase at the time had occasioned him, and those who loved 
 him, so much satisfaction. And yet was he in fault ? Had 
 his decision been a narrow-minded and craven one ? He could 
 not bring himself to believe so — his conscience assured him 
 that he had acted rightly. After all that he had experienced 
 he was prepared to welcome an obscure, but could not endure a 
 humiliating, position. 
 
 It was a long summer evening. The house had not sat after 
 the announcement of the ministers. The twilight lingered with 
 a charm almost as irresistible as among woods and waters. 
 Endymion had been engaged to dine out, but had excused him- 
 self. Had it not been for the Montfort misunderstanding, he 
 would have gone ; but that haunted him. He had not called 
 on her that day ; he really had not courage to meet her. He 
 was beginning to think that he might never see her again ; 
 never, certainly, on the same terms. She had the reputation 
 of being capricious, though she had been constant in her kind' 
 
A SUBPmSE. 309 
 
 ness to liim. Never see her again, or only see her changed ! 
 He was not aware of the fullness of his misery before. He 
 was not aware, until this moment, that unless he saw her every 
 day life would be intolerable. 
 
 He sat down at his table, covered with notes in every female 
 handwriting except the right one, and with cards of invitation 
 to banquets and balls and concerts, and "very earlies," and 
 carpet dances — for our friend was a very fashionable young man 
 — ^but what is the use of even being fashionable, if the person 
 you love cares for you no more ? And so out of very wanton- 
 ness, instead of opening notes sealed or stamped with every 
 form of coronet, he took up a business-like epistle, closed only 
 with a wafer, and saying in drollery, "I should think a dun," 
 he took out a scrip receipt for £20,000 Consols, purchased 
 that morning in the name of Endymion Ferrars, Esq. It was 
 inclosed in half a sheet of note-paper, on which were written 
 these words, in a handwriting which gave no clew of acquaint- 
 anceship, or even sex : *' Mind — you are to send me your first 
 frank." 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 It was useless to ask who could it be ? It could only be 
 one person ; and yet how could it have been managed ? So 
 completely and so promptly ! Her lord, too, away ; the only 
 being, it would seem, who could have effected for her such a 
 purpose, and he the last individual to whom, perhaps, she 
 would have apijlied. Was it a dream ? The long twilight 
 was dying away, and it dies away in the Albany a little sooner 
 than it does in Park Lane ; and so he lit the candles on his 
 mantelpiece, and then again unfolded the document carefully, 
 and read it and reread it. It was not a dream. He held in 
 his hand firmly, and read with his eyes clearly, the evidence 
 that he was the uncontrolled master of no slight amount of 
 capital, and which, if treated with prudence, secured to him 
 for life an absolute and becoming independence. His heart 
 beat and his cheek glowed. 
 
310 ENDYMION. 
 
 What a woman ! And how true were Myra's last words to 
 Hurstley, that women would be his best friends in life I He 
 ceased to think ; and, dropping into his chair, fell into a rev- 
 erie, in which the past and the future seemed to blend, with 
 some mingling of a vague and almost ecstatic present. It was 
 a dream of fair women, and even fairer thoughts ; domestic 
 tenderness and romantic love, mixed up with strange vicissi- 
 tudes of lofty and fiery action, and passionate passages of elo- 
 quence and power. The clock struck and roused him from his 
 musing. He fell from the clouds. Could he accept this boon ? 
 "Was his doing so consistent with that principle of indepen- 
 dence on which he had resolved to build up his life ? The 
 boon thus conferred might be recalled and returned ; not 
 legally indeed, but by a stronger influence than any law — the 
 consciousness on his part that the feeling of interest in his life 
 which had prompted it might change — would, must change. 
 It was the romantic impulse of a young and fascinating woman, 
 who had been to him invai-iably kind, but who had a reputa- 
 tion for caprice, which was not unknown to him. It was a 
 wild and beautiful adventure ; but only that. 
 
 He walked up and down his rooms for a long time, some- 
 times thinking, sometimes merely musing ; sometimes in a 
 pleased but gently agitated state of almost unconsciousness. 
 At last he sat down at his writing-table, and wrote for some 
 time ; and then directing the letter to the Countess of Mont- 
 fort, he resolved to change the current of his thoughts, and 
 went to a club. 
 
 Morning is not romantic. Eomance is the twilight spell ; 
 but morn is bright and joyous, prompt with action, and full 
 of sanguine hope. Life has few difficulties in the morning, at 
 least none which we can not conquer ; and a private secretary 
 to a minister, young and prosperous, at his first meal, sur- 
 rounded by dry toast, all the newspapers, and files of corre- 
 spondence, asking and promising everything, feels with pride 
 and delight the sense of powerful and responsible existence. 
 Endymion had glanced at all the leading articles, had sorted in 
 the correspondence the grain from the chaff, and had settled 
 in his mind those who must be answered and those who must 
 
CONUN^DEUMS. 311 
 
 be seen. The strange incident of last night was of course not 
 forgotten, but removed, as it were, from his consciousness in 
 the bustle and pressure of active life, when his servant brought 
 him a letter in a handwriting he knew right well. He would 
 not open it till he was alone, and then it was with a beating 
 heart and a burning cheek. 
 
 Lady Moktfort's Letter. 
 
 *' What is it all about ? and what does it all mean ? I should 
 have thought some great calamity had occurred if, however dis- 
 tressing, it did not appear in some sense to be gratifying. What 
 is gratifying ? You deal in conundrums, which I never could 
 find out. Of course I shall be at home to you at any time, if 
 you wish to see me. Pray come on at once, as I detest mysteries. 
 I went to the play last night with your sister. We both of us 
 rather expected to see you, but it seems neither of us had men- 
 tioned to you we were going. I did not, for I was too low-spir- 
 ited about your affairs. You lost nothing. The piece was stu- 
 pid beyond expression. We laughed heartily, at least I did, to 
 show we were not afraid. My lord came home last night, sud- 
 denly. Odo is going to stand for the county, and his borough 
 is vacant. What an opportunity it would have been for you ! a 
 certain seat. But I care for no boroughs now. My lord will 
 want you to dine with him to-day ; I hope you can come. Per- 
 haps he will not be able to see you this morning, as his agent 
 will be with him about these elections. Adieu ! " 
 
 If Lady Montfort did not like conundrums, she had succeed- 
 ed, however, in sending one sufficiently perplexing to Endym- 
 ion. Could it be possible that the writer of this letter was the 
 unknown benefactress of the preceding eve ? Lady Montfort 
 was not a mystifier. Her nature was singularly frank and fear- 
 less, and when Endymion told her everything that had occurred, 
 and gave her the document which originally he had meant to 
 bring with him in order to return it, her amazement and her joy 
 were equal. 
 
 "I wish I had sent it," said Lady Montfort, " but that was 
 impossible. I do not care who did send it ; I have no female 
 
312 ENDYMIOK 
 
 curiosity except about matters which, by knowledge, I may in- 
 fluence. This is finished. You are free. You can not hesitate 
 as to your course. I never could speak to you again if you did 
 hesitate. Stop here, and I will go to my lord. This is a great 
 day. If we can only settle to-day that you shall be the candi- 
 date for our borough, I really shall not much care for the change 
 of ministry." 
 
 Lady Montfort was a long time away. Endymion would 
 have liked to have gone forth on his affairs, but she had im- 
 pressed upon him so earnestly to wait for her return that he felt . 
 he could not retire. The room was one to which he was not 
 unaccustomed, otherwise its contents would not have been un- 
 interesting ; her portrait by more than one great master, a minia- 
 ture of her husband in a Venetian dress upon her writing table 
 —a table which wonderfully indicated alike the lady of fashion 
 and the lady of business, for there seemed to be no form in 
 which paper could be folded and emblazoned which was there 
 wanting ; quires of letter paper, and note paper, and notelet 
 paper, from dispatches of state to billet-doux, all were ready ; 
 great covers with arms and supporters, more moderate ones with 
 "Berengaria" in letters of glittering fancy, and the destined 
 shells of diminutive effusions marked only with a golden bee. 
 There was another table covered with trinkets and precious toys : 
 snuff-boxes and patch-boxes beautifully painted, exquisite min- 
 iatures, rare fans, cups of agate, birds glittering with gems 
 almost as radiant as the tropic plumage they imitated, wild 
 animals cut out of ivory, or formed of fantastic pearls — all 
 the spoils of queens and royal mistresses. 
 
 Upon the walls were drawings of her various homes ; that 
 of her childhood, as well as of the hearths she ruled and loved. 
 There were a few portraits on the walls also of those whom she 
 ranked as her particular friends. Lord Roehampton was one, 
 another was the Count of Ferroll. 
 
 Time went on ; on a little table, by the side of evidently 
 her favorite chair, was a book she had been reading. It was a 
 German tale of fame, and Endymion, droi^ping into her seat, 
 became interested in a volume which hitherto he had never 
 seen, but of which he had heard much. 
 
 I 
 
DISAPPOINTMENT. 313 
 
 Perhaps he had been reading for some time ; there was a 
 sound, he started and looked np, and then springing from his 
 chair, he said, "Something has happened !" 
 
 Lady Montfort was quite pale and the expression of her 
 countenance distressed, but when he said these words she tried 
 to smile, and said, "No, no, nothing, nothing — at least no- 
 thing to distress you. My lord hopes you will be able to dine 
 with him to-day, and tell him all the news." And then she 
 threw herself into a chair and sighed. " I should like to have a 
 good cry, as the servants say, but I never could cry. I will tell 
 you all about it in a moment. You were very good not to go." 
 
 It seems that Lady Montfort saw her lord before the agent, 
 who was waiting, had had his interview, and the opportunity 
 being in every way favorable, she felt the way about obtaining 
 his cousin's seat for Endymion. Lord Montfort quite em- 
 braced the proposal. It had never occurred to him. He had 
 no idea that Ferrars contemplated Parliament. It was a cap- 
 ital idea. He could not bear reading the Parliament reports, 
 and yet he liked to know a little of what was going on. Now, 
 when anything happened of interest, he should have it all from 
 the fountain head. " And you must tell him, Berengaria," he 
 continued, " that he can come and dine here whenever he likes, 
 in boots. It is a settled thing that M. P.s may dine in boots. 
 I think it a most capital plan. Besides, I know it will please 
 you. You will have your own member." 
 
 Then he rang the bell, and begged Lady Montfort to re- 
 main and see the agent. Nothing like the present time for 
 business. They would make all the arrangements at once, and 
 he would ask the agent to dine with them to-day, and so meet 
 Mr. Ferrars. 
 
 So the agent entered, and it was all explained to him, calm- 
 Ij and clearly, briefly by my lord, but with fervent amplifica- 
 tion by his charming wife. The agent several times attempted 
 to make a remark, but for some time he was unsuccessful ; 
 Lady Montfort was so anxious that he should know all about 
 Mr. Ferrars, the most rising young man of the day, the son of 
 the late Eight Honorable William Pitt Ferrars, who, had he 
 not died, would probably have been prime minister, and so on. 
 
 14 
 
314 ENLYMION. 
 
 " Mr. Ferrars seems to be everything we could wish," said 
 the agent, *'and as you say, my lady, though he is young, so 
 was Mr. Pitt, and I have little doubt, after what you say, my 
 lady, that it is very likely he will in time become as eminent. 
 But what I came up to town particularly to impress upon my 
 lord is, that if Mr. Odo will not stand again, we are in a very 
 gi-eat difficulty." 
 
 ** Difficulty about what ? " said Lady Montfort, impatiently. 
 
 ** Well, my lady, if Mr. Odo stands, there is great respect 
 for him. The other side would not disturb him. He has been 
 member for some years, and my lord has been very liberal. 
 But the truth is, if Mr. Odo does not stand, we can not com- 
 mand the seat." 
 
 " Not command the seat ! Then our interest must have 
 been terribly neglected." 
 
 " I hope not, my lady," said the agent. " The fact is, the 
 property is against us." 
 
 **I thought it was all my lord's." 
 
 ''No, my lady, the strong interest in the borough is my 
 Lord Beaumaris. It used to be about equal, but all the new 
 buildings are in Lord Beaumaris's part of the borough. It 
 would not have signified if things had remained as in the old 
 days. The grandfather of the present lord was a Whig, and 
 always supported the Montforts, but that's all changed. The 
 present earl has gone over to the other side, and I hear is very 
 strong in hia views. " 
 
 Lady Montfort had to communicate all this to Endymion. 
 ** You will meet the agent at dinner, but he did not give me a 
 ray of hope. Go now ; indeed, I have kept you too long. I 
 am so stricken that I can scarcely command my senses. Only 
 think of our borough being stolen from us by Lord Beaumaris ! 
 I have brought you no luck, Endymion ; I have done you no- 
 thing but mischief ; I am miserable. If you had attached your- 
 self to Lady Beaumaris, you might have been a member oi 
 Parliament." 
 
WALDERSHARE AND TADPOLE. 315 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 Iisr the mean time, the great news being no longer a secret, 
 the utmost excitement prevailed in the world of politics. The 
 Tories had quite made up their minds that the ministry would 
 have resigned, and were sanguine, under such circumstances, 
 of the result. The Parliament, which the ministry was going 
 to dissolve, was one which had been elected by their counsel 
 and under their auspices. It was unusual, almost unconstitu- 
 tional, thus to terminate the body they had created. Never- 
 theless, the Whigs, never too delicate in such matters, thought 
 they had a chance, and determined not to lose it. One thing 
 they immediately succeeded in, and that was, frightening their 
 opponents. A dissolution with the Tories in opposition was 
 not pleasant to that party, but a dissolution with a cry of 
 cheap bread amid a partially starving population, was not ex- 
 actly the conjuncture of providential circumstances which had 
 long been watched and wished for, and cherished and coddled, 
 and proclaimed and promised, by the energetic army of Con- 
 gervative wire-pullers. 
 
 Mr. Tadpole was very restless at the crowded Carlton, speak- 
 ing to every one, unhesitatingly answering every question, alike 
 cajoling and dictatorial, and yet, all the time, watching the 
 door of the morning room with unquiet anxiety. 
 
 " They will never be able to get up the steam. Sir Thomas, 
 the Chartists are against them. The Chartists will never sub- 
 mit to anything that is cheap. In spite of their wild fancies, 
 hey are real John Bulls. I beg your pardon, but I see a 
 gentleman I must speak to," and he rushed toward the door 
 is Waldershare entered. 
 
 '^Well, what is your news? "asked Mr. Tadpole, affecting 
 unconcern. 
 
 ^'1 come here for news," said Waldershare. "This is my 
 Academus, and you. Tadpole, are my Plato." 
 
 " Well, if you want the words of a wise man, listen to me. 
 [f I had a great friend, which Mr. Waldershare probably has. 
 
316 ENDYMIOK 
 
 who wants a great place, these are times in which such a man 
 should show his power." 
 
 " I have a great friend whom I wish to have a gi-eat place," 
 said Waldershare, " and I think he is quite ready to show his 
 power, if he knew exactly how to exercise it." 
 
 "What I am saying to you is not known to a single person 
 in this room, and to only one out of it, but you may depend 
 upon what I say. Lord Montfort*s cousin retires from North- 
 borough to sit for the county. They think they can nominate 
 his successor as a matter of course. A delusion ; your friend 
 Lord Beaumaris can command the seat." 
 
 " Well, I think you can depend on Beaumaris," said Walder- 
 share, much interested. 
 
 ** I depend upon you," said Mr. Tadpole with a glance of 
 affectionate credulity. "The party already owes you much. 
 This will be a crowning service." 
 
 "Beaumaris is rather a queer man to deal with," said Wal- 
 dershare ; "he requires gentle handling." 
 
 "All the world says he consults you on everything." 
 
 "All the world, as usual, is wrong," said Waldershare. 
 "Lord Beaumaris consults no one except Lady Beaumaris." 
 
 " Well then we shall do," rejoined Mr. Tadpole triunv- 
 phantly. " Our man that I want him to return is a connec- 
 tion of Lady Beaumaris, a Mr. Rodney, very anxious to get into 
 Parliament, and rich. I do not know who he is exactly, but it 
 is a good name ; say a cousin of Lord Rodney until the election 
 is over, and then they may settle it as they like." 
 
 "A Mr. Rodney," said Waldershare musingly ; "well, if I 
 hear anything I will let you know. I suppose you are in pretty 
 good spirits ? " 
 
 "I should like a little sunshine. A cold spring, and now a 
 wet summer, and the certainty of a shocking harvest combined 
 with manufacturing distress spreading daily is not pleasant, 
 but the English are a discriminating people. They will hardly 
 persuade them that Sir Robert has occasioned the bad harvests." 
 
 "The present men are clearly responsible for all that,", 
 said Waldershare. 
 
 There was a reception at Lady Roehampton's this evening. 
 
ENDYMION AND IMOGENS. 317 
 
 Very few Tories attended it, but Lady Beaumaris was there. 
 She never lost an opportunity of showing by her presence how 
 grateful she was to Myra for the kindness which had greeted 
 Imogene when she first entered society. Endymion, as was 
 his custom when the opportunity offered, rather hung about 
 Lady Beaumaris. She always welcomed him with unaffected 
 cordiality and evident pleasure. He talked to her, and then 
 gave way to others, and then came and talked to her again, 
 and then he proposed to take her to have a cup of tea, and she 
 assented to the proposal with a brightening eye and a bewitch- 
 ing smile. 
 
 **I suppose your friends are very triumphant. Lady Beau- 
 maris ? " said Endymion. 
 
 ** Yes ; they naturally are very excited. I confess I am 
 not myself." 
 
 **But you ought to be," said Endymion, *^ you will have 
 an immense position. I should think Lord Beaumaris would 
 have any office he chose, and yours will be the chief house of 
 the party." 
 
 *'I do not know that Lord Beaumaris would care to have 
 office, and I hardly think any office would suit him. As for 
 myself, I am obliged to be ambitious, but I have no ambition, 
 or rather I would say, I think I was happier when we all 
 seemed to be on the same side." 
 
 "Well, those were happy days," said Endymion, "and 
 these are happy days. And few things make me happier than 
 to see Lady Beaumaris admired and appreciated by everyone." 
 
 " I wish you would not call me Lady Beaumaris. That 
 may be, and indeed perhaps is, necessary in society, but when 
 we are alone, I prefer being called by a name which once you 
 always and kindly used." 
 
 "I shall always love the name," said Endymion, "and," he 
 added with some hesitation, "shall always love her who bears 
 it." 
 
 She involuntarily pressed his arm, though very slightly ; and 
 then in rather a hushed and hurried tone she said, "They 
 were talking about you at dinner to-day. I fear this change 
 of government, if there is to be one, will be injurious to you— 
 
318 ENDYMIOK. 
 
 losing your private secretaryship to Mr. Wilton, and perhaps 
 other things ? " 
 
 "Fortune of war/' said Endymion, "we must bear these 
 haps. But the truth is, I think it not unlikely there may be 
 a change in my life which may be incompatible with retaining 
 my secretaryship under any circumstances." 
 
 "You are not going to be married ?" she said quickly. 
 
 " Not the slightest idea of such an event." 
 
 "You are too young to marry." 
 
 "Well, I am older than you." 
 
 "Yes ; but men and women are different in that matter. 
 Besides, you have too many fair friends to marry, at least at 
 present. What would Lady Roehampton say ? " 
 
 "Well, I have sometimes thought my sister wished me to 
 marry." 
 
 "But then there are others who are not sisters, but who 
 are equally interested in your welfare," said Lady Beaumaris 
 looking up into his face with her wondrous eyes, but the lashes 
 were so long, that it was impossible to decide whether the 
 glance was an anxious one or one half of mockery. 
 
 "Well, I do not think I shall ever marry," said Endymion. 
 " The change in my life I was alluding to is one by no means 
 of a romantic character. I have some thoughts of trying my 
 luck on the hustings, and getting into Parliament." 
 
 "That would be delightful," said Lady Beaumaris. "Do 
 you know that it has been one of my dreams that you should 
 be in Parliament ? " 
 
 " Ah ! dearest Imogene, for you said I might call you Imo- 
 gene, you must take care what you say. Remember we are 
 unhappily in different camps. You must not wish me success 
 in my enterprise ; quite the reverse ; it is more than probable 
 that you will have to exert all your influence against me ; yes, 
 canvass against me and wear hostile ribbons, and use all your 
 iiTesistible charms to array electors against me, or to detach 
 them from my ranks." 
 
 "Even in jest, you ought not to say such things," said 
 Lady Beaumaris. 
 
 " But I am not in jest, I am in dreadful earnest. Only this 
 
LADY MONTFORrS CHARACTER. 319 
 
 morning I was offered a seat, which they told me was secure ; 
 but when I inquired into all the circumstances, I found the 
 interest of Lord Beaumaris so great, that it would be folly for 
 me to attempt it." 
 
 ** What seat ? " inquired Lady Beaumaris in a low tone. 
 
 " Northborough," said Endymion, " now held by Lord Mont- 
 fort's cousin, who is to come in for his county. The seat was 
 offered to me, and I was told I was to be returned without op- 
 position. " 
 
 "Lady Montfort offered it to you ?" asked Imogene. 
 
 *^She interested herself for me, and Lord Montfort ap- 
 proved the suggestion. It was described to me as a family 
 seat, but when I looked into the matter, I found that Lord 
 Beaumaris was more powerful than Lord Montfort." 
 
 "I thought that Lady Montfort was irresistible," said Imo- 
 gene ; " she carries all before her in society." 
 
 ** Society and politics have much to do with each other, but 
 they are not identical. In the present case, Lady Montfort is 
 powerless." 
 
 " And have you forinally abandoned the seat ? " inquired 
 Lady Beaumaris. 
 
 *' Not formally abandoned it ; that was not necessary, but 
 I have dismissed it from my mind, and for some time have 
 been trying to find another seat, but hitherto without success. 
 In short in these days it is no longer possible to step into Par- 
 liament as if j^ou were stepping into a club." 
 
 " If I could do anything, hov^ever little ? " said Imogene. 
 " Perhaps Lady Montfort would not like me to interfere ?" 
 * "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh ! I do not know," and then after some hesitation she 
 added, "Is she jealous ?" 
 
 "Jealous ! why should she be jealous ?" 
 
 " Perhaps she has had no cause. " 
 
 "You know Lady Montfort. She is a woman of quick and 
 brilliant feeling, the best of friends and a dauntless foe. Her 
 kindness to me from the first moment I made her acquaintance 
 has been inexpressible, and I sincerely believe she is most 
 anxious to serve me. But our party is not very popular at 
 
320 ENDYMION, 
 
 present ; there is no doubt the country is against us. It is 
 tired of us. I feel myself the general election will be disas- 
 trous. Liberal seats are not abundant just now, quite the 
 reverse, and though Lady Montfort has done more than any 
 one could under the circumstances, I feel persuaded, though 
 you think her irresistible, she will not succeed." 
 
 **I hardly know her," said Imogene. **The world consid- 
 ers her irresistible, and I think you do. Nevertheless, I wish 
 she could have had her way in this matter, and I think it quite a 
 pity that Northborough has turned out not to be a family seat." 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 There was a dinner-party at Mr. Neuchatel's, to which 
 none were asked but the high government clique. It was the 
 last dinner before the dissolution : ** The dinner of consola- 
 tion, or hope," said Lord Eoehampton. Lady Montfort was to 
 be one of the guests. She was dressed, and her carriage in the 
 court-yard, and she had just gone in to see her lord before she 
 departed. 
 
 Lord Montfort was extremely fond of jewels, and held that 
 you could not see them to advantage, or fairly judge of their 
 water or color, except on a beautiful woman. When his wife 
 was in grand toilet, and he was under the same roof, he liked 
 her to call on him in her way to her carriage that he might see 
 her flashing rivieres and tiaras, the luster of her huge pearls 
 and the splendor of her emeralds and sapphires and rubies. 
 
 "Well, Berengaria," he said in a playful tone, "you look 
 divine. Never dine out again in a high dress. It distresses 
 me. Bertolini was the only man who ever caught the tournure 
 of your shoulders, and yet I am not altogether satisfied with 
 his v/ork. So, you are going to dine with that good Neuchj 
 tel. Remember me kindly to him. There are few men I like 
 better. He is so sensible, knows so much, and so much 
 what is going on. I should have liked very much to hav( 
 dined with him, but he is aware of my unfortunate state. 
 
BERENG ARIA'S LORD. 321 
 
 sides, my dear, if I were better I should not have strength for 
 his dinners. They are really banquets ; I can not stand those 
 ortolans stuffed with truffles and those truffles stuffed with 
 ortolans. Perhaps he will come and dine with us some day off 
 a joint. " 
 
 " The Queen of Mesopotamia will be here next week, Simon, 
 and we must really give her what you call a joint, and then 
 we can ask the Neuchatels and a few other people." 
 
 " I was in hopes the dissolution would have carried every- 
 body away," said Lord Montfort, rather wofully. "I wish 
 the Queen of Mesopotamia were a candidate for some borough ; 
 I think she would rather like it." 
 
 *^ Well, we could not return her, Simon ; do not touch on 
 the subject. But what have you got to amuse you to-day ? " 
 
 *^0h! I shall do very well. I have got the head of the 
 French detective police to dine with me, and another man or 
 two. Besides, I have got here a most amusing book, ' Topsy 
 Turvy ; ' it comes out in numbers. I like books that come 
 out in numbers, as there is a little suspense, and you can not 
 deprive yourself of all interest by glancing at the last page of 
 the last volume. I think you must read ' Topsy Turvy,' Beren- 
 garia. I am mistaken if you do not hear of it. It is very 
 cynical, which authors, who know a little of the world, are apt 
 to be, and everything is exaggerated, which is another of their 
 faults when they are only a trifle acquainted with manners. 
 A little knowledge of the world is a very dangerous thing, es- 
 pecially in literature. But it is clever, and the man writes a 
 capital style ; and style is everything, especially in fiction." 
 
 *' And what is the name of the writer, Simon ? " 
 
 ^' You never heard of it ; I never did ; but my secretary, 
 who lives much in Bohemia, and is a member of the Cosmo- 
 politan and knows everything, tells me he has written some 
 things before, but they did not succeed. His name is St. Barbe. 
 I should like to ask him to dinner if I knew how to get at him." 
 
 " Well, adieu ! Simon," and, with an agitated heart, 
 though apparent calmness, she touched his forehead with her 
 lips. **I expect an unsatisfactory dinner." 
 
 *' Adieu ! and if you meet poor Ferrars, which I dare say 
 
322 ENDYMIOK 
 
 you will, tell him to keep up his spirits. The world is a wheel, 
 and it will all come round right." 
 
 The dinner ought not to have been unsatisfactory, for 
 though there was no novelty among the guests, they were all 
 clever and distinguished persons and united by entire sympa- 
 thy. Several of the ministers were there, and the Roehamp- 
 tons, and Mr. Sidney Wilton, and Endymion was also a guest. 
 But the general tone was a little affected and unnatural ; forced 
 gayety, and a levity which displeased Lady Montfort, who 
 fancied she was unhappy because the country was going to be 
 ruined, but whose real cause of dissatisfaction at the bottom 
 of her heart was the affair of "the family seat." Her hero. 
 Lord Roehampton, particularly did not please her to-day. 
 She thought him flippant and in bad taste, merely because he 
 would not look dismal and talk gloomily. 
 
 "I think we shall do very well," he said. "What cry can 
 be better than that of cheap bread ? It gives one an appetite 
 at once." 
 
 "But the Corn-Law League says your bread will not be 
 cheap," said Melchior Neuchatel. 
 
 "I wonder whether the League has really any power in the 
 constituencies," said Lord Roehampton. " I doubt it. They 
 may have in time, but then in the interval trade will revive. I 
 have just been reading Mr. Thornberry's speech. We shall 
 hear more of that man. You will not be troubled about any 
 of your seats ? " he said, in a lower tone of sympathy, address- 
 ing Mrs. Neuchatel, who was his immediate neighbor. 
 
 "Our seats?" said Mrs. Neuchatel, as if waking from a 
 dream. " Oh, I know nothing about them, nor do I under- 
 stand why there is a dissolution. I trust that Parliament will 
 not be dissolved without voting the money for the observation 
 of the transit of Venus." 
 
 "I think the Roman Catholic vote will carry us through," 
 said a minister. 
 
 "Talking of Roman Catholics," said Mr. Wilton, "is it 
 true that Penruddock has gone over to Rome ? " 
 
 "No truth in it," replied a colleague. "He has gone to 
 Rome — there is no doubt of that, and he has been there some 
 
GOOD WISHES. 323 
 
 time, but only for distraction. He had overworked him- 
 self." 
 
 '* He might have been a Dean if he had been a practical 
 man," whispered Lady Montfort to Mr. Neuchatel, "and on 
 the high road to a bishopric," 
 
 *' That is what we want, Lady Montfort," said Mr. Neu- 
 chatel ; "we want a few practical men. If we had a practical 
 man as Chancellor of the Exchequer we should not have been 
 \n the scrape in which we now are." 
 
 " It is not likely that Penruddock will leave the Church 
 with a change of government possibly impending. We could 
 do nothing for him with his views, but he will wait for Peel." 
 
 " Oh ! Peel will never stand those high-flyers. He put the 
 Church into a Lay Commission during his last government." 
 
 "Penruddock will never give up Anglicanism while there 
 is a chance of becoming a Laud. When that chance vanishes, 
 trust my word, Penruddock will make his bow to the Vati- 
 can." 
 
 " Well, I must say," said Lord Roehampton, " if I were a 
 clergyman I should be a Roman Catholic." 
 
 " Then you could not marry. What a compliment to Lady 
 Roehampton ! " 
 
 "Nay; it is because I could not marry that I am not a 
 clergyman." 
 
 Endymion had taken Adriana down to dinner. She looked 
 very well, and was more talkative than usual. 
 
 "I fear it will be a very great confusion — this general elec- 
 tion," she said. " Papa was telling us that you think of being 
 a candidate." 
 
 " I am a candidate, but without a seat to captivate at pres- 
 ent," said Endymion ; " but I am not without hopes of making 
 some arrangement." 
 
 " Well, you must tell me what your colors are." 
 
 " And will you wear them ? " 
 
 " Most certainly ; and I will work you a banner if you be 
 victorious." 
 
 " I think I must win with such a prospect." 
 
 "I hope you will win in everything." 
 
324 ENBYMION. 
 
 When the ladies retired, Berengaria came and sat by the 
 side of Lady Roehampton. 
 
 ^' What a dreary dinner ! " she said. 
 
 ''Do you think so?" 
 
 '* Well, perhaps it was my own fault. Perhaps I am not in 
 good cue, but everything seems to me to go wrong." 
 
 "Things sometimes do go wrong, but then they get right." 
 
 " Well, I do not think anything will ever get right with 
 me." 
 
 " Dear Lady Montfort, how can you say such things ! You 
 who have, and have always had, the world at your feet— and 
 always will have." 
 
 " I do not know what you mean by having the world at my 
 feet. It seems to me I have no power whatever — I can do no- 
 thing. I am vexed about this business of your brother. Our 
 people are so stupid. They have no resource. When I go to 
 them and ask for a seat I expect a seat, as I would a shawl at 
 Howell and James* if I asked for one. Instead of that they 
 only make difficulties. What our party wants is a Mr. Tad- 
 pole ; he out-manoeuvres them in every corner." 
 
 "Well, I shall be deeply disappointed — deeply pained," 
 said Lady Eoehampton, "if Endymion is not in this Parlia- 
 ment, but if we fail I will not utterly despair. I will continue 
 to do what I have done all my life, exert my utmost will and 
 power to advance him." 
 
 "I thought I had will and power," said Lady Montfort, 
 "but the conceit is taken out of me. Your brother was to me 
 a source of great interest, from the first moment that I knew 
 him. His future was an object in life, and I thought I could 
 mold it. What a mistake ! Instead of making his fortune I 
 have only dissipated his life." 
 
 " You have been to him the kindest and the most valuable 
 of friends, and he feels it." 
 
 " It is no use being kind, and I am valuable to no one. I 
 often think if I disappeared to-morrow no one would miss 
 me." 
 
 "You are in a morbid mood, dear lady. To-morrow per- 
 haps everything will be right, and then you will feel that you 
 
A FAMILY ENGAGEMENT. 325 
 
 are surrounded by devoted friends, and by a husband who 
 adores you." 
 
 Lady Montfort gave a scrutinizing glance at Lady Roe- 
 hampton as she said this, then shook her head. " Ah ! there 
 it is, dear Myra. You judge from your own happiness ; you 
 do not know Lord Montfort. You know how I loye him, but 
 I am perfectly convinced he prefers my letters to my so- 
 ciety." 
 
 *' You see what it is to be a Madame de Sevigne," said Lady 
 Roehampton, trying to give a playful tone to the conversation. 
 
 '* You jest," said Lady Montfort ; " I am quite serious. No 
 one can deceive me ; would that they could ! I have the fatal 
 gift of reading persons, and penetrating motives, however deep 
 or complicated their character, and what I tell you about Lord 
 Montfort is unhappily too true." 
 
 In the mean time, while this interesting conversation was 
 taking place, the gentleman who had been the object of Lady 
 Montfort's eulogium, the gentleman who always out-manoeu- 
 vred her friends in every corner, was, though it was approach- 
 ing midnight, walking up and down Carlton Terrace with an 
 agitated and indignant countenance, and not alone. 
 
 " I tell you, Mr. Waldershare, I know it ; I have it almost 
 from Lord Beaumaris himself ; he has declined to support our 
 man, and no doubt will give his influence to the enemy." 
 
 *^I do not believe that Lord Beaumaris has made any en- 
 gagement whatever." 
 
 **A pretty state of affairs," exclaimed Mr. Tadpole. "I 
 do not know what the world has come to. Here are gentlemen 
 expecting high places in the Household, and under-secretary- 
 ships of state, and actually giving away our seats to our oppo- 
 nents." 
 
 "There is some family engagement about this seat between 
 the Houses of Beaumaris and Montfort, and Lord Beaumaris, 
 who is a young man, and who does not know as much about 
 these things as you and I do, naturally wants not to make a 
 mistake. But he has promised nothing and nobody. I know, 
 I might almost say I saw the letter, that he wrote to Lord 
 Montfort this day, asking for an interview to-morrow morning 
 
326 ENDYMION. 
 
 on the matter, and Lord Montfort has given him an appoint- 
 ment for to-morrow. This I know." 
 
 "Well, I must leave it to yon," said Mr. Tadpole. "You 
 must remember what we are fighting for. The constitution is 
 at stake." 
 
 "And the Church," said Waldershare. . 
 
 " And the landed interest, you may rely upon it," said Mr. 
 Tadpole. 
 
 **And your Lordship of the Treasury in posse Tadpole. 
 Truly it is a great stake." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXL 
 
 The interview between the heads of the two great houses 
 of Montfort and Beaumaris, on which the fate of a ministry 
 might depend, for it should always be recollected, that it was 
 only by a majority of one that Sir Kobert Peel had necessitated 
 the dissolution of Parliament, was not carried on exactly in the 
 spirit and with the means which would have occurred to and 
 been practiced by the race of Tadpoles and Tapers. 
 
 Lord Beaumaris was a very young man, handsome, extreme- 
 ly shy, and one who had only very recently mixed with the 
 circle in which he was bom. It was under the influence of 
 Imogene that, in soliciting an interview with Lord Montfort, 
 he had taken for him an unusual, not to say unprecedented 
 step. He had conjured up to himself in Lord Montfort the 
 apparition of a haughty "Whig peer, proud of his order, prouder 
 of his party, and not over-prejudiced in favor of one who had 
 quitted those sacred ranks, freezing with arrogant reserve and 
 condescending politeness. In short. Lord Beaumaris was ex- 
 tremely nervous when, ushered by many servants through many 
 chambers, there came forward to receive him the most sweetly 
 mannered gentleman alive, who not only gave him his hand, 
 but retained his guest's, saying, " We are a sort of cousins, I 
 believe, and ought to have been acquainted before, but you 
 know, perhaps, my wretched state," though what that was 
 
A MUTUAL AGREEMENT. 327 
 
 nobody exactly did know, particularly as Lord Montfort was 
 sometimes seen wading in streams breast-high while throwing 
 his skillful line over the rushing waters. *^ I remember your 
 grandfather," he said, " and with good cause. He pouched me 
 at Harrow, and it was the largest pouch I ever had. One does 
 not forget the first time one had a five-pound note." 
 
 And then when Lord Beaumaris, blushing and with much 
 hesitation, had stated the occasion of his asking for the inter- 
 view, that they might settle together about the representation 
 of Northborough in harmony with the old understanding be- 
 tween, the families which he trusted would always be main- 
 tained. Lord Montfort assured him that he was personally 
 obliged to him by his always supporting Odo, regretted that 
 Odo would retire, and then said if Lord Beaumaris had any 
 brother, cousin, or friend to bring forward, ho need hardly say 
 Lord Beaumaris might count upon him. " I am a Whig," he 
 continued, "and so was your father, but I am not particularly 
 pleased with the sayings and doings of my people. Between 
 ourselves, I think they have been in a little too long, and if 
 they do anything very strong, if, for instance, they give office 
 to O'Connell, I should not be at all surprised if I were myself 
 to sit on the cross benches." 
 
 It seems there was no member of the Beaumaris family who 
 wished at this juncture to come forward, and being assured of 
 this. Lord Montfort remarked there was a young man of 
 promise who much wished to enter the House of Commons, 
 not unknown he believed to Lord Beaumaris, and that was 
 Mr. Ferrars. He was the son of a distinguished man, now de- 
 parted, who in his day had been a minister of state. Lord 
 Montfort was quite ready to support Mr. Ferrars, if Lord Beau- 
 maris approved of the selection, but he placed himself entirely 
 in his hands. 
 
 Lord Beaumaris, blushing, said he quite approved of the 
 selection ; knew Mr. Ferrars very well, and liked him very 
 much ; and if Lord Montfort sanctioned it, would speak to 
 Mr. Ferrars himself. He believed Mr. Ferrars was a Liberal, 
 but he agreed with Lord Montfort, that in these days gentle- 
 men must be all of the same opinion if not on the same side, 
 
328 ENLYMIOK 
 
 and so on. And then they talked of fishing appropriately to 
 a book of very curious flies that was on the table, and they 
 agreed if possible to fish together in some famous waters that 
 Lord Beaumaris had in Hampshire, and then, as he was saying 
 farewell. Lord Montfort added, "Although I never pay visits, 
 because really in my wretched state I can not, there is no rea- 
 son why our wives should not know each other. Will you per- 
 mit Lady Montfort to have the honor of paying her respects to 
 Lady Beaumaris ? " 
 
 Talleyrand or Metternich could not have conducted an in-, 
 terview more skillfully. But these were just the things that 
 Lord Montfort did not dislike doing. His great good nature 
 was not disturbed by a single inconvenient circumstance, and 
 he enjoyed the sense of his adroitness. 
 
 The same day the cards of Lord and Lady Montfort were 
 sent to Piccadilly Terrace, and on the next day the cards of 
 Lord and Lady Beaumaris were returned to Montfort House. 
 And on the following day. Lady Montfort, accompanied by 
 Lady Roehampton, would find Lady Beaumaris at home, and 
 after a charming visit in which Lady Montfort, though natural 
 to the last degree, displayed every quality which could fasci- 
 nate even a woman, when she put her hand in that of Imogene 
 to say farewell, added, **I am delighted to find that we are 
 cousins." . !v: •. ::.;j c; oil 
 
 A few days after this interview. Parliament was dissolved. 
 It was the middle of a wet June, and the season received its 
 coup de grdce. Although Endymion had no rival, and ap- 
 parently no prospect of a contest, his labors as a candidate 
 were not slight. The constituency was numerous, and every 
 member of it expected to be called upon. To each Mr. Fer- 
 rars had to expound his political views, and to receive from 
 each a cordial assurance or a churlish criticism. All this he 
 did and endured, accompanied by about fifty of the principal 
 inhabitants, members of his committee, who insisted on never 
 leaving his side, and prompting him at every new door which 
 he entered with contradictory reports of the political opinions 
 of the indwellers, or confidential intimations how they were to 
 be managed and addressed. 
 
IN PARLIAMENT. 329 
 
 The principal and most laborious incidents of the day were 
 festivals which they styled luncheons, when the candidate and 
 the ambulatory committee were quartered on some principal 
 citizen with an elaborate banquet of several courses, and in 
 which Mr. Ferrars' health was always pledged in sparkling 
 bumpers. After the luncheon came two or three more hours 
 of what was called canvassing ; then in a state of horrible re- 
 pletion, the fortunate candidate, who had no contest, had to 
 dine with another principal citizen, with real turtle soup, and 
 gigantic turbots, entrees in the shape of volcanic curries, and 
 rigid venison, sent as a compliment by a neighboring peer. 
 This last ceremony was necessarily hurried, as Endymion had 
 every night to address in some ward a body of the electors. 
 
 When this had been going on for a few days, the borough 
 was suddenly placarded with posting bills in colossal characters 
 of true blue, warning tlie conservative electors not to promise 
 their votes, as a distinguished candidate of the right sort would 
 certainly come forward. At the same time there was a para- 
 graph in a local journal that a member of a noble family, illus- 
 trious in the naval annals of the country, would, if sufficiently 
 supported, solicit the suffrages of the independent electors. 
 
 '' We think by the allusion to the navy, that it must be Mr. 
 Hood of Acreley," said Lord Beaumaris's agent to Mr. Ferrars, 
 *^but he has not the ghost of a chance. I will ride over and 
 see him in the course of the day." 
 
 This placard was of course Mr. Tadpole's last effort, but 
 that worthy gentleman soon forgot his mortification about 
 Northborough in the general triumph of his party. The Whigs 
 were nowhere, though Mr. Ferrars was returned without op- 
 position, and in the month of August, still wondering at the 
 rapid, strange, and even mysterious incidents that had so sud- 
 denly and so swiftly changed his position and prospects in life, 
 took his seat in that house in whose galleries he had so long 
 humbly attended as the private secretary of a cabinet minister. 
 
 His friends were still in office, though the country had sent 
 up a majority of ninety against them, and Endymion took his 
 seat behind the Treasury bench, and exactly behind Lord Roe- 
 hampton. The debate on the address was protracted for three 
 
330 ENDYMION. 
 
 nights, and then they divided at three o'clock in the morning, 
 and then all was oyer. Lord Roehampton, who had vindicated 
 the ministry with admirable vigor and felicity, turned round 
 to Endymion, and, smiling, said in the sweetest tone, '* I did 
 not enlarge on our greatest feat, namely, that we had governed 
 the country for two years without a majority. Peel would 
 never have had the pluck to do that." 
 
 Notwithstanding the backslidings of Lord Beaumaris and 
 the unprincipled conduct of Mr. Waldershare, they were both 
 rewarded as the latter gentleman projected — Lord Beaumaris 
 accepted a high post in the Household and Mr. Waldershare 
 was appointed Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. 
 Tadpole was a little glum about it, but it was inevitable. ** The 
 fact is," as the world agreed, " Lady Beaumaris is the only 
 Tory woman. They have nobody who can receive except her." 
 
 The changes in the House of Commons were still greater 
 than those in the administration. Never were so many new 
 members, and Endymion watched them during the first days, 
 and before the debate on the address, taking the oaths at the 
 table in batches with much interest. Mr. Bertie Tremaine was 
 returned, and his brother, Mr. Tremaine Bertie. Job Thorn- 
 berry was member for a manufacturing town, with which he 
 was not otherwise connected. Ilortensius was successful, and 
 Mr. Vigo for a metropolitan borough, but what pleased Endym- 
 ion more than anything was the return of his valued friend, 
 Trenchard, who a short time before had acceded to the paternal 
 estate ; all these gentlemen were Liberals, and were destined to 
 sit on the same side of the House as Endymion. 
 
 After the fatal vote, the Whigs all left town. Society in 
 general had been previously greatly dispersed, but Parliament 
 had to remain sitting until October. 
 
 '^ We are going to Princedown," Lady Montfort said one 
 day to Endymion, ''and we had counted on seeing you there, 
 but I have been thinking much of your position since, and I 
 am persuaded that we must sacrifice pleasure to higher objects. 
 This is really a crisis in your life, and much, perhaps every- 
 thing, depends on your not making a mistake now. What I 
 want to see you is a great statesman. This is a political econ- 
 
LADY M0NTF0RT8 PLANS. ' 331 
 
 omy Parliament, both sides alike thinking of the price of corn 
 and all that. Finance and commerce are everybody's subjects, 
 and are most convenient to make speeches about for men who 
 can not speak French and who have had no education. Real 
 politics are the possession and distribution of power. I want 
 to see you give your mind to foreign affairs. There you will 
 have no rivals. There are a great many subjects which Lord 
 Roehampton can not take up, but which you could very prop- 
 erly, and you will have always the benefit of his counsel, and, 
 when necessary, his parliamentary assistance ; but foreign af- 
 fairs are not to be mastered by mere reading. Bookworms do 
 not make chancellors of state. You must become acquainted 
 with the great actors in the great scene. There is nothing like 
 personal knowledge of tie individuals who control the high 
 affairs. That has made the fortune of Lord Roehampton. 
 What I think you ought to do, without doubt ought to do, is 
 to take advantage of this long interval before the meeting of 
 Parliament, and go to Paris. Paris is now the capital of di- 
 plomacy. It is not the best time of the year to go there, but 
 you will meet a great many people of the diplomatic world, and 
 if the opportunity offers, you can vary the scene, and go to 
 some baths which princes and ministers frequent. The Count 
 of Ferroll is now at Paris, and minister for his court. You 
 know him ; that is well. But he is my greatest friend, and, 
 as you know, we habitually correspond. He will do everything 
 for you, I am sure, for my sake. It is not pleasant to be sep- 
 arated ; I do not wish to conceal that ; I should have enjoyed 
 your society at Princedown, but I am doing right, and you will 
 some day thank me for it. We must soften the pang of sepa- 
 ration by writing to each other every day, so when we meet 
 again it will only be as if we had parted yesterday. Besides, 
 who knows ? I may run over myself to Paris in the winter. 
 My lord always liked Paris ; the only place he ever did, but I 
 am not very sanguine he will go ; he is so afraid of being asked 
 to dinner by our ambassador." 
 
332 END Y MI ON. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIL 
 
 In all lives, the highest and the humblest, there is a crisis in 
 the formation of character, and in the bent of the disposition. 
 It comes from many causes, and from some which on the sur- 
 face are apparently even trivial. It may be a book a speech, 
 a sermon ; a man or a woman ; a great misfortune, or a burst 
 of prosperity. But the result is the same ; a sudden revelation 
 to ourselves of our secret purpose, and a recognition of our 
 perhaps long-shadowed, but now masterful, convictions. 
 
 A crisis of this kind occurred to Endymion the day when 
 he returned to his chambers, after having taken the oaths and 
 his seat in the House of Commons. He felt the necessity of 
 being alone. For nearly the last three months he had been the 
 excited actor in a strange and even mysterious drama. There 
 had been for him no time to reflect ; all he could aim at was to 
 comprehend, and if possible control, the present and urgent 
 contingency ; he had been called upon almost unceasingly, to 
 do, or to say, something sudden and unexpected ; and it was 
 only now, when the crest of the ascent had been reached, that 
 he could look around him and consider the new world opening 
 to his gaze. 
 
 The greatest opportunity that can be offered to an English- 
 man was now his — a seat in the House of Commons. It was 
 his almost in the first bloom of youth, and yet after advanta- 
 geous years of labor and political training, and it was combined 
 with a material independence on which he never could have 
 counted. A love of power, a passion for distinction, a noble 
 pride, which had been native to his early disposition, but which 
 had apparently been crushed by the enormous sorrows and mis- 
 fortunes of his childhood, and which had vanished, as it were, 
 before the sweetness of that domestic love which had been the 
 solace of his adversity, now again stirred their dim and mighty 
 forms in his renovated, and, as it were, inspired consciousness. 
 "If this has happened at twenty-two," thought Endymion, 
 ''what may not occur if the average life of man be allotted to 
 me ? At any rate, I will never think of anything else. I have 
 
AT PARIS. 333 
 
 a purpose in life^ and I will fulfill it. It is a charm that its 
 accomplishment would be the most grateful result to the two 
 bemgs I most love in the world." 
 
 So when Lady Montfort shortly after opened her views to 
 Endymion as to his visiting Paris, and his purpose in so doing, 
 the seeds were thrown on a willing soil, and he embraced her 
 counsels with the deepest interest. His intimacy with the 
 Count of Ferroll was the completing event of this epoch of his 
 life. 
 
 Their acquaintance had been slight in England, for after 
 the Montfort Tournament the count had been appointed to 
 Paris, where he was required ; but he received Endymion with 
 a cordiality which contrasted with his usual demeanor, which, 
 though frank, was somewhat cynical. 
 
 "This is not a favorable time to visit Paris," he said, "so 
 far as society is concerned. There is some business stirring in 
 the diplomatic world, which has reassembled the fraternity for 
 the moment, and the King is at St. Cloud, but you may make 
 some acquaintances which may be desirable, and at any rate 
 look about you and clear the ground for the coming season. I 
 do not despair of our dear friend coming over in the winter. 
 It is one of the hopes that keep me alive. What a woman ! 
 You may count yourself fortunate in having such a friend. I 
 do. I am not particularly fond of female society. Women chat- 
 ter too much. But I prefer the society of a first-rate woman to 
 that of any man ; and Lady Montfort is a first-rate woman — I 
 think the greatest since Louise of Savoy ; infinitely beyond the 
 Princesse d'Ursins." 
 
 The "business that was then stirring in the diplomatic 
 world," at a season when the pleasures of Parisian society 
 could not distract him, gave Endymion a rare opportunity of 
 studying that singular class of human beings which is accus- 
 tomed to consider states and nations as individuals, and specu- 
 late on their quarrels and misunderstandings, and the reme- 
 dies which they require, in a tongue peculiar to themselves, 
 and in language which often conveys a meaning exactly opposite 
 to that which it seems to express. Diplomacy is hospitable, and 
 a young Englishman of graceful mien, well introduced, and a 
 
334 ENDYMIOK 
 
 member of the House of Commons, that awful assembly which 
 produces those dreaded blue books which strike terror in the 
 boldest of foreign statesmen — was not only received, but court- 
 ed, in the interesting circle in which Endymion found himself. 
 
 There he encountered men gray with the fame and wisdom 
 of half a century of deep and lofty action, men who had strug- 
 gled with the first Napoleon, and had sate in the Congress of 
 Vienna ; others, hardly less celebrated, who had been suddenly 
 borne to high places by the revolutionary wave of 1830, and 
 who had justly retained their exalted posts when so many com- 
 petitors with an equal chance, had long ago, with equal justice, 
 subsided into the obscurity from which they ought never to 
 have emerged. Around these chief personages were others not 
 less distinguished by their abilities, but a more youthful gener- 
 ation, who knew how to wait, and were always prepared or 
 preparing for the inevitable occasion when it arrived — fine and 
 trained writers, who could interpret in sentences of graceful 
 adroitness, the views of their chiefs ; or sages in precedents, 
 walking dictionaries of diplomacy, and masters of every treaty ; 
 and private secretaries reading human nature at a glance, and 
 collecting every shade of opinion for the use and guidance o; 
 their principals. 
 
 Whatever their controversies in the morning, their critical 
 interviews and their secret alliances, all were smiles and grace- 
 ful badinage at the banquet and the reception ; as if they had 
 only come to Paris to show their brilliant uniforms, their 
 golden fleeces and their grand crosses, and their broad ribbons 
 with more tints than the Iris. 
 
 " I will not give them ten years," said the Count of Ferroll 
 lighting his cigarette, and addressing Endymion on their re- 
 turn from one of these assemblies ; ** I sometimes think hardly 
 five." 
 
 " But where will the blow come from ? " 
 
 '* Here ; there is no movement in Europe except in France, 
 and here it will always be a movement of subversion." 
 
 " A pretty prospect ! " 
 
 "The sooner you realize it the better. The system here 
 is supported by journalists and bankers ; two influential classes. 
 
A VALUABLE FRIEND. 335 
 
 but the millions care for neither ; rather, I should say, dislike 
 both." 
 
 " Will the change affect Europe ?" 
 
 *' Inevitably. You rightly say Europe, for that is a geo- 
 graphical expression. There is no State in Europe ; I exclude 
 your own country, which belongs to every division of the globe, 
 and is fast becoming more commercial than political, and I ex- 
 clude Eussia, for she is essentially oriental, and her future will 
 be entirely the East." 
 
 " But there is Germany ! " 
 
 "Where ? I can not find it on the maps. Germany is di- 
 vided into various districts, and when there is a war, they are 
 ranged on different sides. Notwithstanding our reviews and 
 annual encampments, Germany is practically as weak as Italy. 
 We have some kingdoms who are allowed to play at being first- 
 rate powers ; but it is mere play. They no more command 
 events than the King of Naples or the Duke of Modena." 
 
 "Then is France periodically to overrun Europe ?" 
 
 " So long as it continues to be merely Europe." 
 
 A close intimacy occurred between Endymion and the 
 Count of Ferroll. He not only became a permanent guest at 
 the official residence, but when the Conference broke up, the 
 count invited Endymion to be his companion to some celebrated 
 baths, where they would meet not only many of his late dis- 
 tinguished colleagues, but their imperial and royal masters, 
 seeking alike health and relaxation at this famous rendezvous. 
 
 " You will find it of the first importance in public life," 
 said the Count of Ferroll, "to know personally those who are 
 carrying on the business of the world, so much depends on the 
 character of an individual, his habits of thought, his prejudices, 
 his superstitions, his social weaknesses, his health. Conduct- 
 ing affairs without this advantage is, in effect, an affair of sta- 
 tionery ; it is pens and paper who are in communication, not 
 human beings." 
 
 The brother-in-law of Lord Roehampton was a sort of per- 
 sonage. It was very true that distinguished man was no longer 
 minister, but he had been minister for a long time, and had 
 left a great name. Foreigners rarely know more than one 
 
336 ENDYMION, 
 
 English minister at a time, but they compensate for their igno- 
 rance of the aggregate body by even exaggerating the quali- 
 ties of the individual with whom they are acquainted. Lord 
 Roehampton had conducted the affairs of his country always 
 in a courteous, but still in a somewhat haughty spirit. He was 
 easy and obliging, and conciliatory in little matters, but where 
 the credit, or honor, or large interests of England were con- 
 cerned, he acted with conscious authority. On the continent 
 of Europe, though he sometimes incurred the depreciation of 
 the smaller minds, whose self-love he may not have sufficiently 
 spared, by the higher spirits he was feared and admired, and 
 they knew when he gave his whole soul to an affair, that they 
 were dealing with a master. 
 
 Endymion was presented to emperors and kings, and he 
 made his way with these exalted personages. He found them 
 different from what he had expected. He was struck by their 
 intimate acquaintance with affairs, and by the serenity of their 
 judgment. The life was a pleasant as well as an interesting 
 one. Where there are crowned heads, there are always some 
 charming women. Endymion found himself in a delightful 
 circle. Long days and early hours, and a beautiful country, 
 renovate the spirit as well as the physical frame. Excursions 
 to romantic forests, and visits to picturesque ruins, in the noon 
 of summer, are enchanting, especially with princesses for your 
 companions, bright and accomplished. Yet, notwithstanding 
 some distractions, Endymion never omitted writing to Lady 
 Montfort every day. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIIL 
 
 The season at Paris which commenced toward the end of 
 the year was a lively one, and especially interesting to Endym- 
 ion, who met there a great many of his friends. After his 
 visit to the baths he had traveled alone for a few weeks, and 
 saw some famous places of which he had long heard. A poet 
 was then sitting on the throne of Bavaria, and was realizing 
 his dreams in the creation of an ideal capital. The Black For- 
 
CEOOSISG A PRESENT. 337 
 
 est is a land of romance. He saw Walhalla, too, crowning the 
 Danube with the genius of Germany, as mighty as the stream 
 itself. Pleasant it is to wander among the quaint cities here 
 clustering together : Nuremberg with all its ancient art, im- 
 perial Augsburg, and Wurtzburg with its priestly palace, be- 
 yond the splendor of many kings. A summer in Suabia is a 
 great joy. 
 
 But what a contrast to the Eue de la Paix, bright and viva- 
 cious, in which he now finds himself, and the companion of the 
 Neuchatel family. Endymion had only returned to Paris the 
 previous evening, and the Neuchatels had preceded him by a 
 week ; so they had seen everybody and could tell him every- 
 thing. Lord and Lady Beaumaris were there, and Mrs. Rod- 
 ney their companion, her husband detained in London by some 
 mysterious business ; it was thought a seat in Parliament, which 
 Mr. Tadpole had persuaded him might be secured on a vacancy 
 occasioned by a successful petition. They had seen the Count 
 of Ferroll, who was going to dine with them that day, and 
 Endymion was invited to meet him. It was Adriana's first 
 visit to Paris, and she seemed delighted with it ; but Mrs. 
 Neuchatel preferred the gay capital when it was out of season. 
 Mr. Neuchatel himself was always in high spirits — sanguine 
 and self-satisfied. He was an Orleanist, had always been so, 
 and sympathized with the apparently complete triumph of his 
 principles — "real liberal principles, no nonsense; there was 
 more gold in the Bank of France than in any similar establish- 
 ment in Europe. After all, wealth is the test of the welfare of 
 a people, and the test of wealth is the command of the precious 
 metals. Eh ! Mr. Member of Parliament ? " And his eye 
 flashed fire, and he seemed to smack his lips at the very thought 
 and mention of these delicious circumstances. 
 
 They were in a jeweler's shop, and Mrs. Neuchatel was 
 choosing a trinket for a wedding present. She seemed in- 
 finitely distressed. *' What (lo you think of this, Adriana ? 
 It is simple and in good taste. I should like it for myself, 
 and yet I fear it might not be thought fine enough." 
 
 **This is pretty, mamma, and new," and she held before 
 her mother a bracelet of much splendor. 
 
gS8 ENDTMIOK j 
 
 ! 
 
 *' Oh ! no, that will never do, dear Adriana, they will gay j 
 we are purse-proud." ' i 
 
 " I am afraid they will always say that, mamma," and she i 
 sighed. j 
 
 *'It is a long time since we all separated," said Endymion 
 to Adriana. 
 
 " Months I Mr. Sidney Wilton said you were the first 
 runaway. I think you were quite right. Your new life now 
 will be fresh to you. If you had remained, it would only have 
 been associated with defeat and discomfiture." 
 
 " I am so happy to be in Parliament, that I do not think I 
 could ever associate such a life with discomfiture." 
 
 ** Does it make you very happy ? " said Adriana, looking at 
 him rather earnestly. 
 
 "Very happy." 
 
 "I am glad of that." 
 
 The Neuchatels had a house at Paris — one of the fine hotels 
 of the First Empire. It was inhabited generally by one of the 
 nephews, but it was always ready to receive them with every 
 luxury and every comfort. But Mrs. Neuchatel herself par- 
 ticularly disliked Paris, and she rarely accompanied her hus- 
 band in his frequent but brief visits to the gay city. She had 
 yielded on this occasion to the wish of Adriana, whom she had 
 endeavored to bring up in a wholesome prejudice against French 
 taste and fashions. 
 
 The dinner to-day was exquisite, in a chamber of many- 
 colored marbles, and where there was no marble there was 
 gold, and when the banquet was over, they repaired to saloons 
 hung with satin of a delicate tint, which exhibited to perfec- 
 tion a choice collection of Greuse and Vanloo. Mr. Sidney 
 Wilton dined there as well as the Count of Ferroll, some of tlie 
 French ministers, and two or three illustrious Orleanist celeb- 
 rities of literature, who acknowledged and emulated the match- 
 less conversational powers of Mrs. Neuchatel. Lord and Lady 
 Beaumaris and Mrs. Rodney completed the party. 
 
 Sylvia was really peerless. She was by birth half a French- 
 woman, and she compensated for her deficiency in the other 
 moiety, by a series of exquisite costumes, in which she mingled 
 
ElsDYMION'S DISCREETNESS. 339 
 
 with the spell-born fashion of France her own singular genius 
 in dress. She spoke not much, but looked prettier than ever ; 
 a little haughty, and now and then faintly smiling. AVhat was 
 most remarkable about her was her convenient and complete 
 want of memory. Sylvia had no past. She could not have 
 found her way to Warwick Street to save her life. She con- 
 versed with Endymion with ease and not without gratification, 
 but from all she said, you might have supposed that they had 
 been born in the same sphere, and always lived in the same 
 sphere, that sphere being one peopled by duchesses and count- 
 esses and gentlemen of fashion and ministers of state. 
 
 Lady Beaumaris was different from her sister almost in all 
 respects, except in beauty, though her beauty even was of a 
 higher style than that of Mrs. Rodney. Imogene was quite 
 natural, though refined. She had a fine disposition. All her 
 impulses were good and naturally noble. She had a greater 
 intellectual range than Sylvia, and was much more cultivated. 
 This she owed to her friendship with Mr. Waldershare, who 
 was entirely devoted to her, and whose main object in life was 
 to make everything contribute to her greatness. '^I hope he 
 will come here next week," she said to Endymion. '• I heard 
 from him to-day. He is at Venice. And he gives me such 
 lovely descriptions of that city, that I shall never rest till I 
 have seen it and glided in a gondola." 
 
 "Well, that you can easily do." 
 
 '* Not so easily. It will never do to interfere with my lord's 
 hunting — and when hunting is over there is always something 
 else — Newmarket, or the House of Lords, or rook-shooting." 
 
 "I must say there is something delightful about Paris, 
 which you meet nowhere else," said Mr. Sidney Wilton to En- 
 dymion. " For my part, it has the same effect on me as a 
 bottle of champagne. When I think of what we were doing 
 this time last year — those dreadful November cabinets — I shud- 
 der ! By the bye, the Count of Ferroll says there is a chance 
 of Lady Montf ort coming here ; have you heard anything ? " 
 
 Endymion knew all about it, but he was too discreet even 
 to pretend to exclusive information on that head. He thought 
 it might be true, but supposed it depended on my lord. 
 
340 ENDYMION. 
 
 " Oh ! Montfort will never come. He will bolt at the last 
 moment when the hall is full of packages. Their very sight 
 will frighten him, and he will steal down to Princedown and 
 read 'Don Quixote.'" 
 
 Sidney Wilton was quite right. Lady Montfort arrived 
 without her lord. " He threw me over almost as we were get- 
 ting into the carriage, and I had quite given it up when dear 
 Lady Roehampton came to my rescue. She wanted to see her ■ 
 brother, and — here we are." 
 
 The arrival of these two great ladies gave a stimulant to 
 gayeties which were already excessive. The court and the 
 ministers rivaled the balls and the banquets which were pro- 
 fusely offered by the ambassadors and bankers. Even the 
 great faubourg relaxed, and its halls of high ceremony and 
 mysterious splendor were opened to those who in London had 
 extended to many of their order a graceful and abounding hos- 
 pitality. It was with difficulty, however, that they persuaded 
 Lady Montfort to honor with her presence the embassy of her 
 own court. 
 
 ** I dined with those people once," she said to Endymion, 
 " but I confess when I thought of those dear Granvilles, their 
 entrees stuck in my throat." 
 
 There was, however, no lack of diplomatic banquets for the 
 successor of Louise of Savoy. The splendid hotel of the Count 
 of Ferroll was the scene of festivals not to be exceeded in Paris, 
 and all in honor of this wondrous dame. Sometimes they were 
 feasts, sometimes they were balls, sometimes they were little 
 dinners, consummate and select, sometimes large receptions, 
 multifarious and amusing. Her pleasure was asked every 
 mom, and, whenever she was disengaged, she issued orders to 
 his devoted household. His boxes at opera or play were at lier 
 constant disposal ; his carriages were at her command, and she 
 rode, in his society, the most beautiful horses in Paris. 
 
 The Count of Ferroll had wished that both ladies should 
 have taken up their residence at his mansion. 
 
 "But I think we had better not," said Lady Montfort to 
 Myra. "After all, there is nothing like *my crust of bread 
 and liberty,' and so I think we had better stay at the Bristol." 
 
''MASTER OF TEE SITUATION:' 341 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 
 "Go and talk to Adriana," said Lady Roehampton to her 
 brother. **It seems to me you never speak to her." 
 
 Endymion looked a little confused. 
 
 " Lady Montfort has plenty of friends here," his sister con- 
 tinued. *^ You are not wanted, and you should always remem- 
 ber those who have been our earliest and kindest friends." 
 
 There was something in Lady Roehampton's words and 
 look which rather jarred upon him. Anything like reproach 
 or dissatisfaction from those lips and from that countenance, 
 sometimes a little anxious but always affectionate, not to say 
 adoring, confused and even agitated him. . He was tempted to 
 reply, but, exercising successfully the self-control which was 
 the result rather of his life than of his nature, he said nothing, 
 and, in obedience to the intimation, immediately aj)proached 
 Miss Neuchatel. 
 
 About this time Waldershare arrived at Paris, full of mag- 
 nificent dreams which he called plans. He was delighted with 
 his office ; it was much the most important in the government, 
 and more important because it was not in the cabinet. Well 
 managed, it was power without responsibility. He explained 
 to Lady Beaumaris that an Under-Secretary of State for For- 
 eign Affairs, with his chief in the House of Lords, was " mas- 
 ter of the situation." What the situation was, and what the 
 under-secretary was to master, he did not yet deign to inform 
 Imogene ; but her trust in Waldershare was implicit, and she 
 repeated to Lord Beaumaris, and- to Mrs. Rodney, with an air 
 of mysterious self-complacency, that Mr. Waldershare was 
 *' master of the situation. " Mrs. Rodney fancied that this was 
 tlie correct and fashionable title of an under-secretary of state. 
 Mr. Waldershare was going to make a collection of portraits of 
 Under-Secretaries for Foreign Affairs whose chiefs had been in 
 the House of Lords. It would be a collection of the most 
 eminent statesmen that England had ever produced. For the 
 rest, during his Italian tour, Waldershare seemed to have con- 
 ducted himself with distinguished discretion, and had been 
 
342 ENDYMIOX, 
 
 careful not to solicit an audience of the Duke of Modena in 
 order to renew his oath of allegiance. 
 
 When Lady Montfort successfully tempted Lady Roehamp- 
 ton to be her traveling companion to Paris, the contemplated 
 visit was to have been a short one — **a week, perhaps ten days 
 at the outside." The outside had been not inconsiderably 
 passed, and yet the beautiful Berengaria showed no disposition 
 of returning to England. Myra was uneasy at her own pro- 
 tracted absence from her lord, and having made a last but 
 fruitless effort to induce Lady Montfort to accompany her, she 
 said one day to Endymion, "I think I must ask you to take 
 me back. And indeed you ought to be with my lord some 
 little i;ime before the meeting of Parliament." 
 
 Endymion was really of the same opinion, though he was 
 conscious of the social difficulty which he should have to en- 
 counter in order to effect his purpose. Occasionally a states- 
 man in opposition is assisted by the same private secretary who 
 was his confidant when in office ; but this is not always the 
 case — ^perhaps not even generally. In the present instance, 
 the principal of Lord Roehampton's several secretaries had 
 been selected from the permanent clerks in the Foreign Office 
 itself, and therefore when his chief retired from his official 
 duties, the private secretary resumed his previous post, an act 
 which necessarily terminated all relations between himself and 
 the late minister, save those of private, though often still inti- 
 mate acquaintance. 
 
 Now one of the great objects of Lady Roehampton for a 
 long time had been, that her brother should occupy a confiden- 
 tial position near her husband. The desire had originally been 
 shared, and even warmly, by Lady Montfort ; but the unex- 
 pected entrance of Endymion into the House of Commons had 
 raised a technical difficulty in this respect which seemed to 
 terminate the cherished prospect. Myra, however, was resolved 
 not to regard these technical difficulties, and was determined 
 to establish at once the intimate relations she desired between 
 her husband and her brother. This purpose had been one of 
 the principal causes which had induced her to accompany Lady 
 Montfort to Paris. She wanted to see Endymion, to see what 
 
LADY MONTFORrS OPINION. 3^3 
 
 he was about, and to prepare him for the future which she 
 contemplated. 
 
 The view which Lady Montfort took of these matters was 
 very different from that of Lady Eoehampton. Lady Mont- 
 fort was in her riding habit, leaning back in an easy chair, 
 with her whip in one hand and the ** Charivari " in the other, 
 and she said, " Are you not going to ride to-day, Endymion ? " 
 
 **I think not. I wanted to talk to you a little about my 
 plans, Lady Montfort." 
 
 " Your plans ! Why should you have any plans ? " 
 
 *^ Well, Lady Eoehampton is about to return to England, 
 and she proposes I should go with her." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 And then Endymion entered into the whole case, the de- 
 sirableness of being with Lord Eoehampton before the meeting 
 of Parliament, of assisting him, working with him, acting for 
 him, and all the other expedient circumstances of the situation. 
 
 Lady Montfort said nothing. Being of an eager nature, it 
 was rather her habit to interrupt those who addressed her, es- 
 pecially on matters she deemed disagreeable. Her husband 
 used to say, *^ Berengaria is a charming companion, but if she 
 would only listen a little more, she would have so much more 
 to tell me." On the present occasion, Endymion had no rea- 
 son to complain that he had not a fair opportunity of stating 
 his views and wishes. She was quite silent, changed color 
 occasionally, bit her beautiful lip, and gently but constantly 
 lashed her beautiful riding habit. When he paused, she in- 
 quired if ho had done, and he assenting, she said, " I think 
 the whole thing preposterous. What can Lord Eoehampton 
 have to do before the meeting of Parliament ? He has not got 
 to write the Queen's speech. The only use of being in opposi- 
 tion is that we may enjoy ourselves. The best thing that Lord 
 Eoehampton and all his friends can do is to travel for a couple 
 of years. Ask the Count of FerroU what he thinks of the situ- 
 ation, lie will tell you that he never knew one more hopeless. 
 Taxes and tariffs — that's the future of England, and, so far as 
 I can see, it may go on for ever. The government here desires 
 nothing better than what they call Peace. What they mean 
 
344 ENDYMION. 
 
 by peace is agiotage, shares at a premium, and bubble com- 
 panies. The whole thing is corrupt, as it ever must be when 
 government is in the hands of a mere middle class, and that, 
 too, a limited one ; but it may last hopelessly long, and in the 
 mean time, * Vive la bagatelle ! ' " 
 
 "These are very different views from those which, I had 
 understood, were to guide us in opposition," said Endymion, 
 amazed. 
 
 "There is no opposition," rejoined Lady Montfort, some- 
 what tartly. "For a real opposition there must be a great 
 policy. If your friend. Lord Eoehampton, when he was settling 
 the Levant, had only seized upon Egypt, we should have been 
 somewhere. Now, we are the party who wanted to give, 
 not even cheap bread to the people, but only cheaper bread. 
 Faugh!" 
 
 " Well, I do not think the occupation of Egypt in the pres- 
 ent state of our finances — " 
 
 " Do not talk to me about * the present state of our finances.' 
 You are worse than Mr. Sidney Wilton. The Count of FerroU 
 says that a ministry which is upset by its finances must be essen- 
 tially imbecile. And that, too, in England — the richest country 
 in the world ! " 
 
 "Well, I think the state of the finances had something to 
 do with the French Revolution," observed Endymion quietly. 
 
 " The French Revolution ! You might as well talk of the 
 fall of the Roman Empire. The French Revolution was founded 
 on nonsense — on the rights of man ; when all sensible people 
 in every country are now agreed, that man has no rights what- 
 ever." 
 
 " But, dearest Lady Montfort," said Endymion, in a some- 
 what deprecating tone, " about my returning ; for that is the 
 real subject on which I wished to trouble you." 
 
 "You have made up your mind to return," she replied. 
 "What is the use of consulting me with a foregone conclusion ? 
 I suppose you think it a compliment." 
 
 "I should be very sorry to do anything without consulting 
 you," said Endymion. 
 
 "The worst person in the world to consult," said Lady 
 
READY TO DEPART. 345 
 
 Montfort impatiently. "If you want advice, you had better 
 go to your sister. Men who are guided by their sisters seldom 
 make very great mistakes. They are generally so prudent ; 
 and, I must say, I think a prudent man quite detestable." 
 
 Endymion turned pale, his lip quivered, what might have 
 been the winged words they sent forth it is now impossible to 
 record, for at that moment the door opened, and the servant 
 announced that her ladyship's horse was at the door. Lad^ 
 Montfort jumped up quickly, and saying, ** Well, I suppose I 
 shall see you before you go," disappeared. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. 
 
 In the mean time. Lady Roehampton was paying her fare- 
 well visit to her former pupil. They were alone, and Adriana 
 was hanging on her neck and weeping. 
 
 "We were so happy," she murmured. 
 
 "And are so happy, and will be," said Myra. 
 
 "I feel I shall never be happy again," sighed Adriana. 
 
 " You deserve to be the happiest of human beings, and you 
 will be." 
 
 "Never, never !" 
 
 Lady Roehampton could say no more ; she pressed her 
 friend to her heart, and left the room in silence. 
 
 When she arrived at her hotel, her brother was leaving the 
 house. His countenance was disquieted ; he did not greet her 
 with that mantling sunniness of aspect which was natural to 
 him when they met. 
 
 "I have made all my farewells," she said, "and how have 
 you been getting on ? " And she invited him to reenter the 
 hotel. 
 
 "I am ready to depart at this moment," he said, somewhat 
 fiercely, "and was only thinking how I could extricate myself 
 from that horrible dinner to-day at the Count of Ferroll's." 
 
 "Well, that is not dilBicult," said Myra, "you can write a 
 note here, if you like, at once. I think you lyiust have seen 
 q-aitc enough of the Count of Ferroll and his friends." 
 
346 END Y MI OK 
 
 Endjmion sat down at the table and announced his intended 
 non-appearance at the count's dinner, for it could not be called 
 an excuse. When he had finished, his sister said : 
 
 " Do you know, we were nearly having a traveling compan- 
 ion to-morrow ? " 
 
 He looked up with a blush, for he fancied she was alluding 
 to some previous scheme of Lady Montf ort. "Indeed I" he 
 said, '*and who ?" 
 
 " Adriana." 
 
 " Adriana ! " he repeated, somewhat relieved ; " would she 
 leave her family ? " 
 
 " She had a fancy, and I am sure I do not know any com- 
 panion I could prefer to her. She is the only person of whom 
 I could truly say, that every time I see her I love her more." 
 
 " She seemed to like Paris very much," said Endymion, a 
 little embarrassed. 
 
 *' The first part of her visit," said Lady Roehampton, " slie 
 liked it amazingly. But my arrival and Lady Montfort's, I 
 fear, broke up their little parties. You were a great deal witli 
 the Neuchatels before we came ? " 
 
 "They are such a good family," said Endymion, "so kind, 
 so hospitable, such true friends. And Mr. Neuchatel himself 
 is one of the shrewdest men that probably ever lived. I like 
 talking with him, or, rather, I like to hear him talk." 
 
 " Oh, Endymion," said Lady Roehampton, "if you were tO; 
 marry Adriana, my happiness would be complete." 
 
 "Adriana will never marry," said Endymion; "she is 
 afraid of beiug married for her money. I know twenty men 
 who would marry her if they thought there was a chance of 
 being accepted ; and the best man, Eusford, did make her an 
 offer — that I know. And where could she find a match more 
 suitable ? — high rank, and large estate, and a man that every- 
 body speaks well of." 
 
 "Adriana will never marry, except for the affections ; there 
 you are right, Endymion. She must love and she must be 
 loved ; but that is not very unreasonable in a person who is 
 young, pretty, accomplished, and intelligent." 
 
 " She is all that," said Endymion, moodily. 
 
NO HESITATION, 347 
 
 *' And she loves you," said Lady Roehampton. 
 Endymion rather started, looked up for a moment at his 
 sister, and then withdrew as hastily an agitated glance, and 
 then with his eyes on the ground said, in a voice half murmur- 
 ing and yet scofiingly : *' I should like to see Mr. Neuchatel's 
 face were I to ask permission to marry his daughter. I sup- 
 pose he would not kick m^e down stairs ; that is out of fashion ; 
 but he certainly would never ask me to dinner again, and that 
 would be a sacrifice." 
 
 "You jest, Endymion ; I am not jesting." 
 ** There are some matters that can only be treated as a jest, 
 and my marriage with Miss Neuchatel is one." 
 
 *'It would make you one of the most powerful men in 
 England," said his sister. 
 
 '* Other impossible events would do the same." 
 "It is not impossible, it is very possible," said his sister, 
 "believe me, trust in me. The happiness of their daughter is 
 more precious to the Neuchatels even than their fortune." 
 
 " I do not see why, at my age, I should be in such a hurry 
 to marry," said Endymion. 
 
 " You can not marry too soon, if by so doing you obtain the 
 great object of life. Early marriages are to be deprecated, es- 
 pecially for men, because they are too frequently imprudent ; 
 but when a man can marry while he is young, and at once re- 
 alize, by so doing, all the results which successful time may 
 bring to him, he should not hesitate." 
 
 "I hesitate very much," said Endymion. "I should hesi- 
 tate very much, even if affairs were as promising as I think you 
 may erroneously assume." 
 
 *' But you must not hesitate, Endymion. We must never 
 forget the great object for which we two live, for which I believe, 
 we were born twins — to rebuild our house ; to raise it from pov- 
 erty, and ignominy, and misery and squalid shame, to the rank 
 and position which we demand and which we believe we deserve. 
 Did I hesitate when an offer of marriage was made to me, and 
 the most unexpected that could have occurred ? True it is, I 
 married the best and greatest of men, but I did not know that 
 when I accepted his hand. I married him for your sake, I mar- 
 
348 ENDYMIOK 
 
 ried him for my own sake, for the sake of the house of Ferrars, 
 which I wished to release and raise from its pit of desolation. 
 I married him to secure for us both that opportunity for our 
 qualities which they had lost, and which I believed, if enjoyed, 
 would render us powerful and great." 
 
 Endymion rose from his seat and kissed his sister. *' So 
 long as you live," he said, " we shall never be ignominious." 
 
 " Yes, but I am nothing ; I am not a man, I am not a Fer- 
 rars. The best of me is that I may be a transient help to you. 
 It is you who must do the deed. I am wearied of hearing you 
 described as Lady Roehampton's brother, or Lord Roehampton's 
 brother-in-law. I shall never be content till you are greater 
 than we are, and there is but only one and one immediate way 
 of accomplishing it ; it is by this marriage— and a marriage with 
 whom ? with an angelic being ! " 
 
 ** You take me somewhat by surprise, Myra. My thoughts 
 have not been upon this matter. I can not fairly describe my- 
 self at this moment as a marrying man." 
 
 ** I know what you mean. You have female friendships and 
 I approve of them. They are invaluable to youth, and you have 
 been greatly favored in this respect. They have been a great 
 assistance to you ; beware lest they become a hindrance. A few 
 years of such feelings in a woman's life are a blazoned page, 
 and when it is turned she has many other chapters though they 
 may not be as brilliant or adorned. But these few years in a 
 man's life may be, and in your case certainly would be, the very 
 marrow of his destiny. During the last five or six years, ever 
 since our emancipation, there has been a gradual but continuous 
 development in your life. All has been preparatory for a posi- 
 tion which you have acquired. That position may lead to any- 
 thing — in your case, I will still believe, to everything — ^but there 
 must be no faltering. Having crossed the Alps, you must not 
 find a Capua. I speak to you as I have not spoken to you of 
 late, because it was not necessary. But here is an opportunity 
 which must not be lost. I feel half inspired, as when we part- 
 ed in our misery at Hurstley, and I bade you, poor and obscure, 
 go forth and conquer the world." 
 
 Late on the night of the day, their last day at Paris, on 
 
''OUR OWN EEPORTEB:' 349 
 
 vrhich this conversation took place, Endymion received a note 
 in a well-known handwriting, and it ran thus : 
 
 *' If it be any satisfaction to you to know that you made 
 me very unhappy by not dining here to-day, you may be grati- 
 fied. I am very unhappy. I know that I was unkind this 
 morning, and rude, but as my anger was occasioned by your 
 leaving me, my conduct might annoy but surely could not 
 mortify you. I shall see you to-morrow, however early you 
 may depart, as I can not let your dear sister leave Paris without 
 my embracing her. 
 
 ** Your faithful friend, 
 
 " Berekgakia." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVI. 
 
 In" old days, it was the habit to think and say that the 
 House of Commons was an essentially ** queer place," which 
 no one could understand until he was a member of it. It may, 
 perhaps, be doubted whether that somewhat mysterious quality 
 still altogether attaches to that assembly. " Our own Report- 
 er " has invaded it in all its purlieus. No longer content with 
 giving an account of the speeches of its members, he is not 
 satisfied unless he describes their persons, their dress, and their 
 characteristic mannerisms. He tells us how they dine, even 
 the wines and dishes which they favor, and follows them into 
 the very mysteries of their smoking-room. And yet there is 
 perhaps a certain fine sense of the feelings, and opinions, and 
 humors of this assembly, which can not be acquired by hasty 
 notions and necessarily superficial remarks, but must be the 
 result of long and patient observation, and of that quick sym- 
 pathy with human sentiment, in all its classes, which is in- 
 volved in the possession of that inestimable quality styled tact 
 
 When Endymion Ferrars first took his seat in the House of 
 Commons, it still fully possessed its character of enigmatic tra- 
 dition. It had been thought that this, in a great degree, would 
 have been dissipated by the Reform Act of 1832, which sud- 
 
350 ENDTMION, 
 
 denly introduced into the hallowed precinct a number of indi- 
 viduals whose education, manners, modes of thought, were dif- 
 ferent from those of the previous inhabitants, and in some 
 instances, and in some respects, quite contrary to them. But 
 this was not so. After a short time, it was observed 'that the 
 old material, though at first much less in quantity, had leavened 
 the new mass ; that the tone of the former house was imitated 
 and adopted, and that at the end of five years, about the time 
 Endymion was returned to Parliament, much of its serene, and 
 refined, and even classical character had been recovered. 
 
 For himself, he entered the chamber with a certain degree 
 of awe, which, with use, diminished, but never entirely disap- 
 peared. The scene was one over which his boyhood even had 
 long mused, and it was associated with all those traditions of 
 genius, eloquence, and power that charm and inspire youth. 
 His practical acquaintance with the forms and habits of the 
 House from his customary attendance on their debates as pri- 
 vate secretary to a cabinet minister, was of great advantage to 
 him, and restrained that excitement which dangerously accom- 
 panies us when we enter into a new life, and especially a life of 
 such deep and thrilling interests and such large proportions. 
 This result was also assisted by his knowledge, at least by sight, 
 of a large proportion of the old members, and by his personal 
 and sometimes intimate acquaintance with those of his own 
 party. There was much in his position, therefore, to soften 
 that awkward feeling of being a freshman, which is always 
 embarrassing. 
 
 He took his place on the second bench of the opposition 
 side of the house, and nearly behind Lord Roehampton. Mr. 
 Bertie Tremaine, whom Endymion encountered in the lobby 
 as he was escaping to dinner, highly disapproved of this step. 
 He had greeted Endymion with affable condescension. *' You 
 made your first mistake to-night, my dear Ferrars. You 
 should have taken your seat below the gangway and near me, 
 on the Mountain. You, like myself, are a man of the future. '' 
 
 "I am a member of the opposition. I do not suppose it 
 signifies much where I sit." 
 
 "On the contrary, it signifies everything. After this great 
 
TEE MOUNTAIN, 351 
 
 Tory reaction there is nothing to be done now by speeches, 
 and, in all probability, very little that can be effectually op- 
 posed. Much, therefore, depends upon where you sit. If you 
 sit on the Mountain, the public imagination will be attracted 
 to you, and when they are aggrieved, which they will be in 
 good time, the public passion, which is called opinion, will 
 look to you for representation. My advice to my friends now 
 is to sit together and say nothing, but to profess through the 
 press the most advanced opinions. We sit on the back bench 
 of the gangway, and call ourselves the Mountain." 
 
 Notwithstanding Mr. Bertie Tremaine's oracular revelations, 
 Endymion was very glad to find his old friend Trenchard gen- 
 erally his neighbor. He had a high opinion both of Trenchard 's 
 judgment and acquirements, and he liked the man. In time 
 they always managed to sit together. Job Thornberry took 
 his seat below the gangway, on the opposition side, and on 
 the floor of the House. Mr. Bertie Tremaine had sent his 
 brother, Mr. Tremaine Bertie, to look after this new star, 
 whom he was anxious should ascend the Mountain ; but Job 
 Thornberry wishing to know whether the Mountain were going 
 for ^' total and immediate," and not obtaining a sufficiently 
 distinct reply, declined the proffered intimation. Mr. Bertie 
 Tremaine, being a landed proprietor as well as leader of the 
 Mountain, was too much devoted to the rights of labor to sanc- 
 tion such middle-class madness. 
 
 *' Peel will have to do it," said Job. '^ You will see." 
 
 ''Peel now occupies the position of Xecker," said Mr. Ber- 
 tie Tremaine, ''and will make the same fiasco. Then you will 
 at last have a popular government. " 
 
 "And the rights of labor?" asked Job. "All I hope is, 
 I may have got safe to the States before that day." 
 
 "There will be no danger," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine. 
 "There is this difference between the English Mountain and 
 the French. The English Mountain has its government pre- 
 pared. And my brother spoke to you because, when the hour 
 arrives, I wished to see you a member of it. " 
 
 "My dear Endymion," said Waldershare, "let us dine to- 
 gether before we meet in mortal conflict, which I suppose will 
 
352 ENDYMION. 
 
 be soon. I really think your Mr. Bertie Trcmaine the most 
 absurd being out of Colney Hatch." 
 
 '* Well, he has a purpose," said Endymion ; "and they say 
 that a man with a purpose generally sees it realized." 
 
 "What I do like in him," said Waldershare, "is this re- 
 vival of the Pythagorean system, and leading a party of silence. 
 That is rich." 
 
 One of the most interesting members of the House of Com- 
 mons was Sir Fraunceys Scrope. He was the father of the 
 House, though it was difficult to believe that from his appear- 
 ance. He was tall, and had kept his distinguished figure ; a 
 handsome man, with a musical voice, and a countenance now 
 benignant, though very bright, and once haughty. He still re- 
 tained the same fashion of costume in which he had rode up to 
 Westminster more than half a century ago, from his seat in 
 Derbyshire, to support his dear friend Charles Fox ; real top- 
 boots, and a blue coat and buff waistcoat. He was a great friend 
 of Lord Eoehampton, had a large estate in the same county, 
 and had refused an earldom. Knowing Endymion, he came and 
 sat by him one day in the House, and asked him, good-natured- 
 ly, how he liked his new life. 
 
 "It is very different from what it was when I was your age. 
 Up to Easter we rarely had a regular debate, never a party divi- 
 sion ; very few people came up indeed. But there was a good 
 deal of speaking on all subjects before dinner. We had the priv- 
 ilege then of speaking on the presentation of petitions at any 
 length, and we seldom spoke on any other occasion. After East- 
 er there was always at least one great party fight. This was a 
 mighty affair, talked of for weeks before it came off, and then 
 rarely an adjourned debate. We were gentlemen, used to sit up 
 late, and should have been sitting up somewhere else had we not 
 been in the House of Commons. After this party fight, the 
 House for the rest of the session was a mere club." 
 
 " There was not much business doing then," said Endymion. 
 
 " There was not much business in the country then. The 
 House of Commons was very much like what the House of Lords 
 is now. You went home to dine, and now and then came back 
 for an important division." 
 
''TOPSY turvy:' 353 
 
 **But you must always have had the estimates here," said 
 Endymion. 
 
 " Yes, but they ran through very easily. Hume was the first 
 man who attacked the estimates. What are you going to do 
 with yourself to-day ? Will you take your mutton with me ? 
 You must come in boots, for it is now dinner-time, and you 
 must return, I fancy. Twenty years ago, no man would think 
 of coming down to the House except in eyening dress. I re- 
 member so late as Mr. Canning, the minister always came down 
 in silk stockings and pantaloons, or knee breeches. All things 
 change, and quoting Virgil, as that young gentleman has just 
 done, will be the next thing to disappear. In the last Parlia- 
 ment we often had Latin quotations, but never from a member 
 with a new constituency. I have heard Greek quoted here, but 
 that was long ago, and a great mistake. The House was quite 
 alarmed. Charles Fox used to say as to quotation — ' No Greek ; 
 as much Latin as you like ; and never French under any cir- 
 cumstances. No English poet unless he had completed his cen- 
 tury.' These were like some other good rules, the unwritten 
 orders of the House of Commons." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVII. 
 
 While parliaments were dissolving and ministries forming, 
 the disappointed Seeking consolation and the successful enjoy- 
 ing their triumph, Simon, Earl of Montfort, who just missed 
 being a great philosopher, was reading '^Topsy Turvy," which 
 infinitely amused him ; the style so picturesque and lambent ! 
 the tone so divertingly cynical ! And if the knowledge of so^ 
 ciety in its pages was not so distinguished as that of human 
 nature generally, this was a deficiency obvious only to a com- 
 paratively limited circle of its readers. 
 
 Lord Montfort had reminded Endymion of his promise to 
 introduce the distinguished author to him, and accordingly, 
 after due researches as to his dwelling-place, Mr. Ferrars called 
 in Jermyn Street and sent up his card, to know whether Mr. 
 
854 ENDYMION. 
 
 St. Barbe would receive him. This was evidently not a matier- 
 of-course affair, and some little time had elapsed when the 
 maid-servant reappeared, and beckoned to Endymion to fol- 
 low her up stairs. 
 
 In the front drawing-room of the first floor, robed in a 
 flaming dressing-gown, and standing with his back to the fire 
 and to the looking-glass, the frame of which was incrusted 
 with cards of invitation, the former colleague of Endymion 
 received his visitor with a somewhat haughty and reserved air. 
 
 "Well, I am delighted to see you again," said Endymion. 
 
 No reply but a ceremonious bow. 
 
 ** And to congratulate you," Endymion added after a mo- 
 ment's pause ; " I hear of nothing but of your book ; I sup- 
 pose one of the most successful that has appeared for a long 
 time." 
 
 *'Its success is not owing to your friends," said Mr. fet. 
 Barbe tartly. 
 
 ** My friends," said Endymion ; " what could they have 
 done to prevent it ? " 
 
 ** They need not have dissolved Parliament," said Mr. St. 
 Barbe with irritation. "It was nearly fatal to me ; it would 
 have been to anybody else. I was selling forty thousand a 
 month ; I believe more than Gushy ever reached ; and so they 
 dissolved Parliament. The sale went down half at once — and 
 now you expect me to support your party ! " 
 
 "Well, it was unfortunate, but the dissolution could hardly 
 have done you any permanent injury, and y(fu could scarcely 
 expect that such an event could be postponed even for the ad- 
 vantage of an individual so distinguished as yourself. " 
 
 "Perhaps not," said St. Barbe, apparently a little molli- 
 fied, "but they might have done something to show their re- 
 gret at it." 
 
 "Something !" said Endymion, "what sort of thing ?" 
 
 " The prime minister might have called on me, or at least, 
 have written to me a letter. I want none of their honors ; I 
 have scores of letters every day, suggesting that some high 
 distinction should be conferred on me. I believe the nation 
 expects me to be made a baronet. By the bye, I heard the 
 
TWO OLD FRIENDS. 355 
 
 other day you had got into Parliament ; I know nothing of 
 these matters ; they do not interest me ; is it the fact ? " 
 
 ''Well, I was so fortunate, and there are others of your old 
 friends, Trenchard for example." 
 
 ''You do not mean to say that Tren chard is in Parlia- 
 ment ! " said St. Barbe, throwing off all his affected reserve. 
 " Well, it is too disgusting ! Trenchard in Parliament, and I 
 obliged to think it a great favor if a man gives me a frank ! 
 Well, representative institutions have seen their day. That is 
 something." 
 
 "I have come here on a social mission," said Endymion in 
 a soothing tone. " There is a great admirer of yours who 
 much wishes to make your acquaintance. Trusting to our old 
 intimacy, of which of course I am very proud, it was even 
 hoped that you might waive ceremony, and come and dine." 
 
 "Quite impossible," exclaimed St. Barbe, and turning 
 round, he pointed to the legion of invitations before him. 
 "You see, the world is at my feet. I remember that fellow 
 Seymour Hicks taking me to his rooms to show me a card he 
 had from a countess. What would he say to this ? " 
 
 " Well, but you can not be engaged to dinner every day," 
 said Endymion ; " and you really may choose any day you 
 like." 
 
 "Well, there are not many dinners among them, to be 
 sure," said St. Barbe. " Small and earlies. How I hate a 
 'small and early!' Shown into a room where you meet a 
 select few who have been asked to dinner, and who are chew- 
 ing the cud like a herd of kine, and you are expected to tum- 
 ble before them to assist their digestion ! Faugh ! No, sir ; 
 we only dine out now, and we think twice, I can tell you, 
 before we accept even an invitation to dinner. Who's your 
 friend?" 
 
 "Well, my friend is Lord Montfort." 
 
 "You do not mean to say that ! And he is an admirer of 
 mine ?" 
 
 " An enthusiastic admirer." 
 
 "I will dine with Lord Montfort. There is no one who 
 appreciates so completely and so highly the old nobility of 
 
356 ENDTMIOK 
 
 England as myself. They are a real aristocracy. None of the 
 pinchbeck pedigrees and ormulu titles of the continent. Lord 
 Montfort is, I think, an earl. A splendid title, earl ! an Eng- 
 lish earl ; count goes for nothing. The Earl of Montfort ! 
 An enthusiastic admirer of mine. The aristocracy of Eng- 
 land, especially the old aristocracy, are highly cultivated. 
 Sympathy from such a class is to be valued. I care for 
 no other — I have always despised- the million of vulgar. 
 They have come to me, not I to them, and I have always 
 told them the truth about themselves, that they are a race 
 of snobs, and they rather like being told so. And now for 
 your day ? " 
 
 " Why not this day if you be free ? I will call for you 
 about eight, and take you in my brougham to Montfort 
 House." 
 
 *' You have got a brougham ! Well, I suppose so, being a 
 member of Parliament, though I know a good many members 
 of Parliament who have not got broughams. But your family, 
 I remember, married into the swells. I do not grudge it you. 
 You were always a good comrade to me. I never knew a man 
 more free from envy than you, Ferrars, and envy is an odious 
 vice. There are people I know, who when they hear I have 
 dined with the Earl of Montfort, will invent all sorts of stories 
 against me, and send them to what they call the journals of 
 society." 
 
 "Well, then, it shall be to-day," said Endymion, rising. 
 
 '*It shall be to-day, and to tell you the truth, I was think- 
 ing this morning where I should dine to-day. What I miss 
 here are the cafes. Now in Paris you can dine every day ex- 
 actly as it suits your means and mood. You may dine for a 
 couple of francs in a quiet unknown street, and very well, or 
 you may dine for a couple of napoleons in a flaming saloon, 
 with windows opening on a crowded boulevard. London is 
 deficient in dining capability." 
 
 *' You should belong to a club. Do you not ? " 
 
 " So I was told by a friend of mine the other day — one of 
 your great swells. He said I ought to belong to the Athe- 
 naeum, and he would propose me, and the committee would 
 
A BAD STATE OF AFFAIRS. 357 
 
 elect me as a matter of course. They rejected me and elected 
 a bishop. And then people are surprised that the Church is 
 in danger ! " 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVIII. 
 
 The condition of England at the meeting of Parliament in 
 1842 was not satisfactory. The depression of trade in the 
 manufacturing districts seemed overwhelming, and continued 
 increasing during the whole of the year. A memorial from 
 Stockport to the Queen in the spring represented that more 
 than half the master spinners had failed, and that no less than 
 three thousand dwelling-houses were untenanted. One fifth 
 of the population of Leeds were dependent on the poor-rates. 
 The state of Sheffield was not less severe — and the blast fur- 
 naces of "Wolverhampton were extinguished. There were al- 
 most daily meetings, at Liverpool, Manchester, and Leeds, to 
 consider the great and increasing distress of the country, and 
 to induce ministers to bring forward remedial measures ; but 
 as these were impossible, violence was soon substituted for pas- 
 sionate appeals to the fears or the humanity of the govern- 
 ment. Vast bodies of the population assembled in Stalybridge, 
 and Ashton, and Oldham, and marched into Manchester. 
 
 For a week the rioting was unchecked, but the govern- 
 ment dispatched a strong military force to that city, and order 
 was restored. 
 
 The state of affairs in Scotland was not more favorable. 
 There were food riots in several of the Scotch towns, and in 
 Glasgow the multitude assembled, and then commenced what 
 they called a begging tour, but which was really a progress of 
 not disguised intimidation. The economic crisis in Ireland was 
 yet to come, but the whole of that country was absorbed in a 
 harassing and dangerous agitation for the repeal of the union 
 between the two countries. 
 
 During all this time, the Anti-Corn-Law League was hold- 
 ing regular and frequent meetings at Manchester, at which 
 
358 ENDYMIOK 
 
 statements were made distinguished by great eloquence and 
 little scruple. But the able leaders of this confederacy never 
 succeeded in enlisting the sympathies of the great body of the 
 population. Between the masters and the workmen there was 
 an alienation of feeling, which apparently never could be re- 
 moved. This reserve, however, did not enlist the working 
 classes on the side of the government; they had their own 
 object, and one which they themselves enthusiastically cher- 
 ished. And this was the Charter, a political settlement which 
 was to restore the golden age, and which the master manufac- 
 turers and the middle classes generally looked upon with even 
 more apprehension than Her Majesty's advisers. It is hardly 
 necessary to add, that in a state of affairs like that which is 
 here faintly but still faithfully sketched, the rapid diminution 
 of the revenue was inevitable, and of course that decline main- 
 ly occurred in the two all-important branches of the customs 
 and excise. 
 
 There was another great misfortune also which at this try- 
 ing time hung over England. The country was dejected. 
 The humiliating disasters of Afghanistan, dark narratives of 
 which were periodically arriving, had produced a more depress- 
 ing effect on the spirit of the country than all the victories 
 and menaces of Napoleon in the heyday of his wild career. At 
 home and abroad, there seemed nothing to sustain the national 
 spirit ; financial embarrassment, commercial and manufacturing 
 distress, social and political agitation on the one hand, and on 
 the other, the loss of armies, of reputation, perhaps of empire. 
 It was true that these external misfortunes could hardly be 
 attributed to the new ministry — but when a nation is thor- 
 oughly perplexed and dispirited, they soon cease to make dis- 
 tinctions between political parties. The country is out of 
 sorts, and the ** government" is held answerable for the dis- 
 order. 
 
 Thus it will be seen, that, though the new ministry were 
 supported by a commanding majority in Parliament, and that, 
 too, after a recent appeal to the country, they were not popu- 
 lar ; it may be truly said they were even the reverse. The 
 opposition, on the contrary, notwithstanding their discomfiture. 
 
A NEW CHANNEL. 359 
 
 and, on some subjects, their disgrace, were by no means dis- 
 heartened, and believed that there were economical causes at 
 work, which must soon restore them to power. 
 
 The minister brought forward his revision of the tariff, 
 which was denounced by the League as futile, and in which 
 anathema the opposition soon found it convenient to agree. 
 Had the minister included in his measure that *^ total and im- 
 mediate repeal " of the existing corn laws which was preached 
 by many as a panacea, the effect would have been probably 
 much the same. No doubt a tariff may aggravate, or may 
 mitigate, such a condition of commercial depression as period- 
 ically visits a state of society like that of England, but it does 
 not produce it. It was produced in 1842, as it has been pro- 
 duced at the present time, by an abuse of capital and credit, 
 and by a degree of production which the wants of the world 
 have not warranted. 
 
 And yet all this time, there were certain influences at work 
 in the great body of the nation, neither foreseen, nor for some 
 time recognized, by statesmen and those great capitalists on 
 whose opinion statesmen much depend, which were stirring, as 
 it were, like the unconscious power of the forces of nature, and 
 which were destined to baffle all the calculations of persons in 
 authority and the leading spirits of all parties, strengthen a 
 perplexed administration, confound a sanguine opposition, 
 render all the rhetoric, statistics and subscriptions of the Anti- 
 Corn-Law League fruitless, and absolutely make the Chartists 
 forget the Charter. 
 
 '* My friends will not assist themselves by resisting the gov- 
 ernment measures," said Mr. Neuchatel, with his usual calm 
 smile, half skeptical, half sympathetic. " The measures will 
 do no good, but they will do no harm. There are no measures 
 that will do any good at this moment. We do not want meas- 
 ures ; what we want is a new channel." 
 
 That is exactly what was wanted. There was abundant 
 capital in the country and a mass of unemployed labor. But 
 the markets on which they had of late depended, the American 
 especially, were overworked and overstocked, and in some in- 
 stances were not only overstocked, but disturbed by war, as 
 
360 ENDYMION. 
 
 the Chinese, for example — ^and capital and labor wanted *'a 
 new channel." 
 
 The new channel came, and all the persons of authority, 
 alike political and commercial, seemed quite surprised that it 
 had arrived ; but when a thing or a man are wanted, they gen- 
 erally appear. One or two lines of railway, which had been 
 long sleepily in formation, about this time were finished, and 
 one or two lines of railway, which had been finished for some 
 time and were unnoticed, announced dividends and not con- 
 temptible ones. Suddenly there was a general feeling in the 
 country, that its capital should be invested in railways ; that 
 the whole surface of the land should be transformed, and cov- 
 ered, as by a network, with these mighty means of communica- 
 tion. When the passions of the English, naturally an enthu- 
 siastic people, are excited on a subject of finance, their will, 
 their determination, and resource, are irresistible. This was 
 signally proved in the present instance, for they never ceased 
 subscribing their capital until the sum intrusted to this new 
 form of investment reached an amount almost equal to the na- 
 tional debt ; and this too in a very few years. The immediate 
 effect on the condition of the country was absolutely prodigious. 
 The value of land rose, all the blast furnaces were relit, a stim- 
 ulant was given to every branch of the home trade, the amount 
 suddenly paid in wages exceeded that ever known in this coun- 
 try, and wages too at a high rate. Large portions of the labor- 
 ing classes not only enjoyed comfort but commanded luxury. 
 All this of course soon acted on the revenue, and both customs 
 and especially excise soon furnished an ample surplus. 
 
 It can not be pretended that all this energy and enterprise 
 were free in their operation from those evils which, it seems, 
 must inevitably attend any extensive public speculation, how- 
 ever well founded. Many of the scenes and circumstances re- 
 called the days of the South Sea Scheme. The gambling in 
 shares of companies which were formed only in name was with- 
 out limit. The principal towns of the north established for 
 that purpose stock exchanges of their own, and Leeds especially, 
 one fifth of whose population had been authoritatively described 
 in the first session of the new Parliament as dependent on the 
 
A REVIVAL OF TRADE. 361 
 
 poor-rates, now boasted of a stock exchange which in the ex- 
 tent of its transactions rivaled that of the metropolis. And 
 the gambling was universal, from the noble to the mechanic. 
 It was confined to no class and to no sex. The scene which 
 took place at the Board of Trade on the last day on which plans 
 could be lodged, and when midnight had arrived while crowds 
 from the country were still filling the hall, and pressing at the 
 doors, deserved and required for its adequate representation the 
 genius of a Hogarth. This was the day on which it was an- 
 nounced that the total number of railway projects, on which 
 deposits had been paid, had reached nearly to eight hundred. 
 
 What is remarkable in this vast movement in which so 
 many millions were produced, and so many more promised, 
 was, that the great leaders of the financial world took no part 
 in it. The mighty loan-mongers on whose fiat the fate of kings 
 and empires sometimes depended, seemed like men who, wit- 
 nessing some eccentricity of nature, watch it with mixed feel- 
 ings of curiosity and alarm. Even Lombard Street, which 
 never was more wanted, was inactive, and it was only by the 
 irresistible pressure of circumstances that a banking firm which 
 had an extensive country connection was forced ultimately to 
 take the leading part that was required, and almost uncon- 
 sciously lay the foundation of the vast fortunes which it has 
 realized, and organize the varied connection which it now com- 
 mands. All seemed to come from the provinces, and from 
 unknown people in the provinces. 
 
 But in all affairs there must be a leader, and a leader ap- 
 peared. He was more remarkable than the movement itself. 
 He was a London tradesman, though a member of Parliament 
 returned for the first time to this House of Commons. This 
 leader was Mr. Vigo. 
 
 Mr. Vigo had foreseen what was coming and had prepared 
 for it. He agreed with Mr. Neuchatel, what was wanted was 
 '* a new channel." That channel he thought he had discov- 
 ered, and he awaited it. He himself could command no incon- 
 siderable amount of capital, and he had a following of obscure 
 rich friends who believed in him, and did what he liked. His 
 daily visits to the City, except when he was traveling over Eng- 
 
 16 
 
362 ENDYMIOK 
 
 land, and especially the north and midland counties, had their 
 purpose and bore fruit. He was a director, and soon the chair- 
 man and leading spirit, of a railway which was destined to be 
 perhaps our most important one. He was master of all the 
 details of the business ; he had arrived at conclusions on the 
 question of the gauges, which then was a pons asinorum for 
 the multitude, and understood all about rolling stock and per- 
 manent ways, and sleepers and branch lines, which were then 
 cabalistic terms to the general. In his first session in Parlia- 
 ment he had passed quietly and almost unnoticed several bills 
 on these matters, and began to be recognized by the Commit- 
 tee of Selection as a member who ought to be **put on " for 
 questions of this kind. 
 
 The great occasion had arrived, and Mr. Vigo was equal to 
 it. He was one of those few men who awake one day and find 
 themselves famous. Suddenly it would seem that the name of 
 Mr. Vigo was in everybody's mouth. There was only one sub- 
 ject which interested the country, and he was recognized as 
 the man who best understood it. He was an oracle, and, nat- 
 urally, soon became an idol. The tariff of the ministers was 
 forgotten, the invectives of the League were disregarded, their 
 motions for the repeal of the corn laws were invariably defeated 
 by large and contemptuous majorities. The House of Com- 
 mons did nothing but pass railway bills, measures which were 
 welcomed with unanimity by the House of Lords, whose estates 
 were in consequence daily increasing in value. People went to 
 the gallery to see Mr. Vigo introduce bills, and could scarcely 
 restrain their enthusiasm at the spectacle of so much patriotic 
 energy, which secured for them premiums for shares, which 
 they held in undertakings of which the first sod was not yet 
 cut. On one morning, the Great Cloudland Company, of 
 which he was chairman, gave their approval of twenty-six bills, 
 which he immediately introduced into Parliament. Next day 
 the Ebor and North Cloudland sanctioned six bills under his 
 advice, and affirmed deeds and agreements which affected all 
 the principal railway projects in Lancashire and Yorkshire. A 
 quarter of an hour later, just time to hurry from one meeting 
 to another, where he was always received with rampant enthu- 
 
FRIENDLY OVERTURES. 363 
 
 siasm, Newcastle and the extreme north accepted his dicta- 
 torship. During a portion of two days, he obtained the con- 
 sent of shareholders to forty bills involving an expenditure of 
 ten millions ; and the engagements for one session alone amount- 
 ed to one hundred and thirty millions sterling. 
 
 Mr. Neuchatel shrugged his shoulders, but no one would 
 listen even to Mr. Neuchatel, when the prime minister himself, 
 supposed to be the most wary of men, and especially on financial 
 subjects, in the very white heat of all this speculation, himself 
 raised the first sod on his own estate in a project of extent and 
 importance. 
 
 Througliout these extraordinary scenes, Mr. Vigo, tliough 
 not free from excitement, exhibited, on the whole, much self- 
 control. He was faithful to his old friends, and no one prof- 
 ited more in this respect than Mr. Rodney. That gentleman 
 became the director of several lines, and vice-chairman of one 
 over which Mr. Vigo himself presided. No one was surprised 
 that Mr. Rodney therefore should enter Parliament. He came 
 in by virtue of one of those petitions that Tadpole was always 
 cooking or baffling. Mr. Rodney was a supporter of the min- 
 istry, and Mr. Vigo was a Liberal, but Mr. Vigo returned Mr. 
 Rodney to Parliament all the same, and no one seemed aston- 
 ished or complained. Political connection, political consistency, 
 political principle, all vanished before the fascination of pre- 
 miums. 
 
 As for Endymion, the great man made him friendly and 
 earnest overtures, and offered, if he would give his time to busi- 
 ness, which, as he was in opposition, would be no great sacri- 
 fice, to promote and secure his fortune. But Endymion, after 
 due reflection, declined, though w^ith gratitude, these tempting 
 proposals. Ferrars was an ambitious man, but not too imagi- 
 native a one. He had a main object in life, and that was to 
 regain the position which had been forfeited, not by his own 
 fault. His grandfather and his father had both been privy 
 councilors and ministers of state. There had, indeed, been 
 more than the prospect of his father filling a very prominent 
 position. All had been lost, but the secret purpose of the life 
 of Endymion was that, from being a clerk in a public office, he 
 
861 ENDYMION. 
 
 should arrive by his own energies at the station to which he 
 seemed, as it were, born. To accomplish this he felt that the 
 entire devotion of his labor and thought were requisite. His 
 character was essentially tenacious, and he had already realized 
 no inconsiderable amount of political knowledge and official 
 experience. His object seemed difficult and distant, but there 
 was nothing wild or visionary in its pursuit. He had achieved 
 some of the first steps, and he was yet very young. There 
 were friends about him, however, who were not content with 
 what they deemed his moderate ambition, and thought they 
 discerned in him qualities which might enable him to mount 
 to a higher stage. However this might be, his judgment was 
 that he must resist the offers of Mr. Vigo, though they were 
 sincerely kind, and so he felt them. 
 
 In the mean time he frequently met that gentleman, and not 
 merely in the House of Commons. Mr. St. Barbe would have 
 been frantically envious could he have witnessed and perused 
 the social invitations that fell like a continuous snow-storm on 
 the favored roof of Mr. Vigo. Mr. Vigo was not a party ques- 
 tion. He dined with high patricians who forgot their political 
 differences, while they agreed in courting the presence of this 
 great benefactor of his country. The fine ladies were as eager 
 in their homage to this real patriot, and he might be seen be- 
 tween rival countesses who emulated each other in their appre- 
 ciation of his public services. These were Mr. Vigo's danger- 
 ous suitors. He confessed to Endymion one day that he could 
 not manage the great ladies. ''Male swells," he would say 
 laughingly, ** I have measured physically and intellectually." 
 The golden youth of the country seemed indeed fascinated by 
 his society, repeated his sententious bon-mots, and applied for 
 shares in every company which he launched into prosperous 
 existence. 
 
 Mr. Vigo purchased a splendid mansion in St. James' 
 Square, where invitations to his banquets were looked upon 
 almost as commands. His chief cook was one of the celebri- 
 ties of Europe, and though he had served emperors, the salary 
 he received from Mr. Vigo exceeded any one he had hitherto 
 condescended to pocket. Mr. Vigo bought estates, hired moors. 
 
JOB THORNBEBRY'S POSITION, 366 
 
 lavished his money, not only with profusion, but with generos- 
 ity. Everything was placed at his command, and it appeared 
 that there was nothing that he refused. **When the excite- 
 ment is over/' said Mr. Bertie Tremaine, "I hope to induce 
 him to take India." 
 
 In the midst of this commanding efiulgence, the calmer 
 beam of Mr. Kodney might naturally pass unnoticed, yet its 
 brightness was clear and sustained. The Rodneys engaged a 
 dwelling of no mean proportion in that favored district of South 
 Kensington, which was then beginning to assume the high 
 character it has since obtained. Their equipages were distin- 
 guished, and when Mrs. Rodney entered the Park, driving her 
 matchless ponies, and attended by outriders, and herself bright 
 as Diana, the world leaning over its palings witnessed her ap- 
 pearance with equal delight and admiration. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX. 
 
 We have rather anticipated, for the sake of the subject in 
 our last chapter, and we must now recur to the time when, after 
 his return from Paris, Endymion entered into what was virtually 
 his first session in the House of Commons. Though in oppo- 
 sition, and with all the delights of the most charming society 
 at his command, he was an habitual and constant attendant. 
 One might have been tempted to believe that he would turn 
 out to be, though a working, only a silent member, but his 
 silence was only prudence. He was deeply interested and 
 amused in watching the proceedings, especially when those 
 took part in them with whom he was acquainted. Job Thorn- 
 berry occupied a leading position in the debates. He addressed 
 the House very shortly after he took his seat, and having a 
 purpose and a most earnest one, and being what is styled a 
 representative man of his subject, the House listened to him at 
 once, and his place in debate was immediately recognized. 
 The times favored him, especially during the first and second 
 session, while the commercial depression lasted ; afterward, he 
 
366 ENDYMION. 
 
 was listened to, becanse he had great oratorical gifts, a persua- 
 sive style that was winning, and, though he had no inconsider- 
 able powers of sarcasm, his extreme tact wisely guided him to 
 restrain for the present that dangerous, though most effective, 
 weapon. 
 
 The Pythagorean school, as Waldershare styled Mr. Bertie 
 Tremaine and his following, very much amused Endymion. 
 The heaven-born-minister air of the great leader was strik- 
 ing. He never smiled, or at any rate contemptuously. No- 
 tice of a question was sometimes publicly given from this 
 bench, but so abstruse in its nature and so quaint in its expres- 
 sion, that the House never comprehended it, and the unfortu- 
 nate minister who had to answer, even with twenty-four hours' 
 study, was obliged to commence his reply by a conjectural in- 
 terpretation of the query formally addressed to him. But 
 though they were silent in the House, their views were other- 
 wise powerfully represented. The weekly journal devoted to 
 their principles was sedulously circulated among members of 
 the House. It was called " The Precursor," and systematically 
 attacked not only every institution, but, it might be said, every 
 law, and all the manners and customs, of the country. Its 
 style was remarkable ; never excited or impassioned, but frigid, 
 logical, and incisive, and suggesting appalling revolutions with 
 the calmness with which one would nan-ate the ordinary inci- 
 dents of life. The editor of " Tlie Precursor " was Mr. Jawett, 
 selected by that great master of human nature, Mr. Bertie Tre- 
 maine. When it got about, that the editor of this fearful jour- 
 nal was a clerk in a public office, the indignation of the govern- 
 ment, or at least of their supporters, was extreme, and there 
 was no end to the punishments and disgrace to which he was to 
 be subjected ; but Waldershare, who lived a good deal in Bohe- 
 mia, was essentially cosmopolitan, and dabbled in letters, 
 persuaded his colleagues not to make the editor of the " Pre- 
 cursor" a martyr, and undertook with their authority to 
 counteract his evil purpose by literary means alone. 
 
 Being fully empowered to take all necessary steps for this 
 object, Waldershare thought that there was no better mode of 
 arresting public attention to his enterprise than by engaging 
 
EyDYMIOJ^'S FIRST ATTEMPT. 387- 
 
 for its manager the most renowned pen of the hour, and he 
 opened himself on the subject in the mosj: sacred confidence to 
 Mr. St. Barbe. That gentleman, invited to call upon a minis- 
 ter, sworn to secrecy, and brimful of state secrets, could not 
 long restrain himself, and with admirable discretion consulted 
 on his views and prospects Mr. Endymion Ferrars* 
 
 " But I thought you were one of us," said Endymion ; 
 '• you asked me to put you in the way of getting into 
 Brookes'?" 
 
 "What of that?" said Mr. St. Barbe; "and when you 
 remember what the' Whigs*owe to literary men, they ought to 
 have elected me into Brookes' without my asking for it." 
 
 " Still, if you be on the other side ? " 
 
 "It is nothing to do with sides," said Mr. St. Barbe ; "this 
 affair goes far beyond sides. The ' Precursor ' wants to put 
 down the Crown ; I shall put down the ' Precursor.' It is an 
 affair of the closet, not of sides — an affair of the royal closet, 
 sir. I am acting for the Crown, sir ; the Crown has appealed 
 to me. I save the Crown, and there must be personal relations 
 with the highest," and he looked quite fierce. 
 
 "Well, you have not written your first article yet," said 
 Endymion. "I shall look forward to it with much in- 
 terest." 
 
 After Easter, Lord Roehampton said to Endymion that a 
 question ought to be put on a subject of foreign policy of im- 
 portance, and on which he thought the ministry were in diffi- 
 culties ; " And I think you might as well ask it, Endymion. I 
 will draw up the question, and you will give notice of it. It 
 will be a reconnoissance." 
 
 The notice of this question was the first time Endymion 
 opened his mouth in the House of Commons. It was an hum- 
 ble and not a very hazardous office, but when he got on his 
 legs his head swam, his heart beat so violently that it was like 
 a convulsion preceding death, and though he was only on his 
 legs for a few seconds, all the sorrows of his life seemed to pass 
 before him. When he sat down, he was quite surprised that 
 the business of the house proceeded as usual, and it was only 
 after some time that he became convinced that no one but him- 
 
368 ENDYMIOK 
 
 self was conscious of his sufferings, or that he had performed a 
 routine duty otherwise than in a routine manner. 
 
 The crafty question, however, led to some important con- 
 sequences. When asked, to the surprise of every one the min- 
 ister himself replied to it. Waldershare, with whom En- 
 dymion dined at Bellamy's that day, was in no good humor in 
 consequence. 
 
 When Lord Roehampton had considered the ministerial 
 reply, he said to Endymion, '^This must be followed up. You 
 must move for papers. It will be a good opportunity for you, 
 for the House is up to something bffing in the wind and they 
 will listen. It will be curious to see whether the minister fol- 
 lows you. If so, he will give me an opening." 
 
 Endymion felt that this was the crisis of his life. He knew 
 the subject well, and he had all the tact and experience of 
 Lord Roehampton to guide him in his statement and his argu- 
 ments. He had also the great feeling that, if necessary, a 
 powerful arm would support him. It was about a week before 
 the day arrived, and Endymion slept very little that week, and 
 the night before his motion not a wink. He almost wished he 
 was dead as he walked down to the House in the hope that the 
 exercise might remedy, or improve, his languid circulation ; 
 but in vain, and when his name was called and he had to rise, 
 his hands and feet were like ice. 
 
 Lady Roehampton and Lady Montfort were both in the 
 ventilator, and he knew it. 
 
 It might be said that he was sustained by his utter despair. 
 He felt so feeble and generally imbecile, that he had not vital- 
 ity enough to be sensible of failure. 
 
 He had a kind audience, and an interested one. When he 
 opened his mouth, he forgot his first sentence, which he had 
 long prepared. In trying to recall it and failing, he was for a 
 moment confused. But it was only for a moment ; the un- 
 premeditated came to his aid, and his voice, at first tremulous, 
 was recognized as distinct and rich. There was a murmur of 
 sympathy, and not merely from his own side. Suddenly, both 
 physically and intellectually he was quite himself. His ar- 
 rested circulation flowed, and fed his stagnant brain. His 
 
WALDERSHABE ENRAGED. 
 
 statement was lucid, his arguments were difficult to encounter, 
 and his manner was modest. He sat down amid general ap- 
 plause, and though he was then conscious that he had omitted 
 more than one point on which he had relied, he was on the' 
 whole satisfied, and recollected that he might use them in 
 reply, a privilege to which he now looked forward with feelings 
 of comfort and confidence. 
 
 The minister again followed him, and in an elaborate speech. 
 The subject, evidently in the opinion of the minister, was of 
 too delicate and difficult a character to trust to a subordinate. 
 Overwhelmed as he was with the labors of his own department, 
 the general conduct of affairs, and the leadership of the House, 
 he still would undertake the representation of an office with 
 whose business he was not familiar. "Wary and accurate he 
 always was, but in discussions on foreign affairs, he never ex- 
 hibited the unrivaled facility with which he ever treated a com- 
 mercial or financial question, or that plausible promptness with 
 which at a moment's notice, he could encounter any difficulty 
 connected with domestic administration. 
 
 All these were qualities which Lord Roehampton possessed 
 with reference to the affairs over which he had long presided, 
 and in the present instance, following the minister, he was 
 particularly happy. He had a good case, and he was gratified 
 by the success of Endymion. He complimented him and con- 
 futed his opponent, and not satisfied with demolishing his 
 arguments. Lord Roehampton indulged in a little raillery which 
 the House enjoyed, but which was never pleasing to the more 
 solemn organization of his rival. 
 
 No language can describe the fury of Waldershare as to the 
 events of this evening. He looked upon the conduct of the 
 minister, in not permitting him to represent his department, 
 as a decree of the incapacity of his subordinate, and of the vir- 
 tual termination of the official career of the Under-Secretary 
 of State. He would have resigned the next day had it not 
 been for the influence of Lady Beaumaris, who soothed him by 
 suggesting, that it would be better to take an early opportunity 
 of changing his present post for another. 
 
 The minister was wrong. He vras not fond of trusting 
 
370 ENDYMION. 
 
 youth, but it is a confidence which should be exercised, par- 
 ticularly in the conduct of a popular assembly. If the under- 
 secretary had not satisfactorily answered Endymion, which no 
 one had a right to assume, for Waldershare was a brilliant man, 
 the minister could have always advanced to the rescue at the 
 fitting time. As it was, he made a personal enemy of one who 
 naturally might have ripened into a devoted follower, and who 
 from his social influences, as well as from his political talents, 
 was no despicable foe. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. 
 
 Notwithstanding the great political, and consequently 
 social, changes that had taken place, no very considerable al- 
 teration occurred in the general life of those chief personages 
 in whose existence we have attempted to interest the reader. 
 However vast may appear to be the world in which we move, 
 we all of us live in a limited circle. It is the result of circum- 
 stances ; of our convenience and our taste. Lady Beaumaris 
 became the acknowledged leader of Tory society, and her hus- 
 band was so pleased with her position, and so proud of it, that 
 he in a considerable degree sacrificed his own pursuits and 
 pleasures for its maintenance. He even refused the mastership 
 of a celebrated hunt, which had once been an object of his 
 highest ambition, that he might be early and always in London 
 to support his wife in her receptions. Imogene herself was 
 universally popular. Her gentle and natural manners, blended 
 with a due degree of self-respect, her charming appearance, 
 and her ready but unaffected sympathy, won every heart. 
 Lady Roehampton was her frequent guest. Myra continued 
 her duties as a leader of society, as her lord was anxious that 
 the diplomatic world should not forget him. These were the 
 two principal and rival houses. The efforts of Lady Montfort 
 were more fitful, for they were to a certain degree dependent 
 on the moods of her husband. It was observed that Lady 
 Beaumaris never omitted attending the receptions of Lady Roe- 
 hampton, and the tone of almost reverential affection with 
 
THE PRINCE'S GUESTS. 371 
 
 which she ever approached Myra was touching to those who 
 were, in the secret, but they were few. 
 
 No great change occurred in the position of Prince Flores- 
 tan, except that in addition to the sports to which he was ap- 
 parently devoted, he gradually began to interest himself in the 
 turf. He had bred several horses of repute, and one, which he 
 had named Lady Roehampton, was the favorite for a celebrated 
 race. His highness was anxious that Myra should honor him 
 by being his guest. This had never occurred before, because 
 Lord Roehampton felt that so avowed an intimacy with a per- 
 sonage in the peculiar position of Prince Florestan was hardly 
 becoming a secretary of state for foreign affairs ; but that he 
 was no longer, and being the most good-natured man that ever 
 lived, and easily managed in little things, he could not refuse 
 Myra when she consulted him, as they call it, on the subject, 
 and it was settled that Lord and Lady Roehampton were to 
 dine with Prince Florestan. The prince was most anxious that 
 Mr. Sidney Wilton should take this occasion of consenting to 
 a reconciliation with him, and Lady Roehampton exerted her- 
 self much for this end. Mr. Sidney Wilton was in love with 
 Lady Roehampton, and yet on this point he was inexorable. 
 Lord and Lady Beaumaris went, and Lady Montfort, to whom 
 the, prince had addressed a private note of his own that quite 
 captivated her, and Mr. and Mrs. Neuchatel and Adriana. 
 Waldershare, Endymion, and Baron Sergius, completed the 
 guests, who were received by the Duke of St. Angelo and a 
 couple of aides-de-camp. When the prince entered all rose, 
 and the ladies courtesied very low. Lord Roehampton resumed 
 his seat immediately, saying to his neighbor, "I rose to show 
 my respect to my host ; I sit down to show that I look upon 
 him as a subject like myself." 
 
 "A subject of whom ?" inquired Lady Montfort. 
 
 "There is something in that," said Lord Roehampton, 
 smiling. 
 
 The Duke of St. Angelo was much disturbed by the con- 
 duct of Lord Roehampton, which had disappointed his calcu- 
 lations, and he went about lamenting that Lord Roehampton 
 had a little gout. 
 
372 ENDYMION. 
 
 They had assembled in the library and dined on the same 
 floor. The prince was seated between Lady Montfort, whom 
 he accompanied to dinner, and Lady Roehampton. Adriana 
 fell to Endymion's lot. She looked very pretty, was beauti- 
 fully dressed, and for her, was even gay. Her companion was 
 in good spirits, and she seemed interested and amused. The 
 prince never spoke much, but his remarks always told. He 
 liked murmuring to women, but when requisite, he could 
 throw a fly over the table with adroitness and effect. More 
 than once during the dinner he whispered to Lady Roehamp- 
 ton : ** This is too kind — your coming here. But you have 
 always been my best friend." The dinner would have been 
 lively and successful even if Waldershare had not been there, 
 but he to-day was exuberant and irresistible. His chief topic 
 was abuse of the government of which he was a member, and 
 he lavished all his powers of invective and ridicule alike on the 
 imbecility of their policy and their individual absurdities. All 
 this much amused Lady Montfort, and gave Lord Roehampton 
 an opportunity to fool the Under-Secretary of State to the top 
 of his bent. 
 
 **If you do not take care," said Mr. Neuchatel, "they will 
 turn you out." 
 
 ** I wish they would," said Waldershare. " That is what I 
 am longing for. I should go then all over the country and ad- 
 dress public meetings. It would be the greatest thing since 
 Sacheverell." 
 
 *^Our people have not behaved well to Mr. Waldershare," 
 whispered Imogene to Lord Roehampton, ** but I think we shall 
 put it all right." 
 
 ** Do you believe it ? " inquired Lady Montfort of Lord Roe- 
 hampton. He had been speaking to her for some little time in 
 a hushed tone, and rather earnestly. 
 
 '* Indeed I do ; I can not well see what there is to doubt 
 about it. We know the father very well — an excellent man ; he 
 was the parish priest of Lady Roehampton before her marriage, 
 when she lived in the country. And we know from him that 
 more than a year ago something was contemplated. The son 
 gave up his living then ; he has remained at Rome ever since. 
 
CONVERSATION TOPICS. 373 
 
 And now I am told he returns to us, the Pope's legate and an 
 archbishop in partihus ! " 
 
 "It is most interesting," said Lady Montfort. '*I was aL 
 ways his great admirer." 
 
 " I know that ; you and Lady Eoehampton made me go and 
 hear him. The father will be terribly distressed." 
 
 "I do not care at all about the father," said Lady Mont- 
 fort ; ** but the son had such a fine voice and was so very good- 
 looking. I hope I shall see him." 
 
 They were speaking of Nigel Penruddock, whose move- 
 ments had been a matter of much mystery during the last two 
 years. Eumors of his having been received into the Koman 
 Church had been often rife ; sometimes flatly, and in time 
 faintly, contradicted. Now the facts seemed admitted, and it 
 would appear that he was about to return to England not only 
 as a Eoman Catholic, but as a distinguished priest of the 
 Church, and, it was said, even the representative of the Pa- 
 pacy. 
 
 All the guests rose at the same time — a pleasant habit — and 
 went up-stairs to the brilliantly lighted saloons. Lord Roe- 
 hampton seated himsslf by Baron Sergius, with whom he was 
 always glad to converse. *^ We seem here quiet and content ? " 
 said the ex-minister, inquiringly. 
 
 *'I hope so, and I think so," said Sergius. "He believes 
 in his star, and will leave everything to its influence. There 
 are to be no more adventures." 
 
 " It must be a great relief to Lord Roehampton to have got 
 quit of office," said Mrs. Neuchatel to Lady Roehampton. "I 
 always pitied him so much. I never can understand why peo- 
 ple voluntarily incur such labors and anxiety." 
 
 "You should join us," said Mr. Neuchatel to Waldershare. 
 " They would be very glad to see you at Brookes'." 
 
 " Brookes' may join the October Club which I am going to 
 revive," said "Waldershare. 
 
 "I never heard of that club," said Mr. Neuchatel. 
 
 "It was a much more important thing than the Bill of 
 Rights or the Act of Settlement," said Waldershare, "all the 
 
374 ENDYMION. 
 
 "I want to see his mother's portrait in the farther saloon," 
 said Lady Montfort to Myra. 
 
 "Let us go together." And Lady Roehampton rose and 
 they went. 
 
 It was a portrait of Queen Agrippina by a master hand, 
 and admirably illumined by reflected light, so that it seemed 
 to live. 
 
 " She must have been very beautiful," said Lady Mont- 
 fort. 
 
 **Mr. Sidney Wilton was devotedly attached to her, my 
 lord has told me," said Lady Roehampton. 
 
 "So many were devotedly attached to her," said Lady 
 Montfort. 
 
 " Yes ; she was like Mary of Scotland, whom some men are 
 in love with even to this day. Her spell was irresistible. 
 There are no such women now." 
 
 " Yes ; there is one," said Lady Montfort, suddenly turn- 
 ing round and embracing Lady Roehampton; "and I know 
 she hates me, because she thinks I prevent her brother from 
 marrying." 
 
 " Dear Lady Montfort, how can you use such strong ex- 
 pressions ! I am sure there can be only one feeling of Endym- 
 ion's friends to you, and that is gratitude for your kindness to 
 him." 
 
 "I have done nothing for him ; I can do nothing for him. 
 I felt that when we were trying to get him into Parliament. 
 If he could marry, and be independent, and powerful, and 
 rich, it would be better, perhaps, for all of us." 
 
 "I wish he were independent, and powerful, and rich," 
 said Myra, musingly. " That would be a fairy tale. At pres- 
 ent, he must be content that he has some of the kindest friends 
 in the world." 
 
 " He interests me very much ; no one so much. I am sin- 
 cerely, even deeply, attached to him ; but it is like your love, 
 it is a sister's love. There is only one person I really love in 
 the world, and alas ! he does not love me ! " And her voice 
 was tremulous. 
 
 " Do not say such things, dear Lady Montfort. I never 
 
Alsf EFFECT ON SOCIETY, 375 
 
 can believe what you sometimes intimate on that subject. Do 
 you know, I think it a little hallucination." 
 
 Lady Montfort shook her head with a truly mournful ex- 
 pression, and then suddenly, her beautiful face wreathed with 
 smiles, she said in a gay voice, "We will not think of such 
 sorrows. I wish them to be entombed in my heart, but the 
 specters will rise sometimes. Now about your brother. I do 
 not mean to say that it would not be a great loss to me if he 
 married, but I wish him to marry if you do. For myself, I 
 must have a male friend, and he must be very clever, and 
 thoroughly understand politics. You know you deprived me 
 of Lord Roehampton," she continued, smilingly, '* who was 
 everything I could desire ; and the Count of Ferroll would 
 have suited me excellently, but then he ran away. Now'En- 
 dymion could not easily run away, and he is so agreeable and 
 so intelligent, that at last I thought I had found a companion 
 ..worth helping — and I meant, and still mean, to work hard — 
 until he is prime minister." 
 
 " I have my dreams too about that," said Lady Roehamp- 
 ton, "but we are all about the same age, and can wait a little." 
 
 " He can not be minister too soon," said Lady Montfort. 
 "It was not being minister soon that ruined Charles Fox." 
 
 The party broke up. The prince made a sign to Walder- 
 share, which meant a confidential cigar, and in a few minutes 
 they were alone together. 
 
 "What women !" exclaimed the prince. "Not to be ri- 
 valed in this city, and yet quite unlike each other." 
 
 "And which do you admire most, sir ? " said Waldershare. 
 
 The prince trimmed his cigar, and then he said, "I will 
 tell you, this day five years." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXL 
 
 The ecclesiastical incident mentioned at the dinner de- 
 scribed in our last chapter, produced a considerable effect in 
 what is called society. Nigel Penruddock had obtained great 
 
376 EFDYMION. 
 
 celebrity as a preacher, while his extreme doctrines and prac- 
 tices had alike amazed, fascinated, and alarmed, a large portion 
 of the public. For some time he had withdrawn from the 
 popular gaze, but his individuality was too strong to be easily 
 forgotten, even if occasional paragraphs as to his views and 
 conduct, published, contradicted, and reiterated, were not suf- 
 ficient to sustain, and even stimulate, curiosity. That he was 
 about to return to his native land, as the Legate of His Holi- 
 ness, was an event which made many men look grave, and some 
 female hearts flutter. 
 
 The memory of Lady Roehampton could not escape from 
 the past, and she could not recall it and all the scenes at 
 Hurstley without emotion ; and Lady Montfort remembered 
 with some pride and excitement, that the Legate of the Pope 
 had once been one of her heroes. It was evident that he had 
 no wish to avoid his old acquaintances, for shortly after his 
 arrival, and after he had assembled his suffragans, and instruct- 
 ed the clergy of his district, for dioceses did not then exist, 
 Archbishop Penruddock, for so the Metropolitan of Tyre sim- 
 ply styled himself, called upon both these ladies. 
 
 His first visit was to Myra, and notwithstanding her disci- 
 plined self-control, her intense pride, and the deep and daring 
 spirit which always secretly sustained her, she was nervous and 
 agitated, but only in her boudoir. When she entered the sa- 
 loon to welcome him, she seemed as calm as if she were going 
 to an evening assembly. 
 
 Nigel was changed. Instead of that anxious and moody 
 look which formerly marred the refined beauty of his counte- 
 nance, his glance was calm and yet radiant. He was thinner, 
 it might almost be said emaciated, which seemed to add height 
 to his tall figure. 
 
 Lady Roehampton need not have been nervous about the 
 interview and the pain of its inevitable associations. Except 
 one allusion at the end of his visit, when his grace mentioned 
 some petty grievance, of which he wished to relieve his clergy, 
 and said, "I think I will consult your brother; being in the 
 opposition, he will be less embarrassed than some of my friends 
 in the government, or their supporters," he never referred to 
 
ARCHBISHOP PENRUDDOGK. 377 
 
 the past. All lie spoke of "was the magnitude of his task, the 
 immense but inspiring labors which awaited him, and his deep 
 sense of his responsibility. Nothing but the Divine principle 
 of the Church could sustain him. He was at one time hope- 
 ful that His Holiness might have thought the time ripe for the 
 restoration of the national hierarchy, but it was decreed other- 
 wise. Had it been accorded, no doubt it would have assisted 
 him. A prelate in partibus is, in a certain sense, a stranger, 
 whatever his duties, and the world is more willing when it is 
 appealed to by one who has *'a local habitation and a name ; " 
 he is identified with the people among whom he lives. There 
 was much to do. The state of the Catholic poor in his own 
 district was heartrending. He never could have conceived 
 such misery, and that too under the shadow of the Abbey. 
 The few schools which existed were wretched, and his first 
 attention must be given to this capital deficiency. He trusted 
 much to female aid. He meant to invite the great Catholic 
 ladies to unite with him in a common labor of love. In this 
 great center of civilization, and wealth, and power, there was 
 need of the spirit of a St. Ursula. 
 
 No one seemed more pleased by the return of Archbishop 
 Penruddock than Lord Montf ort. He appeared to be so deeply 
 interested in his grace's mission, sought his society so often, 
 treated him with such profound respect, almost ceremony, 
 asked so many questions about what was happening at Rome, 
 and what was going to be done here — that Nigel might have 
 been pardoned if he did not despair of ultimately inducing 
 Lord Montfort to return to the faith of his illustrious ances- 
 tors. And yet, all this time. Lord Montfort was only amusing 
 himself ; a new character was to him a new toy, and when he 
 could not find one, he would dip into the '^ Memoirs of St. 
 Simon." 
 
 Instead of avoiding society, as was his wont in old days, 
 the archbishop sought it. And there was nothing exclusive in 
 his social habits ; all classes and all creeds, all conditions and 
 orders of men, were alike interesting to him ; they were part 
 of the mighty community, with all whose pursuits, and pas- 
 sions, and interests, and occupations, he seemed to sympathize. 
 
378 ENDYMION, 
 
 but respecting which he had only one object — to bring them 
 back once more to that imperial fold from which in an hour of 
 darkness and distraction they had miserably wandered. The 
 conversion of England was deeply engraven on the heart of 
 Penruddock ; it was his constant purpose, and his daily and 
 nightly prayer. 
 
 So the archbishop was seen everywhere, even at fashionable 
 assemblies. He was a frequent guest at banquets which he 
 never tasted, for he was a smiling ascetic, and though he 
 seemed to be preaching or celebrating high mass in every part 
 of the metropolis, organizing schools, establishing convents, 
 and building cathedrals, he could find time to move philan- 
 thropic resolutions at middle-class meetings, attend learned 
 associations, and even occasionally send a paper to the Koyal 
 Society. . 
 
 The person who fell most under the influence of the arch- 
 bishop was Waldershare. He was fairly captivated by him. 
 Nothing would satisfy Waldershare till he had brought the 
 archbishop and Prince Florestan together. " You are a Roman 
 Catholic prince, sir," he would say. "It is absolute folly to 
 forego such a source of influence and power as the Roman 
 Catholic Church. Here is your man ; a man made for the oc- 
 casion, a man who may be pope. Come to an understanding 
 with him, and I believe you will regain your throne in a year." 
 
 " But, my dear Waldershare, it is very true I am a Roman 
 Catholic, but I am also the head of the Liberal party in my 
 country, and perhaps also on the continent of Europe, and 
 they are not particularly affected to archbishops and popes." 
 
 ** Old-fashioned twaddle of the Liberal party," exclaimed 
 Waldershare. ** There is more true democracy in the Roman 
 Catholic Church than in all the secret societies of Europe." 
 
 " There is something in that," said the Prince, musingly, 
 **and my friends are Roman Catholics, nominally Roman 
 Catholics. If I were quite sure your man and the priests 
 generally were nominally Roman Catholics, something might 
 be done." 
 
 "As for that," said Waldershare, "sensible men are all of 
 the same religion." 
 
A SECOND PITT, 379 
 
 '^ And. pray what is that ? " inquired the Prince. 
 
 " Sensible men never tell." 
 
 Perhaps there was no family which suited him more, and 
 where the archbishop became more intimate, than the Neucha- 
 tels. He yery much valued a visit to Hainault, and the mis- 
 cellaneous and influential circles he met there — merchant 
 princes, and great powers of Lombard Street and the Stock 
 Exchange. The Governor of the Bank happened to be a high 
 churchman, and listened to the archbishop with evident relish. 
 Mrs. Neuchatel also acknowledged the spell of his society, and 
 he quite agreed with her that people should be neither so poor 
 nor so rich. She had long mused over plans of social ameliora- 
 tion, and her new ally was to teach her how to carry them into 
 practice. As for Mr. Neuchatel, he was pleased that his wife 
 was amused, and liked the archbishop as he liked all clever 
 men. **You know," he would say, "lam in favor of all 
 churches, provided, my lord archbishop, they do not do any- 
 thing very foolish. Eh ? So I shall subscribe to your schools 
 with gi'eat pleasure. We can not have too many schools, even 
 if they only keep young people from doing mischief." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXII. 
 
 The prosperity of the country was so signal, while Mr. 
 Vigo was unceasingly directing millions of our accumulated capi- 
 tal, and promises of still more, into the ''new channel," that 
 it seemed beyond belief that any change of administration could 
 ever occur, at least in the experience of the existing generation. 
 The minister to whose happy destiny it had fallen to gratify 
 the large appetites and reckless consuming powers of a class 
 now first known in our social hierarchy as "Navvies," was 
 hailed as a second Pitt. The countenance of the opposition 
 was habitually dejected, with the exception of those members 
 of it on whom Mr. Vigo graciously conferred shares, and Lady 
 Montfort taunted Mr. Sidney Wilton with inquiries, why he 
 and his friends had not made railroads, instead of inventing 
 
380 ENDYMION. 
 
 nonsense about cheap bread. Job Thornberry made wonder- 
 ful speeches in favor of total and immediate repeal of the corn 
 laws, and the Liberal party, while they cheered him, priyately 
 expressed their regrets that such a capital speaker, who might 
 be anything, was not a practical man. Low prices, abundant 
 harvests, and a thriving commerce had rendered all appeals, 
 varied even by the persuasive ingenuity of Thornberry, a 
 wearisome iteration ; and, though the League had transplanted 
 itself from Manchester to the metropolis, and hired theatres 
 for their rhetoric, the close of 1845 found them nearly reduced 
 to silence. 
 
 Mr. Bertie Tremaine, who was always studying the spirit of 
 the age, announced to the initiated that Mr. Vigo had some- 
 thing of the character and structure of Napoleon, and that he 
 himself began to believe, that an insular nation, with such an 
 enormous appetite, was not adapted to cosmopolitan principles, 
 which were naturally of a character more spiritual and abstract. 
 Mr. Bertie Tremaine asked Mr. Vigo to dinner, and introduced 
 him to several distinguished youths of extreme opinions, who 
 were dining oil gold plate. Mr. Vigo was much flattered by 
 his visit ; his host made much of him ; and he heard many 
 things on the principles of government, and even of society, 
 in the largest sense of the expression, which astonished and 
 amused him. In the course of the evening he varied the con- 
 versation — one which became the classical library and the busts 
 of the surrounding statesmen — by promising to most of the 
 guests allotments of shares in a new company, not yet launched, 
 but whose securities were already at a high premium. 
 
 Endymion, in the mean time, pursued the even tenor of his 
 way. Guided by the experience, unrivaled knowledge, and 
 consummate tact of Lord Koehampton, he habitually made 
 inquiries, or brought forward motions which were evidently 
 inconvenient or embarrassing to the ministry ; and the very 
 circumstance that he was always replied to by the prime minis- 
 ter elevated him in the estimation of the House as much as the 
 pertinence of his questions, and the accurate information on 
 which he founded his motions. He had not taken the House 
 with a rush like Job Thornberry, but, at the end of three ses- 
 
POTATOES. 381 
 
 sions, he was a personage universally looked upon as one who 
 was ^' certain to have office." 
 
 There was another new member who had also made way, 
 though slowly, and that was Mr. Trenchard; he had distin- 
 guished himsejf on a difficult committee, on which he had 
 guided a perplexed minister, who was chairman, through many 
 intricacies. Mr. Trenchard watched the operations of Mr. 
 Vigo with a calm, cold scrutiny, and ventured one day to im- 
 part his conviction to Endymion that there were breakers ahead. 
 **Vigo is exhausting the floating capital of the country," he 
 said, and he offered to Endymion to give him all the necessary 
 details, if he would call the attention of the House to the mat- 
 ter. Endymion declined to do this, chiefly because he wished to 
 devote himself to foreign affairs, and thought the House would 
 hardly brook his interference also in finance. So he strongly 
 advised Trenchard himself to undertake the task. Trenchard 
 was modest, and a little timid about speaking ; so it was set- 
 tled that he should consult the leaders on the question, and 
 particularly the gentleman whom it was supposed would be 
 their chancellor of the exchequer, if ever they were again called 
 upon to form a ministry. This right honorable individual lis- 
 tened to Trenchard with the impatience which became a man 
 of great experience addressed by a novice, and concluded the 
 interview by saying that he thought " there was nothing in 
 it ; " at the same time he would turn it in his mind, and con- 
 sult some practical men. Accordingly the ex- and future min- 
 ister consulted Mr. Vigo, who assured him that he was quite 
 right ; that " there was nothing in it," and that the floating 
 capital of the country was inexhaustible. 
 
 In the midst of all this physical prosj^erity, one fine day in 
 August, Parliament having just been prorogued, an unknown 
 dealer in potatoes wrote to the secretary of state, and informed 
 him that he had reason to think that a murrain had fallen over 
 the whole of the potato crops in England, and that, if it ex- 
 tended to Ireland, the most serious consequences must ensue. 
 
 This mysterious but universal sickness of a single root 
 changed the history of the world. 
 
 ** There is no gambling like politics," said Lord Roehamp- 
 
382 ENDYMION. 
 
 ton, as he glanced at the *' Times," at Princedown ; "four 
 cabinets in one week ; the government must be more sick than 
 the potatoes." 
 
 ** Berengaria always says," said Lord Montfort, " that you 
 should see Princedown in summer. I, on the contrary, main- 
 tain it is essentially a winter residence, for, if there ever be a 
 sunbeam in England, Princedown always catches it. Now to- 
 day, one might fancy one's self at Cannes." 
 
 Lord Montfort was quite right, but even the most willful 
 and selfish of men was generally obliged to pass his Christmas 
 at his northern castle. Montf orts had passed their Christmas 
 in that grim and mighty dwelling-place for centuries. Even 
 he was not strong enough to contend against such tradition. 
 Besides, every one loves power, even if they do not know what 
 to do with it. There are such things as memberships for coun- 
 ties, which, if public feeling be not outraged, are hereditary, 
 and adjacent boroughs, which, with a little management and 
 much expense, become reasonable and loyal. If the flag were 
 rarely to wave on the proud keep of Montfort, all these satis- 
 factory circumstances would be greatly disturbed and baffled ; 
 and if the ancient ensign did not promise welcome and hospi- 
 tality at Christmas, some of the principal uses even of Earls of 
 Montfort might be questioned. 
 
 There was another reason, besides the distance and the 
 clime, why Lord Montfort disliked the glorious pile which 
 every Englishman envied him for possessing. The mighty 
 domain of Montfort was an estate in strict settlement. Its 
 lord could do nothing but enjoy its convenience and its beauty, 
 and expend its revenues. Nothing could be sold or bought, 
 not the slightest alteration — according to Lord Montfort — be 
 made, without applying to trustees for their sanction. Lord 
 Montfort spoke of this pitiable state of affairs as if he were 
 describing the serfdom of the middle ages. " If I were to pull 
 this bell-rope, and it came down," he would say, "I should 
 have to apply to the trustees before it could be arranged." 
 
 Such a humiliating state of affairs had induced his lord- 
 ship, on the very first occasion, to expend half a million of 
 accumulations, which were at his own disposal, in the purchase 
 
LIFE AT PRINCEDOWK 383 
 
 of Princedown, which certainly was a very different residence 
 from Montfort Castle, alike in its clime and character. 
 
 Princedown was situate in a southern county, hardly on a 
 southern coast, for it was ten miles from the sea, though en- 
 chanting views of the Channel were frequent and exquisite. It 
 was a palace built in old days upon the downs, but sheltered 
 and screened from every hostile wind. The full warmth of 
 the south fell upon the vast but fantastic pile of the renaissance 
 style, said to have been built by that gifted but mysterious 
 individual, John of Padua. The gardens were wonderful, ter- 
 race upon terrace, and on each terrace a tall fountain. But 
 the most peculiar feature was the park, which was undulating 
 and extensive, but its timber entirely ilex : single trees of an 
 age and size not common in that tree, and groups and clumps 
 of ilex, but always ilex. Beyond the park, and extending far 
 into the horizon, was Princedown forest, the dominion of the 
 red deer. 
 
 The Roehamptons and Endymion were the only permanent 
 visitors at Princedown at this moment, but every day brought 
 guests who staid eight-and-forty hours, and then flitted. 
 Lady Montfort, like the manager of a theatre, took care that 
 there should be a succession of novelties to please or to sur- 
 prise the wayward audience for whom she had to cater. On 
 the whole. Lord Montfort was, for him, in an extremely good 
 humor ; never very ill ; Princedown was the only place where 
 he never was very ill ; he was a little excited, too, by the state 
 of politics, though he did not exactly know why ; " though, I 
 suppose," he would say to Lord Roehampton, "ii you do come 
 in again, there will be no more nonsense about O'Connell and 
 all that sort of thing. If you are prudent on that head, and 
 carry a moderate fixed duty, not too high, say ten shillings — 
 that would satisfy everybody — I do not see why the thing 
 might not go on as long as you liked." 
 
 Mr. Waldershare came down, exuberant with endless com- 
 binations of persons and parties. He foresaw in all these 
 changes that most providential consummation, the end of the 
 middle class. 
 
 Mr. Waldershare had become quite a favorite with Lord 
 
384 ENDYMION. 
 
 Montfort, who delighted to talk with him about th§ Duke of 
 Modena, and imbibe his original views of English history. 
 ** Only," Lord Montfort would observe, " the Montforts have 
 so much Church property, and I fancy the Duke of Modena 
 V^ould want us to disgorge."' 
 
 St. Barbe had been invited, and made his appearance. 
 There had been a degree of estrangement between him and his 
 patron. St. Barbe was very jealous ; he was indeed jealous of 
 everybody and everything, and of late there was a certain Doc- 
 tor Comeley, an Oxford don of the new school, who had been 
 introduced to Lord Montfort, and was initiating him in all the 
 mysteries of Neology. This celebrated divine, who, in a sweet 
 silky voice quoted Socrates instead of St. Paul, and was op- 
 posed to all symbols and formulas as essentially unphilosophi- 
 cal, had become the hero of "the little dinners" at Montfort 
 House, where St. Barbe had been so long wont to shine, and 
 who in consequence himself had become every day more se- 
 verely orthodox. 
 
 "Perhaps we may meet to-day," said Endymion one morn- 
 ing to St. Barbe in Pall Mall as they were separating. " There 
 is a little dinner at Montfort House. " 
 
 " Confound your little dinners ! " exclaimed the indignant 
 St. Barbe ; " I hope never to go to another little dinner, and 
 especially at Montfort House. I do not want to be asked to din- 
 ner to tumble and play tricks to amuse my host. I want to be 
 amused myself. One can not be silent at these little dinners, 
 and the consequence is, you say all the good things which are in 
 your next number, and when it comes out people say they have 
 heard them before. No, sir, if Lord Montfort, or any other 
 lord, wishes me to dine with him, let him ask me to a banquet 
 of his own order, and where I may hold my tongue like the 
 rest of his aristocratic guests." 
 
 Mr. Trenchard had come down and brought the news that 
 the ministry had resigned, and that the Queen had sent for the 
 leader of the opposition, who was in Scotland. 
 
 "I suppose we shall have to go to town," said Lady Koe- 
 hampton to her brother, in a room, busy and full. "It is so 
 difficult to be alone here," she continued in a whisper ; "let 
 
MTHA AND ENDYMIOK 385 
 
 us get into the gardens." And they escaped. And then, when 
 they were out of hearing and of sight of any one, she said, 
 *'This is a most critical time in your life, Endymion ; it makes 
 me very anxious. I look upon it as certain that you will be 
 in office, and in all probability under my lord. He has said 
 nothing to me about it, but I feel quite assured it will happen. 
 It will be a great event. Poor papa began by being an under- 
 secretary of state ! " she continued in a moody tone, half speak- 
 ing to herself, " and all seemed so fair then, but he had no 
 root. "What I want, Endymion, is that you should have a 
 root. There is too much chance and favor in your lot. They 
 will fail you some day, some day too when I may not be by 
 you. Even this great opening, which is at hand, would never 
 have been at your command but for a mysterious gift on which 
 you never could have counted." 
 
 "It is very true, Myra, but what then ?" 
 
 '* Why then, I think we should guard against such contin- 
 gencies. You know what is in my mind ; we have spoken of it 
 before, and not once only. I want you to marry, and you know 
 whom." 
 
 "Marriage is a serious affair !" said Endymion with a dis- 
 tressed look. 
 
 " The most serious. It is the principal event for good or 
 for evil in all lives. Had I not married, and married as I did, 
 we should not have been here — and where, I dare not think." 
 
 "Yes ; but you made a happy marriage ; one of the happi- 
 est that was ever known, I think." 
 
 " And I wish you, Endymion, to make the same. I did not 
 marry for love, though love came, and I brought happiness to 
 one who made me happy. But had it been otherwise, if there 
 had been no sympathy, or prospect of sympathy, I still should 
 have married, for it was the only chance of saving you." 
 
 " Dearest sister ! Everything I have, I owe to you." 
 
 "It is not much," said Myra, "but I wish to make it 
 much. Power, in every form, and in excess, is at your dis- 
 posal if you be wise. There is a woman, I think with every 
 charm, who loves you ; her fortune may have no limit ; she is 
 a member of one of the most powerful families in England — a 
 
 Y \n 
 
386 • ENDYMIOK 
 
 noble family I may say, for my lord told me last night that Mr. 
 Neuchatel would be instantly raised to the peerage, and you 
 hesitate ! By all the misery of the past — which never can be 
 forgotten — for heaven's sake, be wise ; do not palter with such 
 a chance." 
 
 "If all be as you say, Myra, and I have no reason but your 
 word to believe it is so — if, for example, of which I never saw 
 any evidence, Mr. Neuchatel would approve, or even folerate, 
 this alHance — I have too deep and sincere a regard for his 
 daughter, founded on much kindness to both of us, to mock 
 her with the offer of a heart which she has not gained." 
 
 " You say you have a deep and sincere regard for Adri- 
 ana," said his sister. "Why, what better basis for enduring 
 happiness can there be ? You are not a man to marry for 
 romantic sentiment, and pass your life in writing sonnets to 
 your wife till you find her charms and your inspiration alike 
 exhausted; you are already wedded to the State, you have 
 been nurtured in the thoughts of great affairs from your very 
 childhood, and even in the darkest hour of our horrible ad- 
 versity. You are a man bom for power and high condition, 
 whose name in time ought to rank with those of the great 
 statesmen of the continent, the true lords of Europe. Power, 
 and power alone, should be your absorbing object, and all the 
 accidents and incidents of life should only be considered with 
 reference to that main result." 
 
 " Well, I am only five-and- twenty after all. There is time 
 yet to consider this." 
 
 " Great men should think of Opportunity, and not of Time. 
 Time is the excuse of feeble and puzzled spirits. They make 
 time the sleeping partner of their lives to accomplish what 
 ought to be achieved by their own will. In this case, there 
 certainly is no time like the present. The opportunity is un- 
 rivaled. All your friends would, without an exception, be de- 
 lighted if you now were wise." 
 
 "I hardly think my friends have given it a thought," said 
 Endymion, a little flushed. 
 
 " There is nothing that would please Lady Montfort more." 
 
 He turned pale. " How do you know that ?" he inquired. 
 
DISAPPOINTMENT. 387 
 
 " She told me so, and offered to help me in bringing about 
 the result." 
 
 **Yery kind of her ! Well, dearest Myra, you and Lord 
 Roehampton have much to think of at this anxious moment. 
 Let this matter drop. We have discussed it before, and we 
 have discussed it enough. It is more than pain for me to differ 
 from you on any point, but I can not offer to Adriana a heart 
 which belongs to another." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIIL 
 
 All the high expectations of December at Princedown were 
 doomed to disappointment ; they were a further illustration of 
 Lord Roehampton's saying, that there was no gambling like 
 politics. The leader of the opposition came up to town, but 
 he found nothing but difficulties, and a few days before Christ- 
 mas he had resigned the proffered trust. The protectionist 
 ministry were to remain in office, and to repeal the corn laws. 
 The individual who was most balked by this unexpected re- 
 sult was perhaps Lord Roehampton. He was a man who really 
 cared for nothing but office and affairs, and being advanced in 
 life, he naturally regretted a lost opportunity. But he never 
 showed his annoyance. Always playful, and even taking 
 refuge in a bantering spirit, the world seemed to go light with 
 }iim when everything was dark and everybody despondent. 
 
 The discontent or indignation which the contemplated 
 revolution in policy was calculated to excite in the Conserva- 
 tive party generally were to a certain degree neutralized for 
 the moment by mysterious and confidential communications, 
 circulated by Mr. Tadpole and the managers of the party, that 
 the change was to be accompanied by *' immense compensa- 
 tions." As Parliament was to meet as soon as convenient after 
 Christmas, and the statement of the regenerated ministry was 
 then to be made immediately, every one held his hand, as they 
 all felt the blow must be more efficient when the scheme of the 
 government was known. 
 
388 ENDYMION. 
 
 The Montforts were obliged to go to their castle, a yisit the 
 sad necessity of which the formation of a new government, at 
 one time, they had hoped might have prevented. The Eoe- 
 hamptons passed their Christmas with Mr. Sidney Wilton at 
 Gaydene, where Endymion also and many of the opposition 
 were guests. Waldershare took refuge with his friends the 
 Beaumaris, full of revenge and unceasing combinations. He 
 took down St. Barbe with him, whose services in the session 
 might be useful. There had been a little misunderstanding 
 between these two eminent personages during the late season. 
 St. Barbe was not satisfied with his position in the new journal 
 which Waldershare had established. He affected to have been 
 ill-treated and deceived, and this with a mysterious shake of the 
 head which seemed to intimate state secrets that might here- 
 after be revealed. The fact is, St. Barbe's political articles 
 were so absurd that it was impossible to print them ; but as 
 his name stood high as a clever writer on matters with which 
 he was acquainted, they permitted him, particularly as they 
 were bound to pay him a high salary, to contribute essays on 
 the social habits and opinions of the day, which he treated in a 
 happy and taking manner. St. Barbe himself had such a 
 quick perception of peculiarities, so fine a power of observa- 
 tion, and so keen a sense of the absurd, that when he revealed 
 in confidence the causes of his discontent, it was almost im- 
 possible to believe that he was entirely serious. It seems that 
 lie expected this connection with the journal in question to 
 have been, to use his own phrase, "a closet affair," and that 
 he was habitually to have been introduced by the back-stairs of 
 the palace to the presence of Royalty to receive encouragement 
 and inspiration. **I do not complain of the pay," he added, 
 " though I could get more by writing for Shuffle and Screw, 
 but I expected a decoration. However, I shall probably stand 
 for next Parliament on the principles of the Mountain, so per- 
 haps it is just as well." 
 
 Parliament soon met, and that session began which will 
 long be memorable. The "immense compensations" were no- 
 whore. Waldershare, who had only waited for this, resigned 
 his office as Under-Secretary of State. This was a bad example 
 
A NEW GOVERNMENT, 389 
 
 and a blow, but nothing compared to the resignation of his 
 great office in the Household by the Earl of Beaumaris. This 
 involved unhappily the withdrawal of Lady Beaumaris, under 
 whose bright inspiring roof the Tory party had long assembled, 
 sanguine and bold. Other considerable peers followed the prec- 
 edent of Lord Beaumaris, and withdrew their support from 
 the ministry. Waldershare moved the amendment to the first 
 reading of the obnoxious bill ; but although defeated by a 
 considerable majority, the majority was mainly formed of 
 members of the opposition. Among these was Mr. Ferrars, 
 who it was observed never opened his lips during the whole 
 session. 
 
 This was not the case with Mr. Bertie Tremaine and the 
 school of Pythagoras. The opportunity long waited for had at 
 length arrived. There was a great parliamentary connection 
 deserted by their leaders. This distinguished rank and file re- 
 quired officers. The cabinet of Mr. Bertie Tremaine was 
 readj", and at their service. Mr. Bertie Tremaine seconded the 
 amendment of Waldershare, and took the occasion of expound- 
 ing the new philosophy, which seemed to combine the princi- 
 ples of Bentham with the practice of Lord Liverpool. **I 
 offered to you this," he said reproachfully to Endymion ; '^ you 
 might have been my secretary of state. Mr. Tremaine Bertie 
 will now take it. He would rather have had an embassy, but 
 he must make the sacrifice." 
 
 The debates during the session were much carried on by 
 the Pythagoreans, who never ceased chattering. They had 
 men ready for every branch of the subject, and the debate was 
 often closed by their chief in mystical sentences, which they 
 cheered like awe-struck zealots. 
 
 The great bill was carried, but the dark hour of retribution 
 at length arrived. The ministry, though sanguine to the last 
 of success, and not without cause, were completely and igno- 
 miniously defeated. The new government, long prepared, was 
 at once formed. Lord Eoehampton again became secretary of 
 state, and he appointed Endymion to the post under him. "I 
 shall not press you unfairly," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine to En- 
 dymion, with encouraging condescension. "I wish my men 
 
390 ENDYMION, 
 
 I 
 
 for a season to comprehend what is a responsible opposition, 
 am sorry Hortensius is your solicitor-general, for I had in- 
 tended him always for my chancellor." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIV. 
 
 Very shortly after the prorogation of Parliament, an 
 incident occurred which materially affected the position of En- 
 dymion. Lord Roehampton had a serious illness. Having a 
 fine constitution, he apparently completely rallied from the 
 attack, and little was known of it by the public. The world, 
 also, at that moment, was as usual much dispersed and dis- 
 tracted; dispersed in many climes, and distracted by the 
 fatigue and hardships they annually endure, and which they 
 call relaxation. Even the colleagues of the great statesman 
 were scattered, and before they had realized that he had been 
 seriously ill, they read of him in the fulfillment of official du- 
 ties. But there was no mistake as to his state under his own 
 roof. Lord Roehampton had, throughout the later period of 
 his life, been in the habit of working at night. It was only 
 at night that he could command that abstraction necessary for 
 the consideration of great affairs. He was also a real worker. 
 He wrote his own dispatches, whenever they referred to mat- 
 ters of moment. He left to the permanent staff of his office 
 little but the fulfillment of duties which, though heavy and 
 multifarious, were duties of routine. The composition of these 
 dispatches was a source to Lord Roehampton of much gratifi- 
 cation and excitement. They were of European fame, and 
 their terse argument, their clear determination, and often their 
 happy irony, were acknowledged in all the cabinets, and duly 
 apprehended. 
 
 The physicians impressed upon Lady Roehampton that this 
 night- work must absolutely cease. A neglect of their advice 
 must lead to serious consequences ; following it, there was no 
 reason why her husband should not live for years, and continue 
 to serve the State. Lord Roehampton must leave the House 
 
TEENCHARD'8 SPEECH. 391 
 
 of Commons ; he must altogether change the order of his life ; 
 he must seek more amusement in society, and yet keep early 
 hours ; and then he would find himself fresh and vigorous in 
 the morning, and his work would rather benefit than distress 
 him. It was all an affair of habit. 
 
 Lady Roehampton threw all her energies into this matter. 
 She entertained for her lord a reverential affection, and his life 
 to her seemed a precious deposit, of which she was the trustee. 
 She succeeded where the physicians would probably have failed. 
 Toward the end of the year Lord Roehampton was called up to 
 the House of Lords for one of his baronies, and Endymion was 
 informed that when Parliament met, he would have to repre- 
 sent the Foreign Office in the House of Commons. 
 
 "VYaldershare heartily congratulated him. " You have got 
 what I most wished to have in the world ; but I will not envy 
 you, for envy is a vile passion. You have th& good fortune to 
 serve a genial chief. I had to deal with a Harley — cold, sus- 
 picious, ambiguous, pretending to be profound, and always in a 
 state of perplexity." 
 
 It was not a very agreeable session. The potato famine did 
 something more than repeal the corn laws. It proved that 
 there was no floating capital left in the country ; and when the 
 Barings and Rothschilds combined, almost as much from pub- 
 lic spirit as from private speculation, to raise a loan of a few 
 millions for the minister, they absolutely found the public 
 purse was exhausted, and had to supply the greater portion of 
 the amount from their own resources. In one of the many 
 financial debates that consequently occurred, Trenchard estab- 
 lished himself by a clear and comprehensive view of the posi- 
 tion of affairs, and by modestly reminding the house, that a 
 year ago he had predicted the present condition of things, and 
 indicated its inevitable cause. 
 
 This was the great speech on a great night, and Mr. Bertie 
 Tremaine walked home with Trenchard. It was observed that 
 Mr. Bertie Tremaine always walked home with the member 
 who had made the speech of the evening. 
 
 ''Your friends did not behave well to you," he said, in a 
 hollow voice to Trenchard. *'They ought to have made you 
 
392 BNDYMION. 
 
 Secretary of the Treasury. Think of this. It is an important 
 post, and may lead to anything ; and, so far as I am concerned, 
 it would give me real pleasure to see it." 
 
 But besides the disquietude of domestic affairs, famine and 
 failures competing in horrible catastrophe and the Bank Act 
 suspended, as the year advanced matters on the continent be- 
 came not less dark and troubled. Italy was mysteriously agi- 
 tated ; the pope announced himself a reformer ; there were 
 disturbances in Milan, Ancona, and Ferrara ; the Austrians 
 threatened the occupation of several states, and Sardinia of- 
 fered to defend His Holiness from the Austrians. In addition 
 to all this, there were reform banquets in France, a civil war 
 in Switzerland, and the King of Prussia thought it prudent to 
 present his subjects with a constitution. 
 
 The Count of Ferroll about this time made a visit to Eng- 
 land. He was always a welcome guest there, and had received 
 the greatest distinction which England could bestow upon a 
 foreigner ; he had been elected an honorary member of White's. 
 ** You may have troubles here," he said to Lady Montfort, 
 **but they will pass ; you will have mealy potatoes again and 
 plenty of bank-notes, but we shall not get off so cheaply. Ev- 
 erything is quite rotten throughout the Continent, This year 
 is tranquillity to what the next will be. There is not a throne 
 in Europe worth a year's purchase. My worthy master wants 
 me to return home and be minister : I am to fashion for him a 
 new constitution. I will never have anything to do with new 
 constitutions ; their inventors are always the first victims. In- 
 stead of making a constitution, he should make a country, and 
 convert his heterogeneous domains into a patriotic dominion." 
 
 ** But how is that to be done ? " 
 
 "There is only one way ; by blood and iron." 
 
 " My dear count, you shock me ! " 
 
 "I shall have to shock you a great deal more before the in- 
 evitable is brought about." 
 
 " Well, I am glad that there is something," said Lady 
 Montfort, " which is inevitable. I hope it will come soon. I 
 am sure this country is ruined. What with cheap bread at 
 famine prices and these railroads, we seem quite finished. I 
 
AFFAIRS BECOMING SERIOUS. 393 
 
 thought one operation was to counteract the other ; but they 
 appear both to turn out equally fatal." 
 
 Endymion had now one of those rare opportunities which, 
 if men be equal to them, greatly affect their future career. As 
 the session advanced, debates on foreign affairs became frequent 
 and deeply interesting. So far as the ministry was concerned, 
 the burden of these fell on the Under-Secretary of State. He 
 was never wanting. The House felt that he had not only the 
 adequate knowledge, but that it was knowledge perfectly di- 
 gested ; that his remarks and conduct were those of a man 
 who had given constant thought to his duties, and was master 
 of his subject. His oratorical gifts also began to be recognized. 
 The power and melody of his voice had been before remarked, 
 and that is a gift which much contributes to success in a pop- 
 ular assembly. He was ready without being too fluent. There 
 were light and shade in his delivery. He repressed his power 
 of sarcasm ; but if unjustly and inaccurately attacked, he could 
 be keen. Over his temper he had a complete control ; if, in- 
 deed, his entire insensibility to violent language on the part of 
 an opponent was not organic. All acknowledged his courtesy, 
 and both sides sympathized with a young man who proved 
 himself equal to no ordinary difficulties. In a word, Endym- 
 ion was popular, and that popularity was not diminished by 
 the fact of his being the brother of Lady Eoehampton, who 
 exercised great influence in society, and who was much be- 
 loved. 
 
 As the year advanced external affairs became daily more 
 serious, and the country congratulated itself that its interests 
 were intrusted to a minister of the experience and capacity of 
 Lord Roehampton. That statesman seemed never better than 
 when the gale ran high. Affairs in France began to assume the 
 complexion that the Count of Ferroll had prophetically an- 
 nounced. If a crash occurred in that quarter. Lord Eoehamp- 
 ton felt that all Europe might be in a blaze. Affairs were nev- 
 er more serious than at the turn of the year. Lord Eoehampton 
 told his wife that their holidays must be spent in St. James' 
 Square, for he could not leave London ; but he wished her to 
 go to Gaydene, where they had been invited by Mr. Sidney 
 
394 ENDYMION. 
 
 Wilton to pass their Christmas as usual. Nothing, however, 
 would induce her to quit his side. He seemed quite well, but 
 the pressure of affairs was extreme ; and sometimes, against all 
 her remonstrances, he was again working at night. Such re- 
 monstrances on other subjects would probably have been suc- 
 cessful, for her influence over him was extreme. But to a 
 minister responsible for the interests of a great country they 
 are vain, futile, impossible. One might as well remonstrate 
 with an oJBficer on the field of battle on the danger he was in- 
 curring. She said to him one night in his library, where she 
 paid him a little visit before she retired, " My heart, I know 
 it is no use my saying anything, and yet — ^remember your 
 promise. This night- work makes me very unhappy." 
 
 " I remember my promise, and I will try not to work at 
 night again in a hurry, but I must finish this dispatch. If I 
 did not, I could not sleep, and you know sleep is what I re- 
 quire." 
 
 "Goodnight, then." 
 
 He looked up with his winning smile, and held out his 
 lips. "Kiss me," he said, " I never felt better." 
 
 Lady Koehampton after a time slumbered ; how long she 
 knew not, but when she woke her lord was not at her side. She 
 struck a light and looked at her watch. It was past three 
 o'clock ; she jumped out of bed, and, merely in her slippers 
 and her robe de chamhre, descended to the library. It was a 
 large, long room, and Lord Roehampton worked at the ex- 
 treme end of it. The candles were nearly burned out. As she 
 approached him, she perceived that he was leaning back in his 
 chair. When she reached him, she observed he was awake, but 
 he did not seem to recognize her. A dreadful feeling came 
 over her. She took his hand. It was quite cold. Her intel- 
 lect for an instant seemed to desert her. She looked round 
 her with an air void almost of intelligence, and then rushing 
 to the bell she continued ringing it till some of the household 
 appeared. A medical man was near at hand, and in a few 
 minutes arrived, but it was a bootless visit. AU was over, and 
 all had been over, he said, "for some time." 
 
RAW CHESTER, 395 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXV. 
 
 '* Well, have you made up your government ? " asked Lady 
 Montfort of the prime minister as lie entered her boudoir. He 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Haye you seen her ? " he inquired. 
 
 *']N"o, not yet; I suppose she will see me as soon as any 
 one." 
 
 "I am told she is utterly overwhelmed." 
 
 " She was devoted to him ; it was the happiest union I ever 
 knew ; but Lady Roehampton is not the woman to be utterly 
 overwhelmed. She has too imperial a spirit for that." 
 
 "It is a great misfortune," said the prime minister. " We 
 have not been lucky since we took the reins." 
 
 "Well, there is no use in deploring. There is nobody else 
 to take the reins, so you may defy misfortunes. The question 
 now is, what are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Well, there seems to me only one thing to do. We must 
 put Rawchester there." 
 
 " Rawchester ! " exclaimed Lady Montfort, " what ^Niminy- 
 Piminy'?" 
 
 " Well, he is conciliatory," said the premier, " and if you 
 are not very clever, you should be conciliatory." 
 
 "He never knows his own mind for a week together." 
 
 " We will take care of his mind," said j:he prime minister, 
 "but he has traveled a good deal, and knows the public men." 
 
 " Yes," said Lady Montfort, " and the public men, I fear, 
 know him." 
 
 "Then he can make a good House of Lords' speech, and 
 we have a first-rate man in the Commons ; so it will do." 
 
 "I do not think your first-rate man in the House of Com- 
 mons will remain," said Lady Montfort dryly. 
 
 "You do not mean that?" said the prime minister, evi- 
 dently alarmed. 
 
 " His health is delicate," said Lady Montfort ; "had it not 
 been for his devotion to Lord Roehampton, I know he thought 
 of traveling for a couple of years." 
 
396 ENDYMION. 
 
 "Ferrars' health delicate ?" said the premier ; '' I thought 
 he was the picture of health and youthful vigor. Health is 
 one of the elements to be considered in calculating the career 
 of a public man, and I have always predicted an eminent career 
 for Fcrrars, because, in addition to his remarkable talents, he 
 had apparently such a fine constitution." 
 
 *'No health could stand working under Lord Rawchester." 
 
 ** Well, but what am I to do ? I can not make Mr. Ferrars 
 secretary of state." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 The prime minister looked considerably perplexed. Such 
 a promotion could not possibly have occurred to him. Though 
 a man of many gifts, and a statesman, he had been educated 
 in high Whig routine, and the proposition of Lady Montfort 
 was like recommending him to make a curate a bishop. 
 
 "Well," he said, "Ferrars is a very clever fellow. He is 
 our rising young man, and there is no doubt that, if his health 
 is not so delicate as you fear, he will mount high ; but though 
 our rising young man, he is a young man, much too young to 
 be a secretary of state. He wants age, larger acquaintance with 
 affairs, greater position, and more root in the country." 
 
 " What was Mr. Canning's age, who held Mr. Ferrars' office, 
 when he was made secretary of state ? and what root in the 
 country had he ? " 
 
 When tiie prime minister got back to Downing Street he 
 sent immediately for his head Whip. "Look after Ferrars," 
 he said ; "they are trying to induce him to resign office. If 
 he does our embarrassments will be extreme. Lord Rawchester 
 will be secretary of state ; send a paragraph at once to the 
 papers announcing it. But look after Ferrars, and immedi- 
 ately, and report to me." 
 
 Lord Roehampton had a large entailed estate, though his 
 affairs were always in a state of confusion. That seems almost 
 the inevitable result of being absorbed in the great business of 
 governing mankind. If there be exceptions among statesmen 
 of the highest class, they will generally be found among those 
 who have been chiefly in opposition, and so have had leisure 
 and freedom of mind sufficient to manage their estates. Lord 
 
THE HILL STREET MANSION. 397 
 
 Koehampton had, howeyer, extensiye powers of charging his 
 estate in lieu of dower, and he had employed them to their ut- 
 most extent ; so his widow was well provided for. The execu- 
 tors were Mr. Sidney Wilton and Endymion. 
 
 After a short period, Lady Roehampton saw Adriana, and 
 not very long after, Lady Montfort. They both of them, from 
 that time, were her frequent, if not constant companions, but 
 she saw no one else. Once only, since the terrible event, was 
 she seen by the world, and that was when a tall figure, shrouded 
 in the darkest attire, attended as chief mourner at the burial 
 of her lord in Westminster Abbey. She remained permanently 
 m London, not only because she had no country house, but be- 
 cause she wished to be with her brother. As time advanced 
 she frequently saw Mr. Sidney Wilton, who, being chief execu- 
 tor of the will, and charged with all her affairs, had necessarily 
 much on which to consult her. One of the greatest difficulties 
 was to provide her with a suitable residence, for, of course, she 
 was not to remain in the family mansion in St. James' Square. 
 That difficulty was ultimately overcome in a manner highly 
 interesting to her feelings. Her father's mansion in Hill Street, 
 where she had passed her prosperous and gorgeous childhood, 
 was in the market, and she was most desirous to occupy it. 
 *'It will seem like a great step toward the restoration," she 
 said to Endymion. "My plans are, that you should give up 
 the Albany, and that we should live together. I should like 
 to live together in Hill Street ; I should like to see our nursery 
 once more. The past then will be a dream, or at least all the 
 past that is disagreeable. My fortune is yours ; as we are twins, 
 it is likely that I may live as long as you do. But I wish you 
 to be the master of the house, and in time receive your friends 
 in a manner becoming your position. I do not think that 1 
 shall ever much care to go out again, but I may help you at 
 home, and then you can invite women ; a mere bachelor's 
 house is always dull." 
 
 There was one difficulty still in this arrangement. The 
 mansion in Hill Street was not to be let, it was for sale, and 
 the price naturally for such a mansion in such a situation was 
 considerable ; quite beyond the means of Lady Roehampton, 
 
398 ENDYMIOK 
 
 who had a very ample income, but no capital. This difficulty, 
 however, vanished in a moment. Mr. Sidney Wilton purchased 
 the house ; he wanted an investment, and this was an excellent 
 one ; so Lady Eoehampton became his tenant. 
 
 The change was great in the life of Myra, and she felt it 
 She loved her lord, and had cut off her beautiful hair, which 
 reached almost to her feet, and had tied it round his neck in 
 his coffin. But Myra, notwithstanding she was a woman, and 
 a woman of transcendent beauty, had never had a romance of 
 the heart. Until she married, her pride and her love for her 
 brother, which was part of her pride, had absorbed her being. 
 When she married, and particularly as time advanced, she felt 
 all the misery of her existence had been removed, and nothing 
 could exceed the tenderness and affectionate gratitude, and 
 truly unceasing devotion, which she extended to the gifted be- 
 ing to whom she owed this deliverance. But it was not in the 
 nature of things that she could experience those feelings which 
 still echo in the heights of Meilleraie, and compared with 
 which all the glittering accidents of fortune sink into insig- 
 nificance. 
 
 The year rolled on, an agitated year of general revolution. 
 Endymion himself was rarely in society, for all the time which 
 the House of Commons spared to him he wished chiefly to 
 dedicate to his sister. His brougham was always ready to take 
 him up to Hill Street for one of those somewhat hurried, but 
 amusing little dinners, which break the monotony of parlia- 
 mentary life. And sometimes he brought a companion, gen- 
 erally Mr. Wilton, and sometimes they met Lady Montfort or 
 Adriana, now ennobled as the daughter of Lord Hainault. 
 There was much to talk about, even if they did not talk about 
 themselves and their friends, for every day brought great 
 events, fresh insurrections, new constitutions, changes of dy- 
 nasties, assassinations of ministers, states of siege, evanescent 
 empires, and premature republics. 
 
 On one occasion, having previously prepared his sister, who 
 seemed not uninterested by the suggestion, Endymion brought 
 Thornberry to dine in Hill Street. There was no one else 
 present except Adriana. Job was a great admirer of Lady 
 
JOB PURCHASES EURSTLEY. 399 
 
 Roehampton, but was a little awe-struck by her. He remem- 
 bered her in her childhood, a beautiful being who never smiled. 
 She receiyed him very graciously, and after dinner, inviting 
 him to sit by her on the sofa, referred with delicacy to old 
 times. 
 
 *^ Your ladyship," said Thornberry, " would not know that 
 I live myself now at Hurstley." 
 
 '^ Indeed ! " said Myra, unaffectedly surprised. 
 
 " Well, it happened in this way ; my father now is in 
 years, and can no longer visit us as he occasionally did in Lan- 
 cashire ; so wishing to see us all, at least once more, we agreed 
 to pay him a visit. I do not know how it exactly came about, 
 but my wife took a violent fancy to the place. They all re- 
 ceived us very kindly. The good rector and his dear, kind 
 wife made it very pleasant, and the archbishop was there — 
 whom we used to call Mr. Nigel — only think I That is a won- 
 derful affair. He is not at all high and mighty, but talked 
 with us, and walked with us, just the same as in old days. He 
 took a great fancy to my boy, John Hampden, and, after all, 
 my boy is to go to Oxford, and not to Owens College, as I had 
 first intended." 
 
 " That is a great change." 
 
 " Well, I wanted him to go to Owens College, I confess, 
 but I did not care so much about Mill Hill. That was his 
 mother's fancy ; she was very strong about that. It is a Non- 
 conformist school, but I am not a Nonconformist. I do not 
 much admire dogmas, but I am a Churchman as my fathers 
 were. However, John Hampden is not to go to Mill Hill. He 
 has gone to a sort of college near Oxford, which the archbishop 
 recommended to us ; the principal, and all the tutors are cler- 
 gymen — of course of our Church. My wife is quite delighted 
 with it all." 
 
 "Well, that is a good thing." 
 
 "And so," continued Thornberry, "she got it into her 
 head she should like to live at Hurstley, and I took the 
 place. I am afraid I have been foolish enough to lay out a 
 great deal of money there — for a place not my own. Your 
 ladyship would not know the old hall. I have, what they call. 
 
400 ENDYMION. 
 
 restored it, and upon my word, except the new hall of the 
 Cloth- workers' Company, where I dined the other day, I do 
 not know anything of the kind that is prettier." 
 
 " The dear old hall I" murmured Lady Koehampton. 
 
 In time, though no one mentioned it, everybody thought 
 that if an alliance ultimately took place between Lady Koe- 
 hampton and Mr. Sidney Wilton, it would be the most natural 
 thing in the world, and everybody would approve it. True, 
 he was her father's friend, and much her senior, but then he 
 was still good-looking, very clever, very much considered and 
 lord of a large estate, and at any rate he was a younger man 
 than her late husband. 
 
 When these thoughts became more rife in society, and be- 
 gan to take the form of speech, the year was getting old, and 
 this reminds us of a little incident which took place many 
 months previously, at the beginning of the year, and which we 
 ought to record. 
 
 Shortly after the death of Lord Roehampton, Prince Flo- 
 restan called one morning in St. James' Square. He said he 
 would not ask Lady Roehampton to see him, but he was obliged 
 suddenly to leave England, and he did not like to depart with- 
 out personally inquiring after her. He left a letter, and a little 
 packet. And the letter ran thus : 
 
 "I am obliged, madam, to leave England suddenly, and it 
 is probable that we shall never meet again. I should be happy 
 if I had your prayers ! This little jewel enclosed belonged to 
 my mother, the Queen Agrippina. She told me that I was 
 never to part with it except to somebody I loved as much as 
 herself. There is only one person in the world to whom I owe 
 affection. It is to her who from the first was always kind to 
 me, and who, through dreary years of danger and anxiety, has 
 been the charm and consolation of the life of 
 
 "FLOKESTAIf." 
 
FRINGE FLORESTAN'S INVASION. 401 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVI. 
 
 Ok the evening of the day on which Prince Flore stan per- 
 sonally left the letter with Lady Roehampton, he quitted Lon- 
 don with the Duke of St. Angelo and his aides-de-camp, and, 
 embarking in his steam yacht, which was lying at Southamp- 
 ton, quitted England. They pursued a prosperous course for 
 about a week, when they passed through the Straits of Gibral- 
 tar, and, not long afterward, cast anchor in a small and solitary 
 bay. There the prince and his companions, and half a dozen 
 servants, well armed and in military attire, left the yacht, and 
 proceeded on foot into the country for a short distance, when 
 they arrived at a large farm-house. Here, it was evident, they 
 were expected. Men came forward with many horses, and 
 mounted, and accompanied the party which had arrived. They 
 advanced about ten miles, and halted as they were approach- 
 ing a small but fortified town. 
 
 The prince sent the Duke of St. Angelo forward to an- 
 nounce his arrival to the governor, and to require him to sur- 
 render. The governor, however, refused, and ordered the gar- 
 rison to fire on the invaders. This they declined to do ; the 
 governor, with many ejaculations, and stamping with rage, 
 broke his sword, and the prince entered the town. He was 
 warmly received, and the troops, amounting to about twelve 
 hundred men, placed themselves at his disposal. The prince 
 remained at this town only a couple of hours, and at the head 
 of his forces advanced into the country. At a range of hills he 
 halted, sent out reconnoitering parties, and pitched his camp. 
 In the morning, the Marquis of Vallombrosa, with a large 
 party of gentlemen well mounted, arrived, and were warmly 
 greeted. The prince learned from them that the news of his 
 invasion had reached the governor of the province, who was at 
 one of the most considerable cities of the kingdom, with a 
 population exceeding two hundred thousand, and with a mili- 
 tary division for its garrison. *^They will not wait for our 
 arrival," said Vallombrosa, "but, trusting to their numbers, 
 will come out and attack us." 
 
402 ENDYMIOK 
 
 The news of the scouts being that the mountain passes were 
 quite unoccupied by the enemy, the prince determined instant- 
 ly to continue his advance, and take up a strong position on 
 the other side of the range, and await his fate. The passage 
 was well effected, and on the fourth day of the invasion the 
 advanced guard of the enemy were in sight. The prince com- 
 manded that no one should attend him, but alone and tying a 
 white handkerchief round his sword, he galloped up to the 
 hostile lines, and said in a clear, loud voice, " My men, this is 
 the sword of my father ! " 
 
 **Florestan for ever," was the only and universal reply. 
 The cheers of the advanced guard reached and were reechoed 
 by the main body. The commander-in-chief, bareheaded, 
 came up to give in his allegiance and receive his majesty's 
 orders. They were for immediate progress, and at the head of 
 the army which had been sent out to destroy him, Florestan 
 in due course entered the enthusiastic city which recognized 
 him as its sovereign. The city was illuminated, and he went 
 to the opera in the evening. The singing was not confined to 
 the theatre. During the whole night the city itself was one 
 song of joy and triumph, and that night no one slept. 
 
 After this there was no trouble and no delay. It was a 
 triumphal march. Every town opened its gates, and devoted 
 municipalities proffered golden keys. Every village sent forth 
 its troop of beautiful maidens, scattering roses, and singing 
 the national anthem which had been composed by Queen 
 Agrippina. On the tenth day of the invasion King Flores- 
 tan, utterly unopposed, entered the magnificent capital of his 
 realm, and slept in the purple bed which had witnessed his 
 princely birth. 
 
 Among all the strange revolutions of this year, this adven- 
 ture of Florestan was not the least interesting to the English 
 people. Although society had not smiled on him, he had 
 always been rather a favorite with the bulk of the population. 
 His fine countenance, his capital horsemanship, his graceful 
 bow that always won a heart, his youth, and love of sport, his 
 English education, and the belief that he was sincere in his 
 regard for the country where he had been so long a guest, were 
 
LOOKING FOR A QUEEN, 403 
 
 elements of popularity that, particularly now he was success- 
 ful, were unmistakable. And certainly Lady Roehampton, in 
 her solitude, did not disregard his career or conduct. They 
 were naturally often in her thoughts, for there was scarcely a 
 day in which his name did not figure in the newspapers, and 
 always in connection with matters of general interest and con- 
 cern. The government he established was liberal, but it was 
 discreet, and though conciliatory, firm. "If he declares for 
 the English alliance," said Waldershare, "he is safe ; " and he 
 did declare for the English alliance, and the English people 
 were very pleased by his declaration, which in their apprehen- 
 sion meant national progress, the amelioration of society, and 
 increased exports. 
 
 The main point, however, which interested his subjects was 
 his marriage. That was both a difficult and a delicate matter 
 to decide. The great continental dynasties looked with some 
 jealousy and suspicion on him, and the small reigning houses, 
 who were all allied with the great continental dynasties, thought 
 it prudent to copy their example. All these reigning families, 
 whether large or small, were themselves in a perplexed and 
 alarmed position at this period, very disturbed about their 
 present, and very doubtful about their future. At last it was 
 understood that a Princess of Saxe-Babel, though allied with 
 royal and imperial houses, might share the diadem of a success- 
 ful adventurer, and then in time, and when it had been suffi- 
 ciently reiterated, paragraphs appeared unequivocally contra- 
 dicting the statement, followed with agreeable assurances that 
 it was unlikely that a Princess of Saxe-Babel, allied with royal 
 and imperial houses, should unite herself to a parvenu monarch, 
 however powerful. Then in turn these articles were stigma- 
 tized as libels, and entirely unauthorized, and no less a person- 
 age than a princess of the house of Saxe-Genesis was talked of 
 as the future queen ; but on referring to the " Almanach de 
 Gotha," it was discovered, that family had been extinct since 
 the first French Revolution. So it seemed at last that nothing 
 was certain, except that his subjects were very anxious that 
 King Florestan should present them with a queen. 
 
404 END YM I OK 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVII. 
 
 As time flew on, the friends of Lady Eoehampton thought, 
 and spoke, with anxiety about her reentrance into society. Mr. 
 Sidney Wilton had lent Gaydene to her for the autumn, when 
 he always visited Scotland, and the winter had passed away 
 uninterruptedly, at a charming and almost unknown watering- 
 place, where she seemed the only yisitant, and where she wan- 
 dered about in silence on the sands. The time was fast ap- 
 proaching when the inevitable year of seclusion would expire, 
 and Lady Eoehampton gave no indication of any change in her 
 life and habits. At length, after many appeals, and expostu- 
 lations, and entreaties, and little scenes, the second year of the 
 widowhood having advanced some months, it was decided that 
 Lady Eoehampton should reenter society, and the occasion on 
 which this was to take place was no mean one. 
 
 Lady Montfort was to give a ball early in June, and royalty 
 itself was to be her guests. The entertainments at Montfort 
 House were always magnificent, but this was to exceed accus- 
 tomed splendor. All the world was to be there, and all the 
 world, who were not invited, were in as much despair as if 
 they had lost their fortune or their character. 
 
 Lady Eoehampton had a passion for light, provided the 
 light was not supplied by gas or oil. Her saloons, even when 
 alone, were always brilliantly illuminated. She held that the 
 moral effect of such a circumstance on her temperament was 
 beneficial, and not slight. It is a rare, but by no means a sin- 
 gular, belief. When she descended into her drawing-rooms on 
 the critical night, its resplendence was some preparation for 
 the scene which awaited her. She stood for a moment before 
 the tall mirror which reflected her whole person. What were 
 her thoughts ? What was the impression that the fair vision 
 conveyed ? 
 
 Her countenance was grave, but it was not sad. Myra had 
 now completed, or was on the point of completing, her thirti- 
 eth year. She was a woman of transcendent beauty ; perhaps 
 she might justly be described as the most beautiful woman 
 
THE DUKE OF ST, ANGELO. 405 
 
 then alive. Time had even improved her commanding mien, 
 the graceful sweep of her figure and the voluptuous undulation 
 of her shoulders ; but time also had spared those charms which 
 are more incidental to early youth, the splendor of her com- 
 plexion, the whiteness of her teeth, and the luster of her violet 
 eyes. She had cut off in her grief the profusion of her dark 
 chestnut locks, that once reached to her feet, and she wore her 
 hair as, what was then and perhaps is now called, a crop, but 
 it was luxuriant in natural quantity and rich in color, and 
 most effectively set off her arched brow, and the oval of her 
 fresh and beauteous cheek. The crop was crowned to-night 
 by a coronet of brilliants. 
 
 ** Your carriage is ready, my lady," said a servant ; *'but 
 there is a gentleman below who has brought a letter for your 
 ladyship, and which, he says, he must personally deliver to 
 you, madam. I told him your ladyship was going out and 
 could not see him, but he put his card in this envelope, and 
 requested that I would hand it to you, madam. He says he 
 will only deliver the letter to your ladyship, and not detain 
 you a moment." 
 
 Lady Roehampton opened the envelope, and read the card, 
 " The Duke of St. Angelo." 
 
 " The Duke of St. Angelo," she murmured to herself, and 
 looked for a moment abstracted. Then turning to the servant, 
 said, " He must be shown up." 
 
 *^ Madam," said the duke as he entered, and bowed with 
 much ceremony, " I am ashamed of appearing to be an intru- 
 der, but my commands were to deliver this letter to your lady- 
 ship immediately on my arrival, whatever the hour. I have 
 only this instant arrived. We had a bad passage. I know 
 your ladyship's carriage is at the door. I will redeem my 
 pledge and not trespass on your time for one instant. If your 
 ladyship requires me, I am ever at your command." 
 
 "At Carlton Gardens ?" 
 
 " No ; at our embassy." 
 
 " His majesty, I hope, is well ?" 
 
 " In every sense, my lady," and bowing to the ground the 
 duke withdrew. 
 
406 EN DY MI ON, 
 
 She broke the seal of the letter while still standing, and 
 lield it to a sconce that was on the mantel-piece, and then 
 she read : 
 
 " You were the only person I called upon when I suddenly 
 left England. I had no hope of seeing you, but it was the 
 homage of gratitude and adoration. Great events have hap- 
 pened since we last met. I have realized my dreams, dreams 
 which I sometimes fancied you, and you alone, did not depre- 
 ciate or discredit, and, in the sweetness of your charity, would 
 not have been sorry were they accomplished. 
 
 " I have established what I believe to be a strong and just 
 government in a great kingdom. I have not been uninfluenced 
 by the lessons of wisdom I gained in your illustrious land. I 
 have done some things which it was a solace for me to believe 
 you would not altogether disapprove. 
 
 " My subjects are anxious that the dynasty I have reestab- 
 lished should not be evanescent. Is it too bold to hope that I 
 may find a companion in you to charm and to counsel me ? I 
 can offer you nothing equal to your transcendent merit, but I 
 can offer you the heart and the throne of 
 
 "Flokestan." 
 
 Still holding the letter in one hand, she looked around as 
 if some one might be present. Her cheek was scarlet, and 
 there was for a moment an expression of wildness in her glance. 
 Then she paced the saloon with an agitated step, and then she 
 read the letter again and again, and still she paced the saloon. 
 The whole history of her life revolved before her ; every scene, 
 every character, every thought, and sentiment, and passion. 
 The brightness of her nursery days, and Hiirstley with all its 
 miseries, and Hainault with its gardens, and the critical hour, 
 which had opened to her a future of such unexpected luster 
 and happiness. 
 
 The clock had struck more than once during this long and 
 terrible soliloquy, wherein she had to search and penetrate her 
 inmost heart, and now it struck two. She started, and hur- 
 riedly rang the belL 
 
SIDNEY WILTON AGITATED. 407 
 
 " I shall not want the carriage to-night," she said, and 
 when again alone, she sat down and, burying her face in her 
 alabaster arms, for a long time remained motionless. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVIIL 
 
 Had he been a youth about to make a debut in the great 
 world, Sidney Wilton could not have been more agitated than 
 he felt at the prospect of the fete at Montfort House. Lady 
 Roehampton, after nearly two years of retirement, was about 
 to reenter society. During this interval she had not been 
 estranged from him. On the contrary, he had been her fre- 
 quent and customary companion. Except Adriana, and Lady 
 Montfort, and her brother, it might almost be said, her only 
 one. Why then was he agitated ? He had been living in a 
 dream for two years, cherishing wild thoughts of exquisite 
 happiness. He would have been content, had the dream never 
 been disturbed ; but this return to hard and practical life of 
 her whose unconscious witchery had thrown a spell over his 
 existence, roused him to the reality of his position, and it was 
 one of terrible emotion. 
 
 During the life of her husband, Sidney Wilton had been 
 the silent adorer of Myra. With every accomplishment and 
 every advantage that are supposed to make life delightful — 
 a fine countenance, a noble mien, a manner natural and at- 
 tractive, an ancient lineage, and a vast estate — he was the 
 favorite of society, who did more than justice to his talents, 
 which, though not brilliant, were considerable, and who could 
 not too much appreciate the high tone of his mind ; his gen- 
 erosity, and courage, and true patrician spirit which inspired 
 all his conduct, and guided him ever to do that which was 
 liberal, and gracious, and just. 
 
 There was only one fault which society found in Sidney 
 Wilton; he would not marry. This was provoking, because 
 he was the man of all others who ought to marry, and make a 
 heroine happy. Society did not give it up till he was forty. 
 
408 EN DY MI ON. 
 
 about the time he became acquainted with Lady Roehampton ; 
 and that incident threw no light on his purposes or motives, 
 for he was as discreet as he was devoted, and Myra herself was 
 unconscious of his being anything to her save the dearest friend 
 of her father, and the most cherished companion of her husband. 
 
 When one feels deeply, one is apt to act suddenly, perhaps 
 rashly. There are moments in life when suspense can be borne 
 no longer. And Sidney Wilton, who had been a silent votary 
 for more than ten years, now felt that the slightest delay in 
 his fate would be intolerable. It was the ball at Montfort 
 House that should be the scene of this decision of destiny. 
 
 She was about to reenter society, radiant as the mom, amid 
 flowers and music, and all the accidents of social splendor. 
 His sympathetic heart had been some solace to her in her sor- 
 row and her solitude. Now, in the joyous blaze of life, he was 
 resolved to ask her whether it were impossible that they should 
 never again separate, and in the crowd, as well as when alone, 
 feel their mutual devotion. 
 
 Mr. Wilton was among those who went early to Montfort 
 House, which was not his wont ; but he was restless and dis- 
 quieted. She could hardly have arrived ; but there would be 
 some there who would speak of her. That was a great thing. 
 Sidney Wilton had arrived at that state when conversation can 
 only interest on one subject. When a man is really in love, he 
 is disposed to believe that, like himself, everybody is thinking 
 of the person who engrosses his brain and heart. 
 
 The magnificent saloons, which in half an hour would be 
 almost impassable, were only sprinkled with guests, who, how- 
 ever, were constantly arriving. Mr. Wilton looked about him 
 in vain for the person whom he was quite sure could not then 
 be present. He lingered by the side of Lady Montfort, who 
 bowed to those who came, but who could spare few consecutive 
 words, even to Mr. Wilton, for her watchful eye expected every 
 moment to be summoned to descend her marble staircase and 
 receive her royal guests. 
 
 The royal guests arrived ; there was a grand stir, and many 
 gracious bows, and some cordial, but dignified, shake-hands. 
 The rooms were crowded ; yet space in the ball-room was well 
 
DISPIRIimG THOUGHTS. 409 
 
 preseryed, so that the royal vision might range with facility, 
 from its golden chairs to the beauteous beings, and still more 
 beautiful costumes, displaying with fervent loyalty their fasci- 
 nating charms. 
 
 There was a new band to-night, that had come from some 
 distant but celebrated capital ; musicians known by fame to 
 everybody, but whom nobody had ever heard. They played 
 wonderfully on instruments of new invention, and divinely 
 upon old ones. It was impossible that anything could be more 
 gay and inspiriting than their silver bugles, and their carillons 
 of tinkling bells. 
 
 They found an echo in the heart of Sidney Wilton, who, 
 seated near the entrance of the ball-room, watched every arrival 
 with anxious expectation. But the anxiety vanished for a 
 moment under the influence of the fantastic and frolic strain. 
 It seemed a harbinger of happiness and joy. He fell into a 
 reverie, and wandered with a delightful companion in castles 
 of perpetual sunshine, and green retreats, and pleasant terraces. 
 
 But the lady never came. 
 
 Then the strain changed. There happened to be about 
 this time a truly diabolic opera much in vogue, with unearthly 
 choruses, and dances of fiendish revelry. These had been skill- 
 fully adapted and introduced by the musicians, converting a 
 dark and tragic theme into wild and grotesque merriment. 
 But they could not succeed in diverting the mind of one of 
 their audience from the character of the original composition. 
 Dark thoughts and images fell upon the spirit of Sidney Wil- 
 ton ; his hope and courage left him. He almost felt he could 
 not execute to-night the bold purpose he had brooded over. 
 He did not feel in good fortune. There seemed some demon 
 gibbering near him, and he was infinitely relieved, like a man 
 released from some mesmeric trance, when the music ceased, 
 the dance broke up, and he found himself surrounded, not by 
 demons, but the usual companions of his daily life. 
 
 But the lady never came. 
 
 *' Where can your sister be ?" said Lady Montfort to En- 
 dymion. " She promised me to come early ; something must 
 have happened. Is she ill ? " 
 
 18 
 
410 ENDTMION. 
 
 *' Quite well ; I saw her before I left Hill Street. She 
 wished me to come alone, as she would not be here early." 
 
 ** I hope she will be in time for the royal supper table ; I 
 quite count on her." 
 
 " She is sure to be here." 
 
 Lord Hainault was in earnest conversation with Baron Ser- 
 gius, now the minister of King Florestan at the Court of St. 
 James'. It was a wise appointment, for Sergius knew inti- 
 mately all the English statesmen of eminence, and had known 
 them for many years. They did not look upon him as the 
 mere representative of a revolutionary and parvenu sovereign ; 
 he was quite one of themselves, had graduated at the Congress 
 of Vienna, and, it was believed, had softened many subsequent 
 difficulties by his sagacity. He had always been a cherished 
 guest at Apsley House, and it was known the great duke often 
 consulted him. "As long as Sergius sways his councils, He 
 will indulge in no adventures," said Europe. "As long as 
 Sergius remains here, the English alliance is safe," said Eng- 
 land. After Europe and England, the most important confi- 
 dence to obtain was that of Lord Hainault, and Baron Sergius 
 had been not unsuccessful in that respect. 
 
 " Your master has only to be liberal and steady," said Lord 
 Hainault, with his accustomed genial yet half-sarcastic smile, 
 " and he may have anything he likes. But we do not want any 
 wars ; they are not liked in the City." 
 
 " Our policy is peace," said Sergius. 
 
 "I think we ought to congratulate Sir Peter," said Mr. 
 Waldershare to Adriana, with whom he had been dancing, and 
 whom he was leading back to Lady Hainault. " Sir Peter, here 
 is a lady who wishes to congratulate you on your deserved ele- 
 vation." 
 
 "Well, I do not know what to say about it," said the for- 
 mer Mr. Vigo, highly gratified, but a little confused ; " my 
 friends would have it." 
 
 "Ay, ay," said Waldershare, " 'at the request of friends ;' 
 the excuse I gave for publishing my sonnets." And then, ad- 
 vancing, he delivered his charge to her chaperon, who looked 
 dreamy, abstracted, and uninterested. 
 
JOB'S INVITATION. 411 
 
 ^' We have just been congratulating the new baronet, Sir 
 Peter Vigo," said Waldershare, 
 
 '' Ah ! " said Lady Hainault with a contemptuous sigh, '' he 
 is, at any rate, not obliged to change his name. The desire to 
 change one's name does indeed appear to me to be a singular 
 folly. If your name had been disgraced, I could understand 
 it, as I could understand a man then going about in a mask. 
 But the odd thing is, the persons who always want to change 
 their names are those whose names are the most honored." 
 
 ^^ Oh, you are here ! " said Mr. St. Barbe acidly to Mr. Sey- 
 mour Hicks. " I think you are everywhere. I suppose they will 
 make you a baronet next. Have you seen the batch ? I could 
 not believe my eyes when I read it. I believe the government 
 is demented. Not a single literary man among them. Not that 
 I wanted their baronetcy. Nothing would have tempted me to 
 accept one. But there is Gushy ; he, I know, would have liked 
 it. I must say I feel for Gushy ; his works only selling half 
 what they did, and then thrown over in this insolent manner ! " 
 
 "Gushy is not in society," said Mr. Seymour Hicks in a 
 solemn tone of contemptuous pity. 
 
 *^ That is society," said St. Barbe as he received a bow of 
 haughty grace from Mrs. Rodney, who, fascinating and fasci- 
 nated, was listening to the enamored murmurs of an individ- 
 ual with a very bright star and a very red ribbon. 
 
 "I dined with the Rodneys yesterday," said Mr. Seymour 
 Hicks ; "they do the thing well." 
 
 "You dined there!" exclaimed St. Barbe. "It is very 
 odd, they have never asked me. Not that I would have accept- 
 ed their invitation. I avoid parvenus. They are too fidgety 
 for my taste. I require repose, and only dine with the old 
 nobility. " 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIX. 
 
 The Right Honorable Job Thornberry and Mrs. Thornberry 
 had received an invitation to the Montfort ball. Job took up 
 the card, and turned it over more than once, and looked at it 
 
412 ENDYMIOK 
 
 as if it were some strange animal, with an air of pleased and 
 yet cynical perplexity ; then he shrugged his shoulders and 
 murmured to himself, " No ; I don't think that will do. Be- 
 sides, I must be at Hurstley by that time." 
 
 Going to Hurstley now was not so formidable an affair as 
 it was in Endymion's boyhood. Then the journey occupied a 
 whole and wearisome day. Little Hurstley had become a busy 
 station of the great Slap-Bang railway, and a dispatch train 
 landed you at the bustling and flourishing hostelry, our old 
 and humble friend, the Horse Shoe, within the two hours. It 
 was a rate that satisfied even Thornberry, and almost recon- 
 ciled him to the too frequent presence of his wife and family 
 at Hurstley, a place to which Mrs. Thornberry had, it would 
 seem, become passionately attached. 
 
 " There is a charm about the place I must say," said Job to 
 himself, as he reached his picturesque home on a rich summer 
 evening ; " and yet I hated it as a boy. To be sure, I was then 
 discontented and unhappy, and now I have every reason to be 
 much the reverse. Our feelings affect even scenery. It cer- 
 tainly is a pretty place ; I really think one of the prettiest 
 places in England." 
 
 Job was cordially welcomed. His wife embraced him, and 
 the younger children clung to him with an affection which was 
 not diminished by the remembrance that their father never 
 visited them with empty hands. His eldest son, a good-look- 
 ing and well-grown stripling, just home for the holidays, stood 
 apart, determined to show he was a man of the world, and 
 superior to the weakness of domestic sensibility. When the 
 hubbub was a little over, he advanced and shook hands with 
 his father with a certain dignity. 
 
 *'And when did you arrive, my boy ? I was looking up 
 your train in Bradshaw as I came along. I made out you 
 should get the branch at Culvers Gate." 
 
 *'I drove over," replied the son ; "I and a friend of mine 
 drove tandem, and I'll bet we got here sooner than we should 
 have done by the branch." 
 
 " Hem ! " said Job Thornberry. 
 
 "Job," said Mrs. Thornberry, **I have made two engage- 
 
TEA AT THE RECTORY. 413 
 
 ments for you this eyening. First, we will go and see your 
 father, and then we are to drink tea at the rectory." 
 
 *'Hem ! " said Job Thornberry ; "well, I would rather the 
 first evening should have been a quiet one ; but let it be so." 
 
 The visit to the father was kind, dutiful, and wearisome. 
 There was not a single subject on which the father and son had 
 thoughts in common. The conversation of the father took 
 various forms of expressing his wonder that his son had become 
 what he was, and the son could only smile, and turn the sub- 
 ject, by asking after the produce of some particular field that 
 had been prolific or obstinate in old days. Mrs. Thornberry 
 looked absent and was thinking of the rectory ; the grandson 
 who had accompanied them was silent and supercilious ; and 
 everybody felt relieved when Mrs. Thornberry, veiling her 
 impatience by her fear of keeping her father-in-law up late, 
 made a determined move and concluded the domestic cere- 
 mony. 
 
 The rectory afforded a lively contrast to the late scene. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Penruddock were full of intelligence and anima- 
 tion. Their welcome of Mr. Thornberry was exactly what it 
 ought to have been ; respectful, even somewhat deferential, 
 but cordial and unaffected. They conversed on all subjects, 
 public and private, and on both seemed equally well informed, 
 for they not only read more than one newspaper, but Mrs. 
 Penruddock had an extensive correspondence, the conduct of 
 which was one of the chief pleasures and excitements of her 
 life. Their tea-equipage too was a picture of abundance and 
 refinement. Such pretty china, and such various and delicious 
 cates ! White bread, and brown bread, and plum cakes, and 
 seed cakes, and no end of cracknels, and toasts, dry or but- 
 tered. Mrs. Thornberry seemed enchanted and gushing with 
 affection — everybody was dear or dearest. Even the face of 
 John Hampden beamed with condescending delight as he de- 
 voured a pyramid of dainties. 
 
 Just before the tea-equipage was introduced Mrs. Penrud- 
 dock rose from her seat and whispered something to Mrs. 
 Thornberry, who seemed pleased, and agitated, and a little 
 blushing, and then their hostess addressed Job and said, *' I 
 
4U ENDYMIOK 
 
 was mentioning to your wife that the archbishop was here, and 
 that I hope you would not dislike meeting him." 
 
 And very shortly after this, the archbishop, who had been 
 taking a village walk, entered the room. It was evident that 
 he was intimate with the occupiers of Hurstley Hall. He ad- 
 dressed Mrs. Thornberry with the ease of habitual acquaint- 
 ance, while John Hampden seemed almost to rush into his 
 ai-ms. Job himself had seen his grace in London, though he 
 had never had the opportunity of speaking to him, but yielded 
 to his cordiality, when the archbishop, on his being named, 
 said, " It is a pleasure to meet an old friend, and in times past 
 a kind one." 
 
 It was a most agreeable evening. The archbishop talked 
 to every one, but never seemed to engross the conversation. 
 He talked to the ladies of gardens, and cottages, and a little 
 of books, seemed deeply interested in the studies and progress 
 of the grandson, Thornberry, who evidently idolized him; 
 and in due course his grace was engaged in economical specu- 
 lations with Job himself, who was quite pleased to find a priest 
 as liberal and enlightened as he was able and thoroughly in- 
 formed. An hour before midnight, they separated, though 
 the archbishop attended them to the hall. 
 
 Mrs. Thornberry's birthday was near at hand, which Job 
 always commemorated with a gift. It had commenced with 
 some severe offering, like "Paradise Lost," then it fell into 
 the gentler form of Tennyson, and, of late, unconsciously un- 
 der the influence of his wife, it had taken the shape of a brace- 
 let or a shawl. 
 
 This evening, as he was rather feeling his way as to what 
 might please her most, Mrs. Thornberry embracing him, and 
 hiding her face on his breast, murmured: **Do not give me 
 any jewel, dear Job. What I should like, would be that you 
 should restore the chapel here." 
 
 " Restore the chapel here ! oh, oh ! " said Job Thornberry, 
 
THE CEAPEL, 415 
 
 CHAPTER XC. 
 
 The archbishop called at Hurstley House the next day. It 
 was a visit to Mr, Thornberry, but all the family was soon 
 present, and clustered round the visitor. Then they walked 
 together in the gardens, which had become radiant under the 
 taste and unlimited expenditure of Mrs. Thornberry ; beds 
 glowing with color or rivaling mosaics, choice conifers with 
 their green or purple fruit, and rare roses with their fanciful 
 and beauteous names ; one, by the bye, named *' Mrs. Pcnrud- 
 dock," and a very gorgeous one, ** The Archbishop." 
 
 As they swept along the terraces, restored to their pristine 
 comeliness, and down the green avenues bounded by copper 
 beeches and ancient yews, where men were sweeping away every 
 leaf and twig that had fallen in the night and marred the con- 
 summate order, it must have been difficult for the Archbishop 
 of Tyre not to recall the days gone by, when this brilliant and 
 finished scene, then desolate and neglected, the abode of beauty 
 and genius, yet almost of penury, had been to him a world of 
 deep and familiar interest. Yes, he was walking in the same 
 glade where he had once pleaded his own cause with an elo- 
 quence which none of his most celebrated sermons had excelled. 
 Did he think of this ? If he did, it was only to wrench the 
 thought from his memory. Archbishops who are yet young, 
 who are resolved to be cardinals, and who may be popes, are 
 superior to all human weakness. 
 
 '^I should like to look at your chapel," said his grace to 
 Mr. Thornberry ; "I remember it a lumber-room, and used to 
 mourn over its desecration." 
 
 "I never was in it," said Job, "andean not understand 
 why my wife is so anxious about it as she seems to be. "When 
 we first went to London, she always sat under the Reverend 
 Socinus Frost, and seemed very satisfied. I have heard him ; 
 a sensible man — ^but sermons are not much in my way, and I 
 do not belong to his sect, or indeed any other." 
 
 However, they went to the chapel all the same, for Mrs. 
 Thornberry was resolved on the visit. It was a small cham- 
 
416 ENDTMIOK 
 
 ber, but beautifully proportioned, like the mansion itself — of a 
 blended Italian and gothic style. The roof was flat, but had 
 been richly gilt and painted, and was sustained by corbels of 
 angels, divinely carved. There had been some pews in the 
 building ; some had fallen to pieces, and some remained, but 
 these were not in the original design. The sacred table had 
 disappeared, but two saintly statues, sculptured in black oak, 
 seemed still to guard the spot which it had consecrated. 
 
 "I wonder what became of the communion table? "said 
 Job. 
 
 ** Oh ! my dear father, do not call it a communion table," 
 exclaimed John Hampden, pettishly. 
 
 " Why, what should I call it, my boy ? " 
 
 '' The altar." 
 
 *' Why, what does it signify what we call it ? The thing 
 is the same." 
 
 ** Ah ! " exclaimed the young gentleman, in a tone of con- 
 temptuous enthusiasm, *4t is all the difference in the world. 
 There should be a stone altar and a reredos. We have put up a 
 reredos in our chapel at Bradley. All the fellows subscribed ; 
 I gave a sovereign." 
 
 **Well, I must say," said the archbishop, who had been 
 standing in advance with Mrs. Thornberry and the children, 
 while this brief and becoming conversation was taking place be- 
 tween father and son, "I think you could hardly do a better 
 thing than restore this chapel, Mr. Thornberry, but there must 
 be no mistake about it. It must be restored to the letter, and 
 it is a style that is not commonly understood. I have a friend, 
 however, who is master of it, the most rising man in his pro- 
 fession, as far as church architecture is concerned, and I will get 
 him just to run down and look at this, and if, as I hope, you 
 resolve to restore it, rest assured he will do you justice, and 
 you will be proud of your place of worship." 
 
 "I do not care how much we spend on our gardens," said 
 Job, **for they are transitory pleasures, and we enjoy what we 
 produce ; but why I should restore a chapel in a house which 
 does not belong to myself is not so clear to me. " 
 
 ** But it should belong to yourself," rejoined the archbishop. 
 
AN IMPORTANT LETTER. 41T 
 
 ^* Hurstley is not in the market, but it is to be purchased. 
 Take it altogether, I have always thought it one of the most 
 enviable possessions in the world. The house, when put in 
 order, would be one of the ornaments of the kingdom. The 
 acreage, though considerable, is not overwhelming, and there 
 is a range of wild country of endless charm. I wandered about 
 it in my childhood and my youth, and I have never known 
 anything equal to it. Then as to the soil and all that, you 
 know it. You are a son of the soil. You left it for great ob- 
 jects, and you have attained those objects. They have given 
 you fame as well as fortune. There would be something won- 
 derfully dignified and graceful in returning to the land after 
 you have taken the principal part in solving the difficulties 
 which pertained to it, and emancipating it from many 
 perils." 
 
 "I am sure it would be the happiest day of my life, if Job 
 would purchase Hurstley," said Mrs. Thornberry. 
 
 ** I should like to go to Oxford, and my father purchase 
 Hurstley," said the young gentleman. " If we have not landed 
 property, I would sooner have* none. If we have not land, I 
 should like to go into the Church, and if I may not go to Ox- 
 ford, I would go to Cuddesdon at once. I know it can be done, 
 for I know a fellow who has done it. " 
 
 Poor Job Thornberry ! He had ruled multitudes, and had 
 conquered and commanded senates. His Sovereign had made 
 him one of her privy councilors, and half a million of people 
 had returned him their representative to Parliament. And 
 here he stood silent, and a little confused ; sapped by his wife, 
 bullied by his son, and after having passed a great part of his 
 life in denouncing sacerdotalism, finding his whole future ca- 
 reer chalked out, without himself being consulted, by a priest 
 who was so polite, sensible, and so truly friendly, that his man- 
 ner seemed to deprive its victims of every faculty of retort or 
 repartee. Still he was going to say something when the door 
 opened, and Mrs. Penruddock appeared, exclaiming in a cheer- 
 ful voice, '^I thought I should find you here. I would not 
 have troubled your grace, but this letter marked ' private, im- 
 mediate, and to be forwarded,' has been wandering about for 
 
418 ENDYMIOK 
 
 some time, and I thought it was better to bring it to you at 
 once." 
 
 The Archbishop of Tyre took the letter, and seemed to start 
 as he read the direction. Then he stood aside, opened it, and 
 read its contents. The letter was from Lady Roehampton, de- 
 siring to see him as soon as possible on a matter of the utmost 
 gravity, and entreating him not to delay his departure, wher- 
 ever he might be. 
 
 "I am sorry to quit you all," said his grace ; "but I must 
 go up to town immediately. The business is urgent." 
 
 CHAPTER XCI. 
 
 Endymioi^ arrived at home very late from the Montfort 
 ball, and rose in consequence at an unusually late hour. He 
 had taken means to become sufficiently acquainted with the 
 cause of his sister's absence the night before, so he had no anx- 
 iety on that head. Lady Roehampton had really intended to 
 have been present, was indeed dressed for the occasion ; but 
 when the moment of trial arrived, she was absolutely unequal 
 to the effort. All this was amplified in a little note from his 
 sister, which his valet brought him in the morning. What, 
 however, considerably surprised him in this communication was 
 her announcement that her feelings last night had proved to 
 her that she ought not to remain in London, and that she in- 
 tended to find solitude and repose in the little watering-place 
 where she had passed a tranquil autumn during the first year 
 of her widowhood. What completed his astonishment, how- 
 ever, was the closing intimation that, in all probability, she 
 would have left town before he rose. The moment she had got 
 a little settled she would write to him, and when business per- 
 mitted, he must come and pay her a little visit. 
 
 " She was always capricious," exclaimed Lady Montfort, who 
 had not forgotten the disturbance of her royal supper-table. 
 
 ** Hardly that I think," said Endymion. " I have always 
 looked on Myra as a singularly consistent character." 
 
LADY MONTFORT OFFENDED. 419 
 
 *'I know, you never admit your sister has a fault." 
 
 " You said the other day yourself that she was the only 
 perfect character you knew." 
 
 "Did I say that ? I think her capricious." 
 
 "I do not think you are capricious," said Endymion, "and 
 yet the world sometimes says you are." 
 
 " I change my opinion of persons when my taste is offend- 
 ed," said Lady Montfort. " What I admired in your sister, 
 though I confess I sometimes wished not to admire her, was 
 that she never offended my taste." 
 
 " I hope satisfied it," said Endymion. 
 
 "Yes, satisfied it, always satisfied it. I wonder what will 
 be her lot, for considering her youth, her destiny has hardly 
 begun. Somehow or other, I do not think she will marry 
 Sidney Wilton." 
 
 "I have sometimes thought that would be," said En- 
 dymion. 
 
 "Well, it would be, I think, a happy match. All the cir- 
 cumstances would be collected that form what is supposed to 
 be happiness. But tastes differ about destinies as well as about 
 manners. For my part, I think to have a husband who loved 
 you, and he clever, accomplished, charming, ambitious, would 
 be happiness ; but I doubt whether your sister cares so much 
 about these things. She may, of course does, talk to you more 
 freely ; but with others, in her most open hours, there seems 
 a secret fund of reserve in her character which I never could 
 penetrate, except, I think, it is a reserve which does not origi- 
 nate in a love of tranquillity, but quite the reverse. She is a 
 strong character." 
 
 " Then, hardly a capricious one." 
 
 " No, not capricious ; I only said that to tease you. I am 
 capricious ; I know it. I disregard people sometimes that I 
 have patronized and flattered. It is not merely that I have 
 changed my opinion of them, but I positively hate them." 
 
 " I hope you will never hate me," said Endymion. 
 
 " You have never offended my taste yet," said Lady Mont- 
 fort with a smile. 
 
 Endymion was engaged to dine to-day with Mr. Bertie 
 
420 END7MI0N. 
 
 Tremaine. Although now in hostile political camps, that 
 great leader of men never permitted their acquaintance to 
 cease. ** He is young," reasoned Mr. Bertie Tremaine ; ** every 
 political party changes its principles on an average once in ten 
 years. Those who are young must often then form new con- 
 nections, and Ferrars will then come to me. He will be ripa 
 and experienced, and I could give him a good deal. I do not 
 want numbers. I want men. In opposition, numbers often 
 only embarrass. The power of the future is ministerial capa- 
 city. The leader with a cabinet formed will be the minister 
 of England. He is not to trouble himself about numbers ; 
 that is an affair of the constituencies.'' 
 
 Male dinners are in general not amusing. When they are 
 formed, as they usually are, of men who are supposed to possess 
 a strong and common sympathy — political, sporting, literary, 
 military, social — there is necessarily a monotony of thought 
 and feeling, and of the materials which induce thought and 
 feeling. In a male dinner of party politicians, conversation 
 soon degenerates into what is termed " shop" ; anecdotes about 
 divisions, criticism of speeches, conjectures about office, specu- 
 lations on impending elections, and above all, that heinous 
 subject on which enormous fibs are ever told, the registration. 
 There are, however, occasional glimpses in their talk which 
 would seem to intimate that they have another life outside the 
 Houses of Parliament. But that extenuating circumstance 
 does not apply to the sporting dinner. There they begin with 
 odds and handicaps, and end with handicaps and odds, and it 
 is doubtful whether it ever occurs to any one present, that 
 there is any other existing combination of atoms except odds 
 and handicaps. A dinner of wits is proverbially a palace of 
 silence ; and the envy and hatred which all literary men really 
 feel for each other, especially when they are exchanging dedi- 
 cations of mutual affection, always insure, in such assemblies, 
 the agreeable presence of a general feeling of painful constraint. 
 If a good thing occurs to a guest, he will not express it, lest 
 his neighbor, who is publishing a novel in numbers, shall ap- 
 propriate it next month, or he himself, who has the same re- 
 sponsibility of production, be deprived of its legitimate appear- 
 
AMUSING EXHIBITIONS, 421 
 
 ance. Those who desire to learn something of the manoeuvres 
 at the Eussian and Prussian reviews, or the last rumor at 
 Aldershot or the military clubs, will know where to find this 
 feast of reason. The flow of soul in these male festivals is 
 perhaps, on the whole, more genial when found in a society of 
 young gentlemen, graduates of the Turf and the Marlborough, 
 and guided in their benignant studies by the gentle experience 
 and the mild wisdom of White's. The startling scandal, the 
 rattling anecdote, the astounding leaps, and the amazing shots, 
 afford for the moment a somewhat pleasing distraction, but 
 when it is discovered that all these habitual flim-flams are, in 
 general, the airy creatures of inaccuracy and exaggeration — 
 that the scandal is not true, the anecdote has no foundation, 
 and that the feats of skill and strength are invested with the 
 organic weakness of tradition, the vagaries lose something of 
 the charm of novelty, and are almost as insipid as claret from 
 which the bouquet has evaporated. 
 
 The male dinners of Mr. Bertie Tremaine were an exception 
 to the general reputation of such meetings. They were never 
 dull. In the first place, though to be known at least by repu- 
 tation was an indispensable condition of being present, he 
 brought different classes together, and this, at least for once, 
 stimulates and gratifies curiosity. His house too was open to 
 foreigners of celebrity, without reference to their political 
 parties or opinions. Every one was welcome except absolute 
 assassins. The host too had studied the art of developing 
 character and conversation, and if sometimes he was not so 
 successful in this respect as he deserved, there was no lack of 
 amusing entertainment, for in these social encounters Mr. 
 Bertie Tremaine was a reserve in himself, and if nobody else 
 would talk, he would avail himself of the opportunity of pour- 
 ing forth the treasures of his own teeming intelligence. His 
 various knowledge, his power of speech, his eccentric paradoxes, 
 his pompous rhetoric, relieved by some happy sarcasm, and the 
 obvious sense, in all he said and did, of innate superiority to all 
 his guests, made these exhibitions extremely amusing. 
 
 "What Bertie Tremaine will end in," Endymion would 
 sometimes say, *' perplexes me. Had there been no revolution 
 
4^ ENDYMIOK 
 
 in 1832, and he had entered Parliament for his family borough, 
 I think he must by this time have been a minister. Such te- 
 nacity of purpose could scarcely fail. But he has had to say 
 and do so many odd things, first to get into Parliament, and 
 secondly to keep there, that his future now is not so clear. 
 When I first knew him, he was a Benthamite ; at present, I 
 sometimes seem to foresee that he will end by being the leader 
 of the Protectionists and the Protestants." 
 
 "And a good strong party too," said Trenchard, "but 
 query whether strong enough ?" 
 
 "That is exactly what Bertie Tremaine is trying to find 
 out." 
 
 Mr. Bertie Tremaine's manner in receiving his guests was 
 courtly and ceremonious ; a contrast to the free and easy style 
 of the time. But it was adopted after due reflection. " No 
 man can tell what will be the position he may be called upon 
 to fill. But he has a right to assume he will always be ascend- 
 ing. I, for example, may be destined to be the president of a 
 republic, the regent of a monarchy, or a sovereign myself. It 
 would be painful and disagreeable to have to change one's man- 
 ner at a perhaps advanced period of life, and become liable to 
 the unpopular imputation that you had grown arrogant and 
 overbearing. On the contrary, in my case, whatever my ele- 
 vation, there will be no change. My brother, Mr. Tremaine 
 Bertie, acts on a different principle. He is a Sybarite, and has 
 a general contempt for mankind, certainly for the mob and the 
 middle class, but he is * Hail fellow, well met ! ' with them all. 
 He says it answers at elections ; I doubt it. I myself represent 
 a popular constituency, but I believe I owe my success in no 
 slight measure to the manner in which I gave my hand when I 
 permitted it to be touched. As I say sometimes to Mr. Tre- 
 maine Bertie, *You will find this habit of social familiarity 
 embarrassing when I send you to St. Petersburg or Vienna.'" 
 
 Waldershare dined there, now a peer, though, as he rejoiced 
 to say, not a peer of Parliament. An Irish peer, with an Eng- 
 lish constituency, filled, according to Waldershare, the most 
 enviable of positions. His rank gave him social influence, and 
 his seat in the House of Commons that power w^hich all aspire 
 
THE COMMON RUMOR, 423 
 
 to obtain. The cynosure of the banquet, however, was a gen- 
 tleman who had, about a year before, been the president of a 
 republic for nearly six weeks, and who being master of a species 
 of rhapsodical rhetoric, highly useful in troubled times, when 
 there is no real business to transact, and where there is nobody 
 to transact it, had disappeared when the treasury was quite 
 empty, and there were no further funds to reward the enthusi- 
 astic citizens who had hitherto patriotically maintained order 
 at wages about double in amount to what they had previously 
 received in their handicrafts. This great reputation had been 
 brought over by Mr. Tremaine Bertie, now introducing him 
 into English political society. Mr. Tremaine Bertie hung upon 
 the accents of the oracle, every word of which was intended to 
 be picturesque or profound, and then surveyed his friends with 
 a glance of appreciating wonder. Sensible Englishmen, like 
 Endymion and Trenchard, looked upon the whole exhibition 
 as fustian, and received the revelations with a smile of frigid 
 courtesy. 
 
 The presence, however, of this celebrity of six weeks gave 
 occasionally a tone of foreign politics to the conversation, and 
 the association of ideas, which, in due course, rules all talk, 
 brought them, among other incidents and instances, to the 
 remarkable career of King Florestan. 
 
 "And yet he has his mortifications," said a sensible man. 
 " He wants a wife, and the princesses of the world will not 
 furnish him with one." 
 
 ''What authority have you for saying so," exclaimed the 
 fiery Waldershare. '' The princesses of the world would be 
 great fools if they refused such a man, but I know of no au- 
 thentic instance of such denial." 
 " Well, it is the common rumor." 
 "And, therefore, probably a common falsehood." 
 "Were he wise," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine, " King Flores- 
 tan would not marry. Dynasties are unpopular ; especially 
 new ones. The present age is monarchical, but not dynastic. 
 The king, who is a man of reach, and who has been pondering 
 such circumstances all his life, is probably well aware of this, 
 and will not be such a fool as to marry." 
 
424 ENDYMI02T. 
 
 *' How is the monarchy to go on, if there is to be no sue* 
 cessor?" inquired Trenchard. "You would not renew the 
 Polish constitution ? " 
 
 " The Polish constitution, by the bye, was not so bad a 
 thing," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine. " Under it a distinguished 
 Englishman might have mixed with the crowned heads of Eu- 
 rope, as Sir Philip Sidney nearly did. But I was looking to 
 something superior to the Polish constitution, or perhaps any 
 other ; I was contemplating a monarchy with the principle of 
 adoption. That would give you all the excellence of the Polish 
 constitution, and the order and constancy in which it failed. 
 It would realize the want of the age ; monarchical, not dynas- 
 tical, institutions, and it would act independent of the passions 
 and intrigues of the multitude. The principle of adoption was 
 the secret of the strength and endurance of Rome. It gave 
 Rome alike the Scipios and the Antonines." 
 
 * * A court would be rather dull without a woman at its head. " 
 
 ** On the contrary," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine. " It was 
 Louis Quatorze who made the court ; not his queen." 
 
 **\Vell," said Waldershare, ''all the same, I fear King 
 Florestan will adopt no one in this room, though he has several 
 friends here, and I am one ; and I believe that he will. marry, 
 and I can not help fancying the partner of his throne will not 
 be as insignificant as Louis the Fourteenth's wife, or Catherine 
 of Braganza." 
 
 Jawett dined this day with Mr. Bertie Tremaine. He was 
 a frequent guest there, and still was the editor of the " Pre- 
 cursor," though it sometimes baffled all that lucidity of style 
 for which he was celebrated to reconcile the conduct of the 
 party, of which the ** Precursor" was alike the oracle and or- 
 gan, with the opinions with which that now well-established 
 journal first attempted to direct and illuminate the public 
 mind. It seemed to the editor that the ''Precursor" dwelt 
 more on the past than became a harbinger of the future. Not 
 that Mr. Bertie Tremaine ever for a moment admitted that 
 there was any difficulty in any case. He never permitted any 
 dogmas that he had ever enunciated to be surrendered, however 
 contrary at their first aspect. 
 
PARLIAMENTARY LIFE. ' 425 
 
 " All are but parts of one stupendous whole," 
 
 and few things were more interesting than the conferences in 
 which Mr. Bertie Tremaine had to impart his views and in- 
 structions to the master of that lucid style, which had the 
 merit of making everything so very clear when the master 
 himself was, as at present, extremely perplexed and confused. 
 Jawett lingered after the other guests, that he might have the 
 advantage of consulting the great leader on the course which 
 he ought to take in advocating a measure which seemed com- 
 pletely at variance with all the principles they had ever upheld. 
 
 *' I do not see your difficulty," wound up the host. ^' Your 
 case is clear. You have a principle which will carry you 
 through everything. That is the charm of a principle. You 
 have always an answer ready." 
 
 ** But in this case," somewhat timidly inquired Mr. Jawett, 
 " what would be the principle on which I should rest ? " 
 
 *^You must show," said Mr. Bertie Tremaine, "that de- 
 mocracy is aristocracy in disguise ; and that aristocracy is de- 
 mocracy in disguise. It will carry you through everything." 
 
 Even Jawett looked a little amazed. 
 
 ** But — " he was beginning, when Mr. Bertie Tremaine 
 arose. " Think of Avhat I have said, and if on reflection any 
 doubt or difficulty remain in your mind, call on me to-morrow 
 before I go to the House. At present, I must pay my respects 
 to Lady Beaumaris. She is the only woman the Tories can 
 boast of ; but she is a first-rate woman, and is a power which I 
 must secure." 
 
 CHAPTER XCII. 
 
 A MON'TH had nearly elapsed since the Montfort ball ; the 
 season was over and the session was nearly finished. The pres- 
 sure of parliamentary life for those in office is extreme during 
 this last month, yet Endymion would have contrived, were it 
 only for a day, to have visited his sister, had Lady Roehamp- 
 ton much encouraged his appearance. Strange as it seemed 
 
426 ENDYMION. 
 
 to him, she did not, but on the contrary, always assumed that 
 the prorogation of Parliament would alone bring them togeth- 
 er again. When he proposed on one occasion to come down 
 for four-and- twenty hours, she absolutely, though with much 
 affection, adjourned the fulfillment of the offer. It seemed that 
 she was not yet quite settled. 
 
 Lady Montfort lingered in London even after Goodwood. 
 She was rather embarrassed, as she told Endymion, about her 
 future plans. Lord Montfort was at .Princedown, where she 
 wished to join him, but he did not respond to her wishes ; on 
 the contrary, while announcing that he was indisposed, and 
 meant to remain at Princedown for the summer, he suggested 
 that she should avail herself of the opportunity, and pay a long 
 visit to her family in the north. *'I know what he means," 
 she observed ; " he wants the world to believe that we are sep- 
 arated. He can not repudiate me — he is too great a gentleman 
 to do anything coarsely unjust ; but he thinks, by tact and in- 
 direct means, he may attain our virtual separation. He has 
 had this purpose for years, I believe now ever since our mar- 
 riage, but hitherto I have baffled him. I ought to be with 
 him ; I really believe he is indisposed,' his face has become so 
 pale of late ; but were I to persist in going to Princedown I 
 should only drive him away. He would go off in the night 
 without leaving his address, and something would happen — 
 dreadful or absurd. What I had best do, I think, is this. You 
 are going at last to pay your visit to your sister ; I will write 
 to my lord and tell him that as he does not wish me to go to 
 Princedown, I propose to go to Montfort Castle. When the 
 flag is flying at Montfort, I can pay a visit of any length to my 
 family. It will only be a neighboring visit from Montfort to 
 them ; perhaps, too, they might return it. At any rate, then 
 they can not say my lord and I are separated. We need not 
 live under the same roof, but so long as I live under his roof 
 the world considers us united. It is a pity to have to scheme 
 in this manner, and rather degrading, particularly when one 
 might be so happy with him. But you know, my dear En- 
 dymion, all about our affairs. Your friend is not a very happy 
 woman, and if not a very unhappy one, it is owing much to 
 
A SHOUT VISIT. 427 
 
 your dear friendsliip, and a little to my own spirit which keeps 
 me up under what is frequent and sometimes bitter mortifica- 
 tion. And now adieu ! I suppose you can not be away less 
 than a week. Probably on your return you will find me here. 
 I can not go to Montfort without his permission. But he will 
 give it. I observe that he will always do anything to gain his 
 immediate object. His immediate object is, that I shall not go 
 to Princedown, and so he will agree that I shall go to Montfort." 
 
 For the first time in his life, Endymion felt some constraint 
 in the presence of Myra. There was something changed in her 
 manner. No diminution of affection, for she threw her arms 
 around him and pressed him to her heart ; and then she looked 
 at him anxiously, even sadly, and kissed both his eyes, and 
 then she remained for some moments in silence with her face 
 hid on his shoulder. Never since the loss of Lord Koehamp- 
 ton had she seemed so subdued. 
 
 *'It is a long separation," she at length said, with a voice 
 and smile equally faint, "and you must be a little wearied 
 with your traveling. Come and refresh yourself, and then I 
 will show you my boudoir I have made here ; rather pretty, 
 out of nothing. And then we will sit down and have a long 
 talk together, for I have much to tell you, and I want your 
 advice. " 
 
 "She is going to marry Sidney "Wilton," thought Endym- 
 ion ; "that is clear." 
 
 The boudoir was really pretty, "made out of nothing ;" a 
 gay chintz, some shelves of beautiful books, some fanciful 
 chairs, and a portrait of Lord Roehampton. 
 
 It was a long interview, very long, and if one could judge 
 by the countenance of Endymion, when he quitted the boudoir 
 and hastened to his room, of grave import. Sometimes his 
 face was pale, sometimes scarlet ; the changes were rapid, but 
 the expression was agitated rather than one of gratification. 
 
 He sent instantly for his servant, and then penned this 
 telegram to Lady Montfort : " My visit here will be short. I 
 am to see you immediately. Nothing must prevent your being 
 at home when I call to-morrow, about four o'clock. Most, 
 most important. " 
 
428 ENDYMIOK 
 
 CHAPTER XCIII. 
 
 *' Well, something has happened at last," said Lady Mont- 
 fort witli a wondering countenance ; ** it is too maryelous ! " 
 
 **She goes to Osborne to-day," continued Endymion, "and 
 I suppose after that, in due course, it will be generally known. 
 I should think the formal announcement would be made abroad. 
 It has been kept wonderfully close. She wished you to know 
 it first, at least from her. I do not think she ever hesitated 
 about accepting him. There was delay from yarious causes ; 
 whether there should be a marriage by proxy first in this coun- 
 try, and other points ; about religion for example." 
 
 ''Well?" 
 
 " She enters the Catholic Church, the Archbishop of Tyre 
 has received her. There is no difficulty and no great cere- 
 monies in such matters. She was rebaptized, but only by way 
 of precaution. It was not necessary, for our orders, you know, 
 are recognized by Rome." 
 
 "And that was all!" 
 
 "All, with a first communion and confession. It is all 
 consummated now; as you say, *It is too wonderful.' A 
 first confession, and to Nigel Penruddock, who says life is flat 
 and insipid ! " 
 
 " I shall write to her : I must write to her. I wonder if I 
 shall see her before she departs." 
 
 "That is certain if you wish it ; she wishes it." 
 
 " And when does she go ? And who goes with her ? " 
 
 "She will be under my charge," said Endymion. "It is 
 fortunate that it should happen at a time when I am free. I 
 am personally to deliver her to the king. The Duke of St. 
 Angelo, Baron Sergius, and the archbishop accompany her, 
 and Waldershare, at the particular request of his majesty." 
 
 "And no lady?" 
 
 "She takes Adriana with her." 
 
 " Ad riana !" repeated Lady Montfort, and a cloud passed 
 over her brow. There was a momentary pause, and then Lady 
 Montfort said, " I wish she would take me." 
 
A GREAT CHANGE. 429 
 
 ''That would be delightful," said Endymion, ''and most 
 becoming — to have for a companion the greatest lady of our 
 court." 
 
 "She will not take me with her," said Lady Montfort, 
 sorrowfully but decisively, and shaking her head. "Dear 
 woman ! I loved her always, often most when I seemed least 
 affectionate— but there was between us something—" and she 
 hesitated. " Heigho ! I may be the greatest lady of our court, 
 but I am a very unhappy woman, Endymion, and what annoys 
 and dispirits me most, sometimes quite breaks me down, is 
 that I can not see that I deserve my lot." 
 
 It happened as Endymion foresaw ; the first announcement 
 came from abroad. King Florestan suddenly sent a message 
 to his Parliament, that his majesty was about to present them 
 with a queen. She was not the daughter of a reigning house, 
 but she came from the land of freedom and political wisdom, 
 and from the purest and most powerful court in Europe. His 
 subjects soon learned that she was the most beautiful of women, 
 for the portrait of the Countess of Eoehampton, as it were by 
 magic, seemed suddenly to fill every window in every shop in 
 the teeming and brilliant capital where she was about to reign. 
 
 It was convenient that these great events should occur 
 when everybody was out of town. Lady Montfort alone re- 
 mained, the frequent, if not constant, companion of the new 
 sovereign. Berengaria soon recovered her high spirits. There 
 was much to do and prepare in which her hints and advice 
 were invaluable. Though she was not to have the honor of 
 attending Myra to her new home, which, considering her high 
 place in the English court, was perhaps hardly consistent with 
 etiquette, for so she now cleverly put it, she was to pay her 
 majesty a visit in due time. The momentary despondency 
 that had clouded her brilliant countenance had not only dis- 
 appeared, but she had quite forgotten, and certainly would not 
 admit, that she was anything but the most sanguine and ener- 
 getic of beings, and rallied Endymion unmercifully for his 
 careworn countenance and too frequent air of depression. The 
 truth is, the great change that was impending was one which 
 might well make him seriou<5, and sometimes sad. 
 
430 ENDYMION. 
 
 The withdrawal of a female influence, so potent on his life 
 as that of his sister, was itself a great event. There had been 
 between them from the cradle, which, it may be said, they had 
 shared, a strong and perfect sympathy. They had experienced 
 together vast and strange vicissitudes of life. Though much 
 separated in his early youth, there had still been a constant 
 interchange of thought and feeling between them. For the 
 last twelve years or so, ever since Myra had become acquainted 
 with the Neuchatel family, they may be said never to have 
 separated — at least they had maintained a constant communi- 
 cation, and generally a personal one. She had in a great de- 
 gree molded his life. Her unfaltering, though often unseen, 
 influence had created his advancement. Her will was more 
 powerful than his. He was more prudent and plastic. He 
 felt this keenly. He was conscious, that left to himself, he 
 would probably have achieved much less. He remembered her 
 words when they parted for the first time at Hurstley, " Wo- 
 men will be your best friends in life." And that brought his 
 thoughts to the only subject on which they had ever differed - 
 her wished-for union between himself and Adriana. He felt 
 he had crossed her there — that he had prevented the fulfill- 
 ment of her deeply matured plans. Perhaps, had that mar- 
 riage taken place, she would never have quitted England. Per- 
 haps ; but was that desirable ? Was it not fitter that so lofty 
 a spirit should find a seat as exalted as her capacity ? Myra 
 was a sovereign I In this age of strange events, not the least 
 strange. No petty cares and griefs must obtrude themselves 
 in such majestic associations. And yet the days at Hainault 
 were very happy, and the bright visits to Gaydene, and her 
 own pleasant though stately home. His heart was agitated, 
 and his eyes were often moistened with emotion. He seemed 
 to think that all the thrones of Christendom could be no com- 
 pensation for the loss of this beloved genius of his life, whom 
 he might never see again. Sometimes, when he paid his daily 
 visit to Berengaria, she who knew him by heart, who studied 
 every expression of his countenance and every tone of his voice, 
 would say to him, after a few minutes of desultory and feeble 
 conversation, "You are thinking of your sister, Endymion ?" 
 
LADY MONTFORTS FRIENDSHIP. 431 
 
 He did not reply, but gave a sort of faint, mournful smile. 
 
 ** This separation is a trial, a severe one, and I knew you 
 v^ould feel it," said Lady Montfort. "I feel it; I loy^d your 
 sister, but she did not love me. Nobody that I love ever does 
 love me." 
 
 ** Oh ! do not say that. Lady Montfort." 
 
 ** It is what I feel. I can not console you. There is no- 
 thing I can do for you. My friendship, if you value it, which 
 I will not doubt you do, you fully possessed before your sister 
 was a queen. So that goes for nothing." 
 
 *'I must say, I feel sometimes most miserable." 
 
 " Nonsense, Endymion ; if anything could annoy your sis- 
 ter more than another, it would be to hear of such feelings 
 on your part. I must say she has courage. She has found her 
 fitting place. Her brother ought to do the same. You have 
 a great object in life, at least you had, but I have no faith in 
 sentimentalists. If I had been sentimental, I should have gone 
 into a convent long ago." 
 
 " If to feel is to be sentimental, I can not help it." 
 
 " All feeling which has no object to attain is morbid and 
 maudlin," said Lady Montfort. ** You say you are very miser- 
 able, and at the same time you do not know what you want. 
 Would you have your sister dethroned ? And if you would, 
 could you accomplish your purpose ? AVell, then, what non- 
 sense to think about her except to feel proud of her elevation, 
 and prouder still that she is equal to it." 
 
 " You always have the best of every argument," said En- 
 dymion. 
 
 "Of course," said Lady Montfort. "What I want you to 
 do is to exert yourself. You have now a strong social position, 
 for Sidney Wilton tells me the queen has relinquished to you 
 her mansion and the whole of her income, which is no mean 
 one. You must collect your friends about you. Our govern- 
 ment is not too strong, I can tell you. We must brush up in 
 the recess. What with Mr. Bertie Tremaine and his friends 
 joining the Protectionists, and the ultra-Kadicals wanting, as 
 they always do, something impossible, I see seeds of discom- 
 fiture unless they are met with energy. You stand high, and 
 
432 ENDYMION. 
 
 are well spoken of even by our opponents. Whether we stand 
 or fall, it is a moment for you to increase your personal in- 
 fluence. That is the element now to encourage in your career, 
 because you are not like the old fogies in the cabinet, who, if 
 they go out, will never enter another again. You have a fu- 
 ture, and though you may not be an emperor, you may be what 
 I esteem more, prime minister of this country." 
 
 "You are always so sanguine." 
 
 "Not more sanguine than your sister. Often we have 
 talked of this. I wish she were here to help us, but I will do 
 my part At present let us go to luncheon. " 
 
 CHAPTER XCiy. 
 
 There was a splendid royal yacht, though not one belong- 
 ing to our gracious sovereign, lying in one of Her Majesty's 
 southern ports, and the yacht was convoyed by a smart frigate. 
 The crews were much ashore, and were very popular, for they 
 spent a great deal of money. Ever}^body -knew what was the 
 purpose of their bright craft, and every one was interested in 
 it. A beautiful Englishwoman had been selected to fill a for- 
 eign and brilliant throne occupied by a prince, who had been 
 educated in our own country, who ever avowed his sympathies 
 with " the inviolate island of the sage and free." So in fact 
 there was some basis for the enthusiasm which was felt on this 
 occasion by the inhabitants of Nethampton. What every one 
 wanted to know was when she would sail. Ah ! that was a 
 secret, still a secret that could hardly be kept for the eight- 
 and-forty hours preceding her departure, and, therefore, one 
 day, with no formal notice, all the inhabitants of Nethampton 
 were in gala ; streets and ships dressed out with the flags of 
 all nations ; the church bells ringing ; and busy little girls run- 
 ning about with huge bouquets. 
 
 At the very instant expected, the special train was signaled, 
 and drove into the crimson station amid the thunder of artil- 
 lery, the blare of trumpets, the beating of drums, and cheers 
 
A PLEASANT VOYAGE. 433 
 
 from thousands even louder and longer than the voices of the 
 cannon. Leaning on the arm. of her brother, and attended by 
 the Princess of Montserrat and the Honorable Adriana Neu- 
 chatel, Baron Sergius, the Duke of St. Angelo, the Archbishop 
 of Tyre, and Lord Waldershare, the daughter of William Fer- 
 rars, gracious, yet looking as if she were born to empire, re- 
 ceived the congratulatory address of the mayor and corporation 
 and citizens of Nethampton, and permitted her hand to be 
 kissed, not only by his worship, but by at least two aldermen. 
 
 They were on the waters, and the shores of Albion, fast 
 fading away, had diminished to a speck. It is a melancholy 
 and tender moment, and Myra was in her ample and splendid 
 cabin and alone. " It is a trial," she felt, "but all that I love 
 and value in this world are in this vessel,'' and she thought of 
 Endymion and Adriana. The gentlemen were on deck, chiefly 
 smoking or reconnoitering their convoy through their tele- 
 scopes. 
 
 "I must say," said Waldershare, "it was a grand idea of 
 our kings making themselves sovereigns of the sea. The 
 greater portion of this planet is water ; so we at once became a 
 first-rate power. We owe our navy entirely to the Stuarts. 
 King James the Second was the true founder and hero of the 
 British navy. He was the worthy son of his admirable father, 
 that blessed martyr, the restorer at least, if not the inventor, 
 of ship money ; the most patriotic and popular tax that ever 
 was devised by man. The Nonconformists thought themselves 
 so wise in resisting it, and they have got the naval estimates 
 instead ! " 
 
 The voyage was propitious, the weather delightful, and 
 when they had entered the southern waters, Waldershare con- 
 fessed that he felt the deliciousness of life. If the scene and 
 the impending events, and their own fair thoughts had not 
 been adequate to interest them, there were ample resources at 
 their command ; all the ladies were skilled musicians^ their 
 concerts commenced at sunset, and the sweetness of their voices 
 long lingered over the moonlit waters. 
 
 Adriana, one evening, bending over the bulwarks of the 
 yacht, was watching the track of phosphoric light, struck into 
 
 BB 19 / 
 
 / 
 
434 ENDTMIOK 
 
 brilliancy from the dark-blue waters by the prow of their rapid 
 vessel. **It is a fascinating sight, Miss Neuchatel, and it 
 seems one might gaze on it for ever." 
 
 "Ah ! Lord Waldershare, you caught me in a reverie." 
 
 ** What more sweet ?" 
 
 ** Well, that depends on its subject. To tell the truth, I 
 was thinking that these lights resembled a little your conversa- 
 tion ; all the wondrous things you are always saying or telling 
 us." 
 
 The archbishop was a man who never recurred to the past. 
 One never could suppose that Endymion and himself had been 
 companions in their early youth, or, so far as their intercourse 
 was concerned, that there was such a place in the world as 
 Hurstley. One night, however, as they were pacing the deck 
 together, he took the arm of Endymion, and said, " I trace the 
 hand of Providence in every incident of your sister's life. 
 What we deemed misfortunes, sorrows, even calamities, were 
 forming a character originally endowed with supreme will, and 
 destined for the highest purposes. There was a moment at 
 Hurstley when I myself was crushed to the earth, and cared 
 not to live ; vain, short-sighted mortal ! Our Great Master 
 was at that moment shaping everything to his ends, and pre- 
 paring for the entrance into his Church of a woman who may 
 be, who will be, I believe, another St. Helena. " 
 
 ** We have not spoken of this subject before," said Endym- 
 ion, " and I should not have cared had our silence continued, 
 but I must now tell you frankly, the secession of my sister 
 from the church of her fathers was to me by no means a mat- 
 ter of unmixed satisfaction." 
 
 ** The time will come when you will recognize it as the con- 
 summation of a Divine plan," said the archbishop. 
 
 "I feel great confidence that my sister will never be the 
 slave of superstition," said Endymion. '^ Her mind is too mas- 
 culine for that ; she will remember that the throne she fills has 
 been already once lost by the fatal influence of the Jesuits." 
 
 "The influence of the Jesuits is the influence of Divine 
 truth," said his companion. " And how is it possible for such 
 influence not to prevail ? What you treat as defeats, discom- 
 
BEJOICINGS. 435 
 
 fitures, are events which you do not comprehend. They are 
 incidents all leading to one great end — the triumph of the 
 Church — that is, the triumph of God.'* 
 
 '^ I will not decide what are great ends ; I am content to as- 
 certain what is wise conduct. And it would not be wise conduct, 
 in my opinion, for the king to rest upon the Jesuits." 
 
 *' The Jesuits never fell except from conspiracy against 
 them. It is never the public voice that demands their expul- 
 sion or the public effort that accomplishes it. It is always the 
 affair of sovereigns and statesmen, of politicians, of men, in 
 short, who feel that there is a power at work, and that power 
 one not favorable to their schemes or objects of government." 
 
 " Well, we shall see," said Endymion ; " I candidly tell you, 
 I hope the Jesuits will have as little influence in my brother-in- 
 law's kingdom as in my own country." 
 
 ** As little," said Nigel, somewhat sarcastically, ''I should 
 be almost content if the holy order in every country had as 
 much influence as they now have in England. " 
 
 *' I think your grace exaggerates." 
 
 "Before two years are past," said the archbishop, speaking 
 very slowly, " I foresee that the Jesuits will be privileged in 
 England, and the hierarchy of our Church recognized." 
 
 It was a delicious afternoon ; it had been sultry, but the 
 sun had now greatly declined, when the captain of the yacht 
 came down to announce to the queen that they were in sight 
 of her new country, and she hastened on deck to behold the 
 rapidly nearing shore. A squadron of ships of war had stood 
 out to meet her, and in due time the towers and spires of a 
 beautiful city appeared, which was the port of the capital, and 
 itself almost worthy of being one. A royal barge, propelled 
 by four-and-twenty rowers, and bearing the lord chamberlain, 
 awaited the queen, and the moment her majesty and the Princess 
 of Montserrat had taken their seats, salutes thundered from 
 every ship of war, responded to by fort and battery ashore. 
 
 When they landed, they were conducted by chief officers of 
 the court to a pavilion which faced the western sky, now glow- 
 ing like an opal with every shade of the Iris, and then becom- 
 ing of a light green color varied only by some slight clouds 
 
^M FNDTMIOy. 
 
 burnished with gold. A troop of maidens brought flowers aa 
 bright as themselves, and then a company of pages advanced, 
 and kneeling, offered to the queen chocolate in a crystal cup. 
 
 According to the programme drawn up by the heralds, and 
 evejy tittle of it founded on precedents, the king and the royal 
 carriages were to have met the travelers on their arrival at the 
 metropolis ; but there are feelings which heralds do not com- 
 prehend, and which defy precedents. Suddenly there was a 
 shout, a loud cheer, a louder salute. Some one had arrived 
 unexpectedly. A young man, stately but pale, moved through 
 the swiftly receding crowd, alone and unattended, entered the 
 pavilion, advanced to the queen, kissed her hand, and then 
 both her cheeks, just murmuring, " My best beloved, this, this 
 indeed is joy." 
 
 The capital was fortified, and the station was without the 
 walls ; here the royal carriages awaited them. The crowd was 
 immense ; the ramparts on this occasion were covered with 
 people. It was an almost sultry night, with every star visible, 
 and clear and warm and sweet. As the royal carriage crossed 
 the drawbridge and entered the chief gates, the whole city was 
 in an instant suddenly illuminated — in a flash. The architec- 
 tural lines of the city walls, and of every street, were indicated, 
 and along the ramparts at not distant intervals were tripods, 
 each crowned with a silver flame, which cast around the radi- 
 ance of day. 
 
 He held and pressed her hand as in silence she beheld the 
 wondrous scene. They had to make a progress of some miles ; 
 the way was kept throughout by soldiery and civic guards, 
 while beyond them was an infinite population, all cheering and 
 many of them waving torches. They passed through many 
 streets, and squares with marvelous fountains, until they ar- 
 rived at the chief and royal street, which has no equal in the 
 world. It is more than a mile long, never swerving from a 
 straight line, broad, yet the houses so elevated that they gener- 
 ally furnished the shade this ardent clime requires. The archi- 
 tecture of this street is so varied that it never becomes monoto- 
 nous, some beautiful church, or palace, or ministerial hotel 
 perpetually varying the effect. All the windows were full on 
 
GREAT ENTHUSIASM. 437 
 
 this occasion, and eyen the roofs were crowded. Every house 
 was covered with tapestry, and the line of every building was 
 marked out by artificial light. The moon rose, but she was 
 not wanted ; it was as light as day. 
 
 They were considerate enough not to move too rapidly 
 through this heart of the metropolis, and even halted at some 
 stations, where bands of music and choirs of singers welcomed 
 and celebrated them. They moved on more quickly afterward, 
 made their way through a pretty suburb, and then entered a 
 park. At the termination of a long avenue was the illumined 
 and beautiful palace of the Prince of Montserrat, where Myra 
 was to reside and repose until the momentous morrow, when 
 King riorestan was publicly to place on the brow of his affi- 
 anced bride the crown which to his joy she had consented to 
 share. 
 
 CHAPTER XCV. 
 
 There are very few temperaments that can resist a uni- 
 versal and unceasing festival in a vast and beautiful metropolis. 
 It is inebriating, and the most wonderful of all its accidents is 
 how the population can ever calm and recur to the monotony 
 of ordinary life. When all this happens too in a capital blessed 
 with purple skies, where the moonlight is equal to our sun- 
 shine, and where half the population sleep in the open air and 
 wish for no roof but the heavens, existence is a dream of fan- 
 tasy and perpetual loveliness, and one is at last forced to be- 
 lieve that there is some mjraculous and supernatural agency 
 that provides the ever-enduring excitement and ceaseless inci- 
 dents of grace and beauty. 
 
 After the great ceremony of the morrow in the cathedral, 
 and when Myra, kneeling at the altar with her husband, re- 
 ceived, under a canopy of silver brocade, the blessings of a 
 cardinal and her people, day followed day with court balls and 
 municipal banquets, state visits to operas, and reviews of sump- 
 tuous troops. At length the end of all , this pageantry and 
 enthusiasm approached, and amid a blaze of fireworks, the 
 
438 ENDTMIOK 
 
 picturesque population of this fascinating city tried to return 
 to ordinary feeling and to common sense. 
 
 If amid this graceful hubbub and this glittering riot any 
 one could have found time to remark the carriage and conduct 
 of an individual, one might have observed, and perhaps been 
 surprised at, the change in those of Miss Neuchatel. That air 
 of pensive resignation which distinguished her seemed to have 
 vanished. She never wore that doleful look for which she was 
 too remarkable in London saloons, and which marred a coun- 
 tenance favored by nature and a form intended for gayety and 
 grace. Perhaps it was the influence of the climate, perhaps 
 the excitement of the scene, perhaps some rapture with the 
 wondrous fortunes of the friend whom she adored, but Adriana 
 seemed suddenly to sympathize with everybody and to appre- 
 ciate everything ; her face was radiant, she was in every dance, 
 and visited churches and museums, and palaces and galleries, 
 with keen delight. With many charms, the intimate friend of 
 their sovereign, and herself known to be noble and immensely 
 rich, Adriana became the fashion, and a crowd of princes were 
 ever watching her smiles, and sometimes offering her their 
 sighs. 
 
 ** I think you enjoy our visit more than any one of us," said 
 Endymion to her one day, with some feeling of surprise. 
 
 ** Well, one can not mope for ever," said Miss Neuchatel ; 
 ** I have passed my life in thinking of one subject, and I feel 
 now it made me very stupid." 
 
 Endymion felt embarrassed, and though generally ready, had 
 no repartee at command. Lord Waldershare, however, came to 
 his relief, and claimed Adriana for the impending dance. 
 
 This wondrous marriage was a grand subject for " our own 
 correspondents," and they abounded. Among them were Jaw- 
 ett and St. Barbe. St. Barbe hated Jawett, as indeed he did all 
 his brethren, but his appointment in this instance he denounced 
 as an infamous job. '* Merely to allow him to travel in foreign 
 parts, which he has never done, without a single qualification 
 for the office. However, it will ruin his paper, that is some 
 consolation. Fancy sending here a man who has never used 
 his pen except about those dismal statistics, and what he calls 
 
WALDERSHARE FRIGHTENS ST. BARBE. 439 
 
 first principles ! I hate his style, so neat and frigid. No color, 
 sir. I hate his short sentences, like a dog barking ; we want a 
 word-painter here, sir. My description of the wedding sold one 
 hundred and fifty thousand, and it is selling now. If the pro- 
 prietors were gentlemen, they would have sent me an unlimited 
 credit, instead of their paltry fifty pounds a day and my ex- 
 penses ; but you never meet a liberal man now — no such animal 
 known. What I want you to do for me, Lord Waldershare, is 
 to get me invited to the Villa Aurea when the court moves 
 there. It will be private life there, and that is the article the 
 British public want now. They are satiated with ceremonies 
 and festivals. They want to know what the royal pair have for 
 dinner when they are alone, how they pass their evenings, and 
 whether the queen drives ponies." 
 
 "So far as I am concerned," said Waldershare, "they shall 
 remain state secrets." 
 
 " I have received no special favors here," rejoined St. Barbe, 
 " though, with my claims, I might have counted on the utter- 
 most. However, it is always so. I must depend on my own 
 resources. I have a retainer, I can tell you, my lord, from the 
 'Rigdum Funidos,' in my pocket, and it is in my power to 
 keep up such a crackling of jokes and sarcasms that a very 
 different view would soon be entertained in Europe of what is 
 going on here than is now the fashion. The * Rigdum Funidos ' 
 is on the breakfast-table of all England, and sells thousands in 
 every capital of the world. You do not appreciate its power ; 
 you will now feel it." 
 
 "I also am a subscriber to the 'Rigdum Funidos,'" said 
 Waldershare, "and tell you frankly, Mr. St. Barbe, that if I 
 see in its columns the slightest allusion to any person or inci- 
 dent in this country, I will take care that you be instantly con- 
 signed to the galleys ; and, this being a liberal government, I 
 can do that without even the ceremony of a primary in- 
 quiry." 
 
 "You do not mean that !" said St. Barbe ; "of course, I 
 was only jesting. It is not likely that I should say or do any- 
 thing disagreeable to those whom I look upon as my patrons — 
 I may say friends — through life. It makes me almost weep 
 
440 ENDTMIOir. 
 
 when I remember my early connection with Mr. Ferrars, now 
 an under secretary of state, and who will mount higher. I 
 never had a chance of being a minister, though I suppose I am 
 not more incapable than others who get the silver spoon into 
 their mouths. And then his divine sister ! Quite a heroic 
 character ! I never had a sister, and so I never had even the 
 chance of being nearly related to royalty. But so it has been 
 throughout my life. No luck, my lord ; no luck. And then 
 they say one is misanthropical. Hang it ! who can help being 
 misantliropical when he finds everybody getting on in life ex- 
 cept himself ? " 
 
 The court moved to their favorite summer residence, a 
 Palladian palace on a blue lake, its banks clothed with forests 
 abounding with every species of game, and beyond them loftier 
 mountains. The king was devoted to sport, and Endymion 
 was always among his companions. Waldershare rather at- 
 tached himself to the ladies, who made gay parties floating in 
 gondolas, and refreshed themselves with picnics in sylvan re- 
 treats. It was supposed Lord Waldershare was a great admirer 
 of the Princess of Montserrat, who in return referred to him as 
 that " lovable eccentricity." As the autumn advanced, parties 
 of guests of high distinction, carefully arranged, periodically 
 arrived. Now, there was more ceremony, and every evening 
 the circle was formed, while the king and queen exchanged 
 words, and sometimes ideas, with those who were so fortunate 
 as to be under their roof. Frequently there were dramatic 
 performances, and sometimes a dance. The Princess of Mont- 
 serrat was invaluable in these scenes ; vivacious, imaginative, 
 a consummate mimic, her countenance, though not beautiful, 
 was full of charm. What was strange, Adriana took a great 
 fancy to her highness, and they were seldom separated. The 
 only cloud for Endymion in this happy life was that every day 
 the necessity of his return to England was more urgent, and 
 every day the days vanished more quickly. That return to 
 England, once counted by weeks, would soon be counted by 
 hours. He had conferred once or twice with Waldershare on 
 the subject, who always turned the conversation ; at last En- 
 dymion reminded him that the time of his departure was at 
 
THE QUEEN'S UNHAPPmESS. 441 
 
 hand, and that, originally, it had been agreed they should re- 
 turn together. 
 
 ''Yes, my dear Ferrars, we did so agree, but the agreement 
 was permissive, not compulsory. My views are changed. Per- 
 haps I shall never return to England again ; I think of being 
 naturalized here." 
 
 The queen was depressed at the prospect of being separated 
 from her brother. Sometimes she remonstrated with him for 
 his devotion to sport which deprived her of his society ; fre- 
 quently in a morning she sent for him to her boudoir, that 
 they might talk together as in old times. ''The king has in- 
 vited Lord and Lady Beaumaris to pay us a visit, and they are 
 coming at once. I had hoped the dear Kainaults might have 
 visited us here. I think she would have liked it. However, 
 they will certainly pass the winter with us. It is some con- 
 solation to me not to lose Adriana.'' 
 
 " The greatest," said Endymion, " and she seems so happy 
 here. She seems quite changed." 
 
 " I hope she is happier," said the queen, " but I trust she 
 IS not changed. I think her nearly perfection. So pure, even 
 so exalted a mind, joined with so sweet a temper, I have never 
 met. And she is very much admired too, I can tell you. The 
 Prince of Arragon would be on his knees to her to-morrow, if 
 she would only give a single smile. But she smiles enough 
 with the Princess of Montserrat. I heard her the other day 
 absolutely in uncontrollable laughter. That is a strange friend- 
 ship ; it amuses me." 
 
 " The princess has immense resource." 
 
 The queen suddenly rose from her seat ; her countenance 
 was disturbed. 
 
 " Why do we talk of her, or of any other trifler of the court, 
 when there hangs over us so great a sorrow, Endymion, as 
 our separation ? Endymion, my best beloved, "^ and she threw 
 her arms round his neck, " my heart ! my life ! Is it possible, 
 that you can leave me, and so miserable as I am." 
 
 " Miserable ! " 
 
 " Yes ! miserable when I think of your position — and even 
 my own. Mine own has risen like a palace in a dream, and 
 
442 ENDYMION-. 
 
 may vanish like one. But that would not be a calamity if you 
 were safe. If I quitted this world to-morrow, where would you 
 be I It gives me sleepless nights and anxious days. If you 
 really loved me as you say, you would save me this. I am 
 haunted with the perpetual thought that all this glittering 
 prosperity will vanish as it did with our father. God forbid 
 that, under any circumstances, it should lead to such an end — 
 but who knows ? Fate is terribly stern ; ironically just. ! 
 Endymion, if you really love me, your twin, half of your blood 
 and life, who have labored for you so much, and thought for 
 you so much, and prayed for you so much — and yet I some- 
 times feel have dons so little. ^ — 01 Endymion, my adored, my 
 own Endymion, if you wish to preserve my life — if you wish 
 me not only to live, but really to be happy as I ought to be and 
 could be, but for one dark thought, help me, aid me, save me 
 — you can, and by one single act." 
 
 ** One single act ! " 
 
 " Yes ! marry Adriana." 
 
 "Ah ! " and he sighed. 
 
 "Yes, Adriana, to whom we both of us owe everything. 
 Were it not for Adriana, you would not be here, you would be 
 nothing," and she whispered some words which made him 
 start, and alternately blush and look pale. 
 
 "Is it possible ?" he exclaimed. "My sister, my beloved 
 sister, I have tried to keep my brain cool in many trials. But 
 I feel, as it were, as if life were too much for me. You coun- 
 sel me to that which we should all repent." 
 
 " Yes, I know it ; you may for a moment think it a sacri- 
 fice, but believe me, that is all fantasy. I know you think 
 your heart belongs to another. I will grant everything, wil- 
 lingly grant everything you could say of her. Yes, I admit, 
 she is beautiful, she has many charms, has been to you a faith- 
 ful friend, you delight in her society ; such things have hap- 
 pened before to many men, to every man they say they happen, 
 but that has not prevented them from being wise, and very 
 happy too. Your present position, if you persist in it, is one 
 most perilous. You have no root in the country ; but for an 
 accident you could not maintain the public position you have 
 
EFDYMIOK'S VOYAGE HOME. 443 
 
 nobly gained. As for the great crowning consummation of 
 your life, which we dreamed over at unhappy Hurstley, which 
 I have sometimes dared to prophesy, that must be surrendered. 
 The country at the best will look upon you only as a reputable 
 adventurer to be endured, even trusted and supported, in some 
 secondary post, but nothing more. I touch on this, for I see 
 it is useless to speak of myself and my own fate and feelings ; 
 only remember, Endymion, I have never deceived you. I can 
 not endure any longer this state of affairs. When in a few 
 days we part, we shall never meet again. And all the devotion 
 of Myra will end in your destroying her." 
 
 ** My own, my beloved Myra, do with me what you like. 
 If—" 
 
 At this moment there was a gentle tap at the door, and the 
 king entered. 
 
 "My angel," he said, "and you too my dear Endymion. 
 I have some news from England which I fear may distress you. 
 Lord Montfort is dead." 
 
 CHAPTEE XCYI. 
 
 There was ever, when separated, an uninterrupted corre- 
 spondence between Berengaria and Endymion. They wrote to 
 each other every day, so that when they met again there was 
 no void in their lives and mutual experience, and each was 
 acquainted with almost every feeling and incident that had 
 been proved, or had occurred, since they parted. The start- 
 ling news, however, communicated by the king had not previ- 
 ously reached Endymion, because he was on the eve of his re- 
 turn to England, and his correspondents had been requested to 
 direct their future letters to his residence in London. 
 
 His voyage home was an agitated one, and not sanguine or 
 inspiriting. There was a terrible uncertainty in the future. 
 What were the feelings of Lady Montfort toward himself ? 
 Friendly, kind, affectionate, in a certain sense, even devoted, 
 no doubt ; but all consistent with a deep and determined 
 friendship which sought and wished for no return more ar- 
 
444 ENDTMIOK 
 
 dent. But now she was free. Yes, but would slie again for- 
 feit her freedom ? And if she did, would it not be to attain 
 some great end, probably the great end of her life ? Lady 
 Montfort was a woman of far-reaching ambition. In a certain 
 degree, she had married to secure her lofty aims ; and yet it 
 was only by her singular energy, and the playfulness and high 
 spirit of her temperament, that the sacrifice had not proved a 
 failure; her success, however, was limited, for the ally on 
 whom she had counted rarely assisted and never sympathized 
 with her. It was true she admired and even loved her hus- 
 band ; her vanity, which was not slight, was gratified by her 
 conquest of one whom it had seemed no one could subdue, and 
 who apparently placed at her feet all the power and magnifi- 
 cence which she appreciated. 
 
 Poor Endymion, who loved her passionately, over whom 
 she exercised the influence of a divinity, who would do nothing 
 without consulting her, and who was molded, and who wished 
 to be molded, in all his thoughts and feelings, and acts, and 
 conduct, by her inspiring will, was also a shrewd man of the 
 world, and did not permit his sentiment to cloud his percep- 
 tion of life and its doings. lie felt that Lady Montfort had 
 fallen from a lofty position, and she was not of a temperament 
 that would quietly brook her fate. Instead of being the mis- 
 tress of castles and palaces, with princely means, and all the 
 splendid accidents of life at her command, she was now a dow- 
 ager with a jointure ! Still young, with her charms unim- 
 paired, heightened even by the maturity of her fascinating 
 qualities, would she endure this ? She might retain her friend- 
 ship for one who, as his sister ever impressed upon him, had 
 no root in the land, and even that friendship he felt conscious 
 must yield much of its entireness and intimacy to the influence 
 of new ties ; but for their lives ever being joined together, as 
 had sometimes been his wild dream, his cheek, though alone, 
 burned with the consciousness of his folly and self-decep- 
 tion. 
 
 "He is one of our rising statesmen," whispered the captain 
 of the vessel to a passenger, as Endymion, silent, lonely, and 
 absorbed, walked, as was his daily custom, the quarter-deck. 
 
AMUSEMENTS AT PRINCEDOWK 445 
 
 "I dare say he has a good load on his mind. Do you 
 know, I would sooner be a captain of a ship than a minister 
 of state ? " 
 
 Poor Endymion ! Yes, he bore his burden, but it was not 
 secrets of state that oyerwhelmed him. If his mind for a mo- 
 ment qiritted the contemplation of Lady Montfort, it was only 
 to encounter the recollection of a heartrending separation from 
 his sister, and his strange and now perplexing relations with 
 Adriana. 
 
 Lord Montfort had passed the summer, as he had an- 
 nounced, at Princedown, and alone ; that is to say, without 
 Lady Montfort. She wrote to him frequently, and if she 
 omitted doing so for a longer interval than usual, he would 
 indite to her a little note, always courteous, sometimes almost 
 kind, reminding her that her letters amused him, and that of 
 late they had been rarer than he wished. Lady Montfort her- 
 self made Montfort Castle her home, paying sometimes a visit 
 to her family in the neighborhood, and sometimes receiving 
 them and other guests. Lord Montfort himself did not live in 
 absolute solitude. He had society always at command. lie 
 always had a court about him ; equerries, and secretaries, and 
 doctors, and odd and amusing men whom they found out for 
 him, and who were well pleased to find themselves in his beau- 
 tiful and magnificent Princedown, wandering in woods and 
 parks and pleasaunces, devouring his choice entrees, and quaff- 
 ing his curious wines. Sometimes he dined with them, some- 
 times a few dined with him, sometimes he was not seen for 
 weeks ; but whether he were visible or not, he was the subject 
 of constant thought and conversation by all under his roof. 
 
 Lord Montfort, it may be remembered, was a great fisher- 
 man. It was the only sport which retained a hold upon him. 
 The solitude, the charming scenery, and the requisite skill, 
 combined to please him. He had a love for nature, and he 
 gratified it in this pursuit. His domain abounded in those 
 bright chalky streams which the trout love. He liked to watch 
 the moor-hens, too, and especially a kingfisher. 
 
 Lord Montfort came home late one day after much wading. 
 It had been a fine day for anglers, soft and not too bright, and 
 
446 ENDYMIOK 
 
 be had been tempted to remain long in the water. He drove 
 home rapidly, but it was in an open carriage, and when the 
 Bun set there was a cold autumnal breeze. He complained at 
 night, and said he had been chilled. There was always a doc- 
 tor under the roof, who felt his patient's pulse, ordered the 
 usual remedies, and encouraged him. Lord Montfort passed 
 a bad night, and his physician in the morning found fever, and 
 feared there were symptoms of pleurisy. He prescribed accord- 
 ingly, but summoned from town two great authorities. The 
 great authorities did not an'ive until the next day. They ap- 
 proved of everything that had been done, but shook their heads. 
 **No immediate danger, but serious." 
 
 Four-and-twenty hours afterward they inquired of Lord 
 Montfort whether they should send for his wife. ** On no ac- 
 count whatever," he replied. "My orders on this head are 
 absolute." Nevertheless they did send for Lady Montfort, and 
 as there was even then a telegraph to the north, Berengaria, 
 who departed from her castle instantly, and traveled all night, 
 arrived in eight-and-forty hours at Princedown. The state of 
 Lord Montfort then was critical. 
 
 It was broken to Lord Montfort that his wife had arrived. 
 
 "I perceive then," he replied, " that I am going to die, be- 
 cause I am disobeyed." 
 
 These were the last words he uttered. He turned in his 
 bed as it were to conceal his countenance, and expired without 
 a sigh or sound. 
 
 There was not a single person at Princedown in whom Lady 
 Montfort could confide. She had summoned the family solici- 
 tor, but he could not arrive until the next day, and until he 
 came she insisted that none of her late lord's papers should be 
 touched. She at first thought he had made a will, because 
 otherwise all his property would go to his cousin, whom he 
 particularly hated, and yet on reflection she could hardly fancy 
 his making a will. It was a trouble to him — a disagreeable 
 trouble ; and there was nobody she knew whom he would care 
 to benefit. He was not a man who would leave anything to 
 hospitals and charities. Therefore, on the whole, she arrived 
 at the conclusion he had not made a will, though all the guests 
 
LONELINESS. 447 
 
 at Princedown were of a different opinion, and each was calcu- 
 lating the amount of his own legacy. 
 
 At last the lawyer arrived, and he brought the will with 
 him. It was very short, and not very recent. Everything he 
 had in the world except the settled estates, Montfort Castle 
 and Montfort House, he bequeathed to his wife. It was a vast 
 inheritance ; not only Princedown, but great accumulations of 
 personal property, for Lord Montfort was fond of amassing, 
 and admired the sweet simplicity of the three per cents. 
 
 CHAPTER XCVII. 
 
 Wheit Endymion arrived in London he found among his 
 letters two brief notes from Lady Montfort ; one hurriedly 
 written at Montfort Castle at the moment of her departure, and 
 another from Princedown, with these words only, "All is 
 over." More than a week had elapsed since the last was writ- 
 ten, and he had already learned from the newspapers that the 
 funeral had taken place. It was a painful but still necessary 
 duty to fulfill, to write to her, which he did, but he received 
 no answer to his letter of sympathy, and to a certain degree, 
 of condolence. Time flew on, but he could not venture to 
 write again, and without any absolute cause for his discomfort, 
 he felt harassed and unhappy. He had been so accustomed all 
 his life to exist under the genial influence of women that his 
 present days seemed lone and dark. His sister and Berengaria, 
 two of the most gifted and charming beings in the world, had 
 seemed to agree that their first duty had ever been to sympa- 
 thize with his fortunes and to aid them. Even his correspond- 
 ence with Myra was changed. There was a tone of constraint 
 in their communications ; perhaps it was the great alteration 
 in her position that occasioned it ? His heart assured him that 
 such was not the case. He felt deeply and acutely what was 
 the cause. The subject most interesting to both of them could 
 not be touched on. And then he thought of Adriana, and 
 contrasted his dull and solitary home in Hill Street with what 
 
448 END YM I ON. 
 
 it might haye been, graced by her presence, animated by her 
 deyotion, and softened by the sweetness of her temper. 
 
 Endymion began to feel that the run of his good fortune 
 was dried. His sister, when he had a trouble, would never 
 hear of this ; she always held that the misery and calamities of 
 their early years had exhausted the influence of their evil stars, 
 and apparently she had been right, and perhaps she would have 
 always been right had he not been perverse, and thwarted her 
 in the most important circumstances of his life. 
 
 In this state of mind, there was nothing for him to do but 
 to plunge into business ; and affairs of state are a cure for many 
 cares and sorrows. What are our petty annoyances and griefs 
 when we have to guard the fortunes and the honor of a na- 
 tion ? 
 
 The November cabinets had commenced, and this brought 
 all the chiefs to town, Sidney Wilton among them ; and his 
 society was always a great pleasure to Endymion ; the only 
 social pleasure now left to him was a little dinner at Mr. Wil- 
 ton's, and little dinners there abounded. Mr. Wilton knew 
 all the persons that he was always thinking about, but whom, 
 it might be noticed, they seemed to agree now rarely to men- 
 tion. As for the rest, there was nobody to call upon in the 
 delightful hours between official duties and dinner. No Lady 
 Roehampton now, no brilliant Berengaria, not even the gentle 
 Imogene with her welcome smile. He looked in at the Coven- 
 try Club, a club of fashion, and also much frequented by di- 
 plomatists. There were a good many persons there, and a for- 
 eign minister immediately buttonholed the Under-Secretary 
 of State. 
 
 "I called at the Foreign Office to-day," said the foreign 
 minister. ** I assure you it is very pressing." 
 
 " I had the American with me," said Endymion, " and he 
 is lengthy. However, as to your business, I think we might 
 talk it over here, and perhaps settle it." And so they left the 
 room together. 
 
 ** I wonder what is going to happen to that gentleman," 
 said Mr. Ormsby, glancing at Endymion, and speaking to Mr. 
 Cassilis. 
 
A WELCOME LETTER. 449 
 
 ''Why ?" replied Mr. Cassilis, *' is anything up ? " 
 
 "Will he marry Lady Montfort ?" 
 
 " Poh ! " said Mr. Cassilis. 
 
 '* You may poh !" said Mr. Ormsby, ''but he was a great 
 faYorite." 
 
 " Lady Montfort will never maiTy. She had always a poo- 
 dle, and always will have. She was never so Uee with Ferrars 
 as with the Count of Ferroll, and half a dozen others. She 
 must have a slave." 
 
 "A very good mistress with thirty thousand a year." 
 
 " She has not that," said Mr. Cassilis, doubtingly. 
 
 " What do you put Princedown at ? " said Mr. Ormsby. 
 
 "That I can tell you to a T," replied Mr. Cassilis, " for it 
 was offered to me when old Eambrook died. You will never 
 get twelve thousand a year out of it." 
 
 "Well, I will answer for half a million Consols," said 
 Ormsby, "for my lawyer, when he made a little investment 
 for me the other day, saw the entry himself in the bank-books ; 
 our names are very near, you know — M, and O. Then there 
 is her jointure, something like ten thousand a year." 
 
 "No, no ; not seven." 
 
 " Well, that would do." 
 
 "And what is the amount of your little investment in Con- 
 sols altogether, Ormsby ? " 
 
 " Well, I believe I top Montfort," said Mr. Ormsby with a 
 complacent smile, " but then you know, I am not a swell like 
 you ; I have no land." 
 
 "Lady Montfort, thirty thousand a year," said Mr. Cassi- 
 lis, musingly. "She is only thirty. She is a woman who will 
 set the Thames on fire, but she will never marry. Do you dine 
 to-day, by any chance, with Sidney Wilton ? " 
 
 When Endymion returned home this evening he found a 
 letter from Lady Montfort. It was a month since he had writ- 
 ten to her. He was so nervous that he absolutely for a mo- 
 ment could not break the seal, and the palpitation of his heart 
 was almost overpowering. 
 
 Lady Montfort thanked him for his kind letter, which she 
 ought to have acknowledged before, but she had been very 
 
450 ENDYMION, 
 
 busy — indeed, quite overwhelmed with affairs. She wished to 
 see him, but was sorry she could not ask him down to Prince- 
 down, as she was living in complete retirement, only her aunt 
 with her. Lady Gertrude, whom, she believed, he knew. He 
 was aware probably how good Lord Montfort had been to her. 
 Sincerely she could say, nothing could have been more unex- 
 pected. If she could have seen her husband before the fatal 
 moment, it would have been a consolation to her. He had 
 always been kind to Endymion ; she really believed sometimes 
 that Lord Montfort was even a little attached to him. She 
 should like Endymion to have some souvenir of her late hus- 
 band. Would he choose something, or would he leave it to 
 her? 
 
 One would rather agree, from the tone of this letter, that 
 Mr. Cassilis knew what he was talking about. It fell rather 
 cold on Endymion's heart, and he passed a night of some dis- 
 quietude ; not one of those nights, exactly, when we feel that 
 the end of the world has at length arrived, and that we are the 
 first victim, but a night when you slumber rather than sleep, 
 and wake with the consciousness of some indefinable chagrin I 
 
 This was a dull Christmas for Endymion Ferrars. He 
 passed it, as he had passed others, at Gaydene, but what a con- 
 trast to the old assemblies there. Every source of excitement 
 that could make existence absolutely fascinating seemed then 
 to unite in his happy fate. Entrancing love and the very 
 romance of domestic affection, and friendships of honor and 
 happiness, and all the charms of an accomplished society, and 
 the feeling of a noble future, and the present and urgent inter- 
 est in national affairs — all gone, except some ambition which 
 might tend to consequences not more successful than those 
 that had ultimately visited his house with irreparable calamity. 
 
 The meeting of Parliament was a great relief to Endymion. 
 Besides his office he had now the House of Commons to occupy 
 him. He was never absent from his place ; no little runnings 
 up to Montfort House or Hill Street just to tell them the au- 
 thentic news, or snatch a hasty repast with furtive delight, with 
 persons still more delightful, and flattering one's self all the 
 time that, so far as absence was concerned, the fleetness of one's 
 
Iir GROSVEh^OE SQUARE. 451 
 
 gifted brougham horse really made it no difference between 
 Majfair and Bellamy's. 
 
 Endymion had replied, but not very quickly, to Lady Mont- 
 fort's letter, and he had heard from her again, but her letter 
 requiring no reply, the correspondence had dropped. It was 
 the beginning of March when she wrote to him to say, that she 
 was obliged to come to town to see her lawyer and transact 
 some business; that she would be "at papa's in Grosvenor 
 Square," though the house was shut up, on a certain day, that 
 she much wished to see Endymion, and begged him to call 
 on her. 
 
 It was a trying moment when about noon he lifted the 
 knocker in Grosvenor Square. The door was not opened rap- 
 idly, and the delay made him more nervous. He almost wished 
 the door would never open. He was shown into a small back 
 room on the ground floor in which was a bookcase, and which 
 chamber in the language of Grosvenor Square is called a 
 library. 
 
 " Her ladyship will see you presently," said the servant, 
 who had come up from Princedown. 
 
 Endymion was standing before the fire, and as nervous as a 
 man could well be. He sighed, and he sighed more than once. 
 His breathing was oppressed ; he felt that life was too short to 
 permit us to experience such scenes and situations. He heard 
 the lock of the door move, and it required all his manliness to 
 endure it. 
 
 She entered ; she was in weeds, but they became her ad- 
 mirably ; her countenance was grave and apparently with an 
 effort to command it. She did not move hurriedly, but held 
 out both her hands to Endymion and retained his, and all with- 
 out speaking. Her lips then seemed to move, when, rather 
 suddenly, withdrawing her right hand, and placing it on his 
 shoulder, and burying her face in her arm, she wept. 
 
 He led her soothingly to a seat, and took a chair by her 
 side. Not a word had yet been spoken by either of them ; 
 only a murmur of sympathy on the part of Endymion. Lady 
 Montfort spoke first. 
 
 " I am weaker than I thought, but it is a great trial." And 
 
452 END7MI0K 
 
 then she said how sorry she was, that she could not receive him 
 at Princedown ; but she thought it best that he should not go 
 there. " I have a great deal of business to transact — you would 
 not believe how much. I do not dislike it, it occupies me, it 
 employs my mind. I have led so active a life, that solitude is 
 rather too much for me. Among other business, I must buy a 
 town house, and that is the most difficult of affairs. There 
 never was so great a city with such small houses. I shall feel the 
 loss of Montf ort House, though I never used it half so much as 
 I wished. I want a mansion ; I should think you could help me 
 in this. When I return to society, I mean to receive. There 
 must be therefore good reception rooms : if possible, more than 
 good. And now let us talk about our friends. Tell me all 
 about your royal sister, and this new marriage ; it rather sur- 
 prised me, but I think it excellent. Ah, you can keep a se- 
 cret, but you see it is no use having a secret with me. Even 
 in solitude everything reaches me." 
 
 " I assure you most seriously, that I can annex no meaning 
 to what you are saying." 
 
 ** Then I can hardly think it true ; and yet it came from 
 high authority, and it was not told to me as a real secret." 
 
 "A marriage, and whose ?" 
 
 ** Miss Neuchatel's — Adriana." 
 
 "And to whom ?" inquired Endymion, changing color. 
 
 " To Lord Waldershare." 
 
 " To Lord Waldershare ! " 
 
 "And has not your sister mentioned it to you ?" 
 
 " Not a word ; it can not be true." 
 
 "I will give to you my authority," said Lady Montfort. 
 " Tliough I came here in the twilight in a hired brougham, 
 and with a veil, I was caught before I could enter the house 
 by, of all people in the world, Mrs. Rodney. And she told m^ 
 this in what she called 'real confidence,' and it was an- 
 nounced to her in a letter from her sister, Lady Beaumaris. 
 They seem all delighted with the match." 
 
ENDYMION'S FASCIKATIOK. 453 
 
 CHAPTER XCVIII. 
 
 This marriage of Adriana was not an event calculated to 
 calm the uneasy and dissatisfied temperament of Endymion. 
 The past rendered it impossible that this announcement should 
 not in some degree affect him. Then the silence of his sister 
 on such a subject was too significant ; the silence eyen of.Wal- 
 dershare. Somehow or other, it seemed that all these once 
 dear and deyoted friends stood in different relations to him 
 and to each other from what they once filled. They had be- 
 come more near and intimate together, but he seemed without 
 the pale ; he, that Endymion, who once seemed the prime ob- 
 ject, if not the center, of all their thoughts and sentiment. 
 And why was this ? What was the influence that had swayed 
 him to a line contrary to what was once their hopes and affec- 
 tions ? Had he an evil genius ? And was it she ? Horrible 
 thought ! 
 
 The interview with Lady Montfort had been deeply inter- 
 esting — ^had for a moment restored him to himself. Had it not 
 been for this news, he might have returned home, soothed, 
 gratified, even again indulging in dreams. But this news had 
 made him ponder ; had made him feel what he had lost, and 
 forced him to ask himself what he had gained. 
 
 There was one thing he had gained, and that was the privi- 
 lege of calling on Lady Montfort the next day. That was a 
 fact that sometimes dissipated all the shadows. Under the 
 immediate influence of her presence, he became spellbound as 
 of yore, and in the intoxication of her beauty, the brightness 
 of her mind, and her ineffable attraction, he felt he would be 
 content with any lot, provided he might retain her kind 
 thoughts and pass much of his life in her society. 
 
 She was only staying three or four days in town, and was 
 much engaged in the mornings ; but Endymion called on her 
 every afternoon, and sat talking with her till dinner-time, and 
 they both dined very late. As he really on personal and do- 
 mestic affairs never could have any reserve with her, he told 
 her, in that complete confidence in which they always indulged. 
 
454 EKDTMIOK 
 
 of the extraordinary revelation which his sister had made to 
 liim about the parliamentary qualification. Lady Montfort 
 was deeply interested in this ; she was even agitated, and looked 
 very grave. 
 
 "I am sorry," she said, *' we know this. Things can not 
 remain now as they are. You can not return the money, that 
 would be churlish ; besides, you can not return all the advan- 
 tages, which it gained for you, and they must certainly be con- 
 sidered part of the gift, and the most precious ; and then, too, 
 it would betray what your sister rightly called a ' sacred con- 
 fidence.' And yet something must be done — you must let me 
 think. Do not mention it again." And then they talked a 
 little of public affairs. Lady Montfort saw no one, and heard 
 from no one now ; but judging from the journals, she thought 
 the position of the government feeble. " There can not be a 
 Protectionist government," she said, *'and yet that is the only 
 parliamentary party of importance. Things will go on till 
 some blow, and perhaps a slight one, will upset you all. And 
 then who is to succeed ? I think some queer melange got up 
 perhaps by Mr. Bertie Tremaine." 
 
 The last day came. She parted from Endymion with kind- 
 ness, but not with tenderness. He was choking with emotion, 
 and tried to imitate her calmness. 
 
 " Am I to write to you ? " he asked in a faltering voice. 
 
 ** Of course you are," she said, "every day, and tell me all 
 the news." 
 
 The Hainaults, and the Beaumaris, and Waldershare, did 
 not return to England until some time after Easter. The mar- 
 riage was to take place in June — Endymion was to be Walder« 
 share's best man. There were many festivities, and he was 
 looked upon as an indispensable guest in all. Adriana received 
 his congratulations with animation, but with affection. She 
 thanked him for a bracelet which he had presented to her ; ** I 
 value it more," she said, "than all my other presents together, 
 except what dear Waldershare has given to me." Even with 
 that exception, the estimate was high, for never a bride in any 
 land ever received the number of splendid offerings which 
 crowded the tables of Lord Hainault's new palace, which he 
 
LADY MONTFOET'S NEW HOUSE, 455 
 
 had just built in Park Lane. There was not a Neuchatel in 
 existence, and they flourished in every community, who did 
 not send her, at least, a riviere of brilliants. King Florestan 
 and his queen sent offerings worthy of their resplendent throne 
 and their invaluable friendship. But nothing surpassed, no- 
 thing approached, the contents of a casket, which, a day be- 
 fore the wedding, arrived at Hainault house. It came from 
 a foreign land, and Waldershare superintended the opening of 
 the case, and the appearance of a casket of crimson velvet, with 
 genuine excitement. But when it was opened ! There was 
 a coronet of brilliants ; a necklace of brilliants and emeralds, 
 and one of sapphires and brilliants ; and dazzling bracelets, 
 and all the stones more than precious ; gems of Golconda no 
 longer obtainable, and lustrous companions which only could 
 have been created in the hot earth of Asia. From whom ? 
 Not a glimpse of meaning. All that was written, in a foreign 
 handwriting on a sheet of note-paper, was, " For the Lady Vis- 
 countess Waldershare." 
 
 *' When the revolution comes," said Lord Hainault, *^ Lord 
 Waldershare and my daughter must turn jewelers. Their stock 
 in trade is ready." 
 
 The correspondence between Lady Montfort and Endymion 
 had resumed its ancient habit. They wrote to each other 
 every day, and one day she told him that she had purchased a 
 house, and that she must come up to town to examine and 
 furnish it. She probably should be a month in London, and 
 remaining there until the end of the season, in whose amuse- 
 ments and business, of course, she could not share. She should 
 */ be at papa's," though he and his family were in town ; but 
 that was no reason why Endymion should not call on her. 
 And he came, and called every day. Lady Montfort was full 
 of her new house ; it was in Carlton Gardens, the house she 
 always wished, always intended to have. There is nothing 
 like will ; everybody can do exactly what they like in this 
 world, provided they really like it. Sometimes they think 
 they do, but in general, it is a mistake. Lady Montfort, it 
 seemed, was a woman who always could do what she liked. 
 She could do what she liked with Endymion Ferrars ; that was 
 
456 ENDYMION. 
 
 quite certain. Supposed by men to have a strong will and a 
 calm judgment, he was a nose of wax with this woman. He 
 was fascinated by her, and he had been fascinated now for 
 nearly ten years. What would be the result of this irresistible 
 influence upon him ? Would it make or mar those fortunes 
 that once seemed so promising ? The philosophers of White's 
 and the Coventry were generally of opinion that he had no 
 chance. 
 
 Lady Montfort was busy every morning with her new house, 
 but she never asked Endymion to accompany her, though it 
 seemed natural to do so. But he saw her every day, and 
 "papa," who was a most kind and courtly gentleman, would 
 often ask him, " if he had nothing better to do," to dine there, 
 and he dined there frequently ; and if he were engaged, he 
 was always of opinion that he had nothing better to do. 
 
 At last, however, the season was over ; the world had gone 
 to Goodwood, and Lady Montfort was about to depart to 
 Princedown. It was a dreary prospect for Endymion, and he 
 could not conceal his feelings. He could not help saying one 
 day, " Do you know, now that you are going I almost wish to 
 die." 
 
 Alas ! she only laughed. But he looked grave. " I am 
 very unhappy," he sighed rather than uttered. I 
 
 She looked at him with seriousness. " I do not think our 
 separation need be very long. Papa and all my family are 
 coming to me in September to pay me a very long visit. I 
 really do not see why you should not come too." 
 
 Endymion's countenance mantled with rapture. "If I 
 might come, I think I should be the happiest of men ! " 
 
 The month that was to elapse before his visit, Endymion 
 was really, as he said, the happiest of men ; at least, the world 
 thought him so. He seemed to walk upon tiptoe. Parlia- 
 ment was prorogued, office was consigned to permanent secre- 
 taries, and our youthful statesman seemed only to live to enjoy, 
 and add to, the revelry of existence. Now at Cowes, now 
 stalking in the highlands, dancing at balls in the wilderness, 
 and running races of fantastic feats, full of health, and frolic, 
 and charm ; he was the delight of society, while, the whole 
 
A DAY IN LONDOK 457 
 
 time, he had only one thought, and that was the sacred day 
 when he should again see the being whom he adored, and that 
 in her beautiful home, which her presence made more lovely. 
 
 Yes ! he was again at Princedown, in the bosom of her 
 family ; none others there ; treated like one of themselves. 
 The courtly father pressed his hand ; the amiable and refined 
 mother smiled upon him ; the daughters, pretty, and natural 
 as the air, treated him as if they were sisters, and even the 
 eldest son, who generally hates you, after a little stiffness, an- 
 nounced in a tone never questioned under the family roof, that 
 "Ferrars was a first-rate shot." 
 
 And so a month rolled on ; immensely happy, as any man 
 who has loved, and loved in a beautiful scene, alone can under- 
 stand. One morning Lady Montfort said to him, " I must go 
 up to London about my house. I want to go and return the 
 same day. Do you know, I think you had better come with 
 me ? You shall give me a luncheon in Hill Street, and we 
 shall be back by the last train. It will be late, but we shall 
 wake in the morning in the country, and that I always think a 
 great thing." 
 
 And so it happened ; they rose early and arrived in town 
 in time to give them a tolerably long morning. She took him 
 to her house in Carlton Gardens, and showed to him exactly 
 how it was all she wanted ; accommodation for a first-rate 
 establishment ; and then the reception rooms, few houses in 
 London could compare with them ; a gallery and three saloons. 
 Then they descended to the dining-room. *' It is a dining- 
 room, not a banqueting hall," she said, *^ which we had at 
 Montfort House, but still it is much larger than most dining- 
 rooms in London. But, I think this room, at least I hope you 
 do, quite charming," and she took him to a room almost as 
 large as the dining-room, arid looking into the garden. It was 
 fitted up with exquisite taste ; calm subdued coloring, with 
 choice marble busts of statesmen, ancient and of our times, 
 but the shelves were empty. 
 
 " They are empty," she said, "but the volumes to fill them 
 are already collected. Yes," she added in a tremulous voice, 
 and slightly pressing the arm on which she leant. "If you 
 
 20 
 
^58 ENDYMION, 
 
 will deign to accept it, this is the chamber I have prepared for 
 you." 
 
 '* Dearest of women ! " and he took her hand. 
 
 " Yes," she murmured, " help me to realize the dream of 
 my life ; " and she touched his forehead with her lips. 
 
 CHAPTER XCIX. 
 
 The marriage of Mr. Ferrars with Lady Montfort surprised 
 some, but, on the whole, pleased everybody. They were both 
 of them popular, and no one seemed to envy them their happi- 
 ness and prosperity. The union took place at a season of the 
 year when there was no London world to observe and to criti- 
 cise. It was a quiet ceremony ; they went down to Northum- 
 berland to Lady Montfort's father, and they were married in 
 his private chapel. After that they went off immediately to 
 pay a visit to King Florestan and his queen ; Myra had sent 
 her a loving letter. 
 
 " Perhaps it will be the first time that your sister ever saw 
 me with satisfaction," remarked Lady Montfort, " but I think 
 she will love me now 1 I always loved her ; perhaps because 
 she is so like you." 
 
 It was a happy meeting and a delightful visit. They did 
 not talk much of the past. The enormous change in the posi- 
 tion of their host and hostess since the first days of their ac- 
 quaintance, and, on their own part, some indefinite feeling of 
 delicate reserve, combined to make them rather dwell on a 
 present which was full of novelty so attractive and so absorb- 
 ing. In his manner, the king was unchanged ; he was never 
 a demonstrative person, but simple, unaffected, rather silent, 
 with a sweet temper and a tender manner, he seemed to be 
 gratified that he had the power of conferring happiness on 
 those around him. His feeling to his queen was one of idola- 
 try, and she received Berengaria as a sister and a much loved 
 one. Their presence and the season of the year made their 
 
A PAPAL BULL. 459 
 
 life a festival, and when they parted, there were entreaties and 
 promises that the visit should be often repeated. 
 
 ^' Adieu ! my Endymion," said Myra at the last moment 
 they were alone. *^A11 has happened for you beyond my 
 hopes ; all now is safe. I might wish we were in the same 
 land, but not if I lost my husband, whom I adore." 
 
 The reason that forced them to curtail their royal visit was 
 the state of politics at home, which had suddenly become criti- 
 cal. There were symptoms, and considerable ones, of disturb- 
 ance and danger when they departed for their wedding tour, 
 but they could not prevail on themselves to sacrifice a visit 
 on which they had counted so much, and which could not be 
 fulfilled on another occasion under the same interesting cir- 
 cumstances. Besides, the position of Mr. Ferrars, though an 
 important, was a subordinate one, and though cabinet minis- 
 ters were not justified in leaving the country, an under secre- 
 tary of state and a bridegroom might, it would seem, depart on 
 his irresponsible holiday. Mr. Sidney Wilton, however, shook 
 his head; ''I do not like the state of affairs," he said. "I 
 think you will have to come back sooner than you imagine." 
 
 ** You are not going to be so foolish as to have an early 
 session ? " inquired Lady Montf ort. 
 
 He only shrugged his shoulders, and said, ** We are in a 
 mess." 
 
 What mess ? and what was the state of affairs ? 
 
 This had happened. At the end of the autumn, his holi- 
 ness the pope had made half a dozen new cardinals, and to the 
 surprise of the world, and the murmurs of the Italians, there 
 appeared among them the name of an Englishman, Nigel Pen- 
 ruddock, archbishop ui parfibus. Shortly after this, a papal 
 bull "given at St. Peter's, Eome, under the seal of the fisher- 
 man," was issued, establishing a Romish hierarchy in England. 
 This was soon followed by a pastoral letter by the new cardinal 
 " given out of the Appian Gate," announcing that "Catholic 
 England had been restored to its orbit in the ecclesiastical 
 firmament." 
 
 The country at first was more stupefied than alarmed. It 
 was conscious that something extraordinary had happened, and 
 
460 ENDTMION. 
 
 some great action taken by an ecclesiastical power, which from 
 tradition it was ever inclined to view with suspicion and some 
 fear. But it held its breath for a while. It so happened that 
 the prime minister was a member of a great house which had 
 become illustrious by its profession of Protestant principles, 
 and even by its sufferings in a cause which England had once 
 looked on as sacred. The prime minister, a man of distin- 
 guished ability, not devoid even of genius, was also a wily poli- 
 tician, and of almost unrivaled experience in the management 
 of political parties. The ministry was weak and nearly worn 
 out, and its chief, influenced partly by noble and historical 
 sentiments, partly by a conviction that he had a fine occasion 
 to rally the confidence of the country round himself and his 
 friends, and to restore the repute of his political connection, 
 thought fit, without consulting his colleagues, to publish a 
 manifesto denouncing the aggression of the pope upon our 
 Protestantism as insolent and insidious, and as expressing a 
 pretension of supremacy over the realm of England which made 
 the minister indignant. 
 
 A confused public wanted to be led, and now they were led. 
 They sprang to their feet like an armed man. The corporation 
 of London, the universities of Oxford and Cambridge had 
 audiences of the Queen ; the counties met, the municipalities 
 memorialized ; before the first of January there had been held 
 nearly seven thousand public meetings, asserting the supremacy 
 of the Queen, and calling on Her Majesty's Government to vin- 
 dicate it by stringent measures. 
 
 Unfortunately, it was soon discovered by the minister that 
 there had been nothing illegal in the conduct of the pope or 
 the cardinal, and a considerable portion of the Liberal party 
 began to express the inconvenient opinion, that the manifesto 
 of their chief was opposed to those principles of civil and reli- 
 gious liberty of which he was the hereditary champion. Some 
 influential members of his own cabinet did not conceal their 
 disapprobation of a step on which they had not been consulted. 
 
 Immediately after Christmas, Endymion and Lady Montf ort 
 settled in London. She was anxious to open her new mansion 
 as soon as Parliament met, and to organize continuous recep- 
 
A CRISIS. 461 
 
 tions. She looked upon the ministry as in a critical state, and 
 thought it was an occasion when social influences might not 
 inconsiderably assist them. 
 
 But though she exhibited for this object her wonted energy 
 and high spirit, a fine observer — Mr. Sidney Wilton for exam- 
 ple — might have detected a change in the manner of Berenga- 
 ria. Though the strength of her character was unaltered, there 
 was an absence of that restlessness, it might be said, that some- 
 what feverish excitement, from which formerly she was not al- 
 ways free. The truth is her heart was satisfied, and that brought 
 repose. Feelings of affection, long mortified and pent up, were 
 now lavished and concentrated on a husband of her heart and 
 adoration, and she was proud that his success and greatness 
 might be avowed as the objects of her life. 
 
 The campaign, however, for which such preparations were 
 made, ended almost before it began. The ministry, on the 
 meeting of Parliament, found themselves with a discontented 
 House of Commons, and discordant counsels among themselves. 
 The anti-papal manifesto was the secret cause of this evil state, 
 but the prime minister, to avoid such a mortifying admission, 
 took advantage of two unfavorable divisions on other matters, 
 and resigned. 
 
 Here was a crisis — another crisis ! Could the untried Pro- 
 tectionists without men form an administration ? It was whis- 
 pered that Lord Derby had been sent for and declined the at- 
 tempt. Then there was another rumor that he was going to 
 try. Mr. Bertie Tremaine looked mysterious. The time for 
 the third party had clearly arrived. It was known that he had 
 the list of the next ministry in his breast-pocket, but it was 
 only shown to Mr. Tremaine Bertie, who confided in secrecy to 
 the initiated that it was the strongest government since '*' All 
 the Talents." 
 
 Notwithstanding this great opportunity, "All the Talents" 
 were not summoned. The leader of the Protectionists re- 
 nounced the attempt in despair, and the author of the anti-papal 
 manifesto was again sent for, and obliged to introduce the 
 measure which had already destroyed a government and disor- 
 ganized a party. 
 
462 ENDYMION, 
 
 "Sidney Wilton," said Lady Montfort to her husband, J 
 "says that they are in the mud, and he for one will not go ' 
 back — but he will go. I know him. He is too soft-hearted to 
 stand an appeal from colleagues in distress. But were I you, j 
 Endymion, I would not return. I think you want a little rest, ' 
 or you have got a great deal of private business to attend to, 
 or something of that kind. Nobody notices the withdrawal of 
 an under secretary except those in ofi&ce. There is no neces- 
 sity why you should be in the mud. I will continue to receive, 
 and do everything that is possible for our friends, but I think 
 my husband has been an under secretary long enough." 
 
 Endymron quite agreed with his wife. The minister of- 
 fered him preferment and the Privy Council, but Lady Mont- 
 fort said it was really not so important as the office he had 
 resigned. She was resolved that he should not return to them, 
 and she had her way. Ferrars himself now occupied a rather 
 peculiar position, being the master of a great fortune and of 
 an establishment which was the headquarters of the party of 
 which he was now only a private member ; but calm and col- 
 lected he did not lose his head ; always said and did the right 
 thing, and never forgot his early acquaintances. Trenchard 
 was his bosom political friend. Seymour Hicks, who through 
 Endymion's kindness had now got into the Treasury, and was 
 quite fashionable, had the run of the House, and made himself 
 marvelously useful, while St. Barbe, who had become by mis- 
 take a member of the Conservative club, drank his frequent 
 claret cup every Saturday evening at Lady Montfort's recep- 
 tions with many pledges to the welfare of the Liberal adminis- 
 tration. 
 
 The flag of the Tory party waved over the magnificent 
 mansion of which Imogene Beaumaris was the graceful life. 
 As parties were nearly equal, and the ministry was supposed 
 to be in decay, the rival reception was as well attended as that 
 of Berengaria. The two great leaders were friends, intimate, 
 but not perhaps quite so intimate as a few years before. " Lady 
 Montfort is very kind to me," Imogene would say, "but I do 
 not think she now quite remembers we are cousins." Both 
 Lord and Lady Waldershare seemed equally devoted to Lady 
 
HAPPmESS, 463 
 
 Beaumaris. "I do not think," he would say, ''that I shall 
 ever get Adriana to receive. It is an organic gift, and very 
 rare. What I mean to do is to have a first-rate villa and give 
 the party strawberries. I always say Adriana is like Nell Gwyn, 
 and she shall go about with a pottle. One never sees a pottle 
 of strawberries now. I believe they went out, like all good 
 things, with the Sfcuarts." 
 
 And so, after all these considerable events, the season rolled 
 on and closed tranquilly. Lord and Lady Hainault continued 
 to give banquets, over which the hostess sighed ; Sir Peter 
 Vigo had the wisdom to retain his millions, which few manage 
 to do, as it is admitted that it is easier to make a fortune than 
 to keep one. Mrs. Eodney, supremely habited, still drove her 
 ponies, looking younger and prettier than ever, and getting 
 more fashionable every day, and Mr. Ferrars and Berengaria, 
 Countess of Montfort, retired in the summer to their beautiful 
 and beloved Princedown. 
 
 CHAPTER C. 
 
 Although the past life of Endymion had, on the whole, 
 been a happy life, and although he was destined also to a hap- 
 py future, perhaps the four years which elapsed from the time 
 he quitted office, certainly in his experience had never been 
 exceeded, and it vras difficult to imagine could be exceeded, in 
 felicity. He had a great interest, and even growing influence 
 in public life without any of its cares ; he was united to a wo- 
 man whom he had long passionately loved, and who had every 
 quality and accomplishment to make existence delightful ; he 
 was master of a fortune which secured him all those advan- 
 tages which are appreciated by men of taste and generosity. 
 He became a father, and a family name which had been origin- 
 ally borne by a courtier of the elder Stuarts was now bestowed 
 on the future lord of Princedown. 
 
 Lady Montfort herself had no thought but her husband. 
 His happiness, his enjoyment of existence, his success and 
 
464 e:^bymion, 
 
 power in life, entirely absorbed her. The anxiety which she 
 felt that in everything he should be master was touching. 
 Once looked upon as the most imperious of women, she would 
 not give a direction on any matter without his opinion and 
 sanction. One would have supposed from what might be ob- 
 seiTed under their roof, that she was some beautiful but por- 
 tionless maiden whom Endymion had raised to wealth and 
 power. 
 
 All this time, however. Lady Montfort sedulously main- 
 tained that commanding position in social politics for which 
 she was singularly fitted. Indeed, in that respect, she had no 
 rival. She received the world with the same constancy and 
 splendor, as if she were the wife of a minister. Animated by 
 Waldershare, Lady Beaumaris maintained in this respect a cer- 
 tain degree of rivalry. She was the only hope and refuge of 
 the Tories, and rich, attractive, and popular, her competition 
 could not be disregarded. But Lord Beaumaris was a little 
 freakish. Sometimes he would sail in his yacht to odd places, 
 and was at Algiers or in Egypt when, according to Tadpole, he 
 ought to have been at Piccadilly Terrace. Then he occasion- 
 ally got crusty about his hunting. lie would hunt whatever 
 were the political consequences, but whether he were in Africa 
 or Leicestersliire, Imogene must be with him. He could not 
 exist without her constant presence. There was something in 
 her gentleness, combined with her quick and ready sympathy 
 and playfulness of mind and manner, which alike pleased and 
 soothed his life. 
 
 The Whigs tottered on for a year after the rude assault of 
 Cardinal Penruddock, but they were doomed, and the Protec- 
 tionists were called upon to form an administration. As they 
 had no one in their ranks who had ever been in office except 
 their chief, who was in the House of Lords, the affair seemed 
 impossible. The attempt, however, could not be avoided. A 
 dozen men, without the slightest experience of official life, had to 
 be sworn in as privy councilors, before even they could receive 
 the seals and insignia of their intended offices. On their knees, 
 according to the constitutional custom, a dozen men, all in the 
 act of genuflection at the same moment, and headed, too, by 
 
MR. BERTIE TREMAINE'S ELEVATIOK 465 
 
 one of the most powerful peers in the country, the Lord of 
 Alnwick Castle himself, humbled themselves before a female 
 Sovereign, who looked serene and imperturbable before a spec- 
 tacle never seen before, and which, in all probability, will never 
 be seen again. 
 
 One of this band, a gentleman ^without any official experi- 
 ence whatever, was not only placed in the cabinet, but was 
 absolutely required to become the leader of the House of Com- 
 mons, which had never occurred before, except in the instance 
 of Mr. Pitt in 1782. It has been said that it was unwise in 
 the Protectionists assuming office when, on this occasion and 
 on subsequent ones, they were far from being certain of a ma- 
 jority in the House of Commons. It should, however, be 
 remembered, that unless they had dared these ventures, they 
 never could have formed a body of men competent from their 
 official experience and their practice in debate, to form a min- 
 istry. The result has rather proved that they were right. 
 Had they continued to refrain from incurring responsibility, 
 they must have broken up and merged in different connections, 
 which for a party numerically so strong as the Protectionists, 
 would have been a sorry business, and probably have led to 
 disastrous results. 
 
 Mr. Bertie Tremaine having been requested to call on the 
 Protectionist prime minister, accordingly repaired to head- 
 quarters with the list of his colleagues in his pocket. He was 
 offered for himself a post of little real importance, but which 
 secured to him the dignity of the privy council. Mr. Tre- 
 maine Bertie and several of his friends had assembled at his 
 house, awaiting with anxiety his return. He had to communi- 
 cate to them that he had been offered a privy councilor's post, 
 and to break to them that it was not proposed to provide for 
 any other member of his party. Their indignation was ex- 
 treme ; but they naturally supposed that he had rejected the 
 offer to himself with becoming scorn. Their leader, however, 
 informed them that he had not felt it his duty to be so per- 
 emptory. They should remember that the recognition of their 
 political status by such an offer to their chief was a consider- 
 able event. For his part, he had for some time been painfully 
 
iQQ ENDYMION, 
 
 aware that the influence of the House of Commons in the con- 
 stitutional scheme was fast waning, and that the plan of Sir 
 William Temple for the reorganization of the privy council, 
 and depositing in it the real authority of the State, was that to 
 which we should be obliged to have recourse. This offer to 
 him of a seat in the council *was, perhaps, the beginning of the 
 end. It was a crisis ; they must look to seats in the privy 
 council, which, under Sir William Temple's plan, would be 
 accompanied with ministerial duties and salaries. What they 
 had all, at one time, wished, had not exactly been accomplished, 
 but he had felt it his duty to his friends not to shrink from 
 responsibility. So he had accepted the minister's offer. 
 
 Mr. Bertie Tremaine was not long in the busy enjoyment 
 of his easy post. Then the country was governed for two years 
 by all its ablest men, who, by the end of that term had suc- 
 ceeded, by their coalesced genius, in reducing that country to 
 a state of desolation and despair. *'I did not think it would 
 have lasted even so long," said Lady Montfort ; ** but then I 
 was acquainted with their mutual hatreds and their charac- 
 teristic weaknesses. What is to happen now ? Somebody 
 must be found of commanding private character and position, 
 and with as little damaged a public one, as in this wreck of 
 reputations is possible. I see nobody but Sidney Wilton. 
 Everybody likes him, and he is the only man who could bring 
 people together." 
 
 And everybody seemed to be saying the same thing at the same 
 time. The name of Sidney Wilton was in everybody's mouth. 
 It was unfortunate that he had been a member of the defunct 
 ministry, but then it had always been understood that he had 
 always disapproved of all their measures. There was not the 
 slightest evidence of this, but everybody chose to believe it. 
 
 Sidney Wilton was chagrined with life and had become a 
 martyr to the gout, which that chagrin had aggravated ; but 
 lie was a great gentleman, and too chivalric to refuse a royal 
 command when the Sovereign was in distress. Sidney Wilton 
 became Premier, and the first colleague he recommended to 
 fill the most important post after his own, the Secretaryship of 
 State for Foreign Affairs, was Mr. Ferrars. 
 
A STRO^^G GOVERNMENT. 4:67 
 
 *'It ought to last ten years," said Lady Montfort. **I see 
 no danger except liis health. I never knew a man so changed. 
 At his time of life five years ought to make no difference in a 
 man. I can not believe he is the person who used to give us 
 those charming parties at Gaydeue. Whatever you may say, 
 Endymion, I feel convinced that something must have passed 
 between your sister and him. JSTeither of them ever gave me a 
 hint of such a matter, or of the possibility of its ever happen- 
 ing, but feminine instinct assures me that something took place. 
 He always had the gout, and his ancestors have had the gout 
 for a couple of centuries ; and all prime ministers have the 
 gout. I dare say you will not escape, darling, but I hope it 
 will never make you look as if you had just lost paradise, or, 
 what would be worse, become the last man." 
 
 Lady Montfort was right. The ministry was strong and it 
 was popular. There were no jealousies in it ; every member 
 was devoted to his chief, and felt that he was rightly the chief, 
 whereas, as Lady Montfort said, the Whigs never had a minis- 
 try before in which there were not at least a couple of men who 
 had been prime ministers, and as many more who thought they 
 ought to be. 
 
 There were years of war, and of vast and critical negotia- 
 tions. Ferrars was equal to the duties, for he had much expe- 
 rience, and more thought, and he was greatly aided by the 
 knowledge of affairs, and the clear and tranquil judgment of 
 the chief minister. There was only one subject on which there 
 was not between them that complete and cordial unanimity 
 which was so agreeable and satisfactory. And even in this 
 case, there was no difference of opinion, but rather of senti- 
 ment and feeling. It was when King Florestan expressed his 
 desire to join the grand alliance, and become our active mili- 
 tary ally. It was perhaps impossible, under any circumstances, 
 for the Powers to refuse such an offer, but Endymion was 
 strongly in favor of accepting it. It consolidated our interests 
 in a part of Europe where we required sympathy and support, 
 and it secured for us the aid and influence of the great liberal 
 party of the continent as distinguished from the secret societies 
 and the socialist republicans. The Count of Ferroll, also, 
 
168 ENDYMION, 
 
 whose opinion weighed much with Her Majesty's Government, 
 was decidedly in favor of the combination. The English prime 
 minister listened to their representations frigidly ; it was diffi- 
 cult to refute the arguments which were adverse to his own 
 feelings, and to resist the unanimous opinion not only of his 
 colleagues, but of our allies. But he was cold and silent, or 
 made discouraging remarks. 
 
 "Can you trust him?" he woiild say. "Remember he 
 himself has been, and still is, a member of the very secret so- 
 cieties whose baneful influence we are now told he will neu- 
 tralize or subdue. Whatever the cabinet decides, and I fear 
 that with this strong expression of opinion on the part of our 
 allies we have little option left, remember I gave you my warn- 
 ing. I know the gentleman, and I do not trust him." 
 
 After this, the prime minister had a most severe attack of 
 the gout, remained for weeks at Gaydene,' and saw no one on 
 business except Endymion and Baron Sergius. 
 
 AVhile the time is elapsing which can alone decide whether 
 the distrust of Mr. "Wilton were well founded or the reverse, 
 let us see how the world is treating the rest of our friends. 
 
 Lord Waldershare did not make such a pattern husband as 
 Endymion, but he made a much better one than the world 
 ever supposed he would. Had he married Berengaria, the 
 failure would have been great ; but he was united to a being 
 capable of deep affection and very sensitive, yet grateful for 
 kindness from a husband to a degree not easily imaginable. 
 And Waldershare had really a good heart, though a bad tem- 
 per, and he was a gentleman. Besides, he had a great admira- 
 tion and some awe of his father-in-law, and Lord Hainault, 
 with his good-natured irony, and consummate knowledge of 
 men and things, quite controlled him. With Lady Hainault 
 he was a favorite. He invented plausible theories and brilliant 
 paradoxes for her, which left her always in a state of charmed 
 wonder, and when she met him again, and adopted or refuted 
 them, for her intellectual power was considerable, he furnished 
 her with fresh dogmas and tenets, which immediately inter- 
 ested her intelligence, though she generally forgot to observe 
 that they were contrary to the views and principles of the last 
 
SUCCESS OF OLD FRIENDS. 469 
 
 visit. Between Adriana and Imogene there was a close alli- 
 ance, and Lady Beaumaris did everything in her power to de- 
 velop Lady Waldershare advantageously before her husband ; 
 and so, not forgetting that Waldershare, with his romance, and 
 imagination, and fancy, and taste, and caprice, had a consid- 
 erable element of worldliness in his character, and that he 
 liked to feel that, from living in lodgings, he had become a 
 Monte Christo, his union with Adriana may be said to be a 
 happy and successful one. 
 
 The friendship between Sir Peter Vigo and his brother 
 M. P., Mr. Eodney, never diminished, and Mr. Eodney became 
 richer every year. He experienced considerable remorse at 
 sitting in opposition to the son of his right honorable friend, 
 the late William Pitt Ferrars, and frequently consulted Sir 
 Peter on his embarrassment and difficulty. Sir Peter, who 
 never declined arranging any difficulty, told his friend to be 
 easy, and that he. Sir Peter, saw his way. It became gi-adu- 
 ally understood, that if ever the government was in difficulties, 
 Mr. Eodney's vote might be counted on. He was peculiarly 
 situated, for, in a certain sense, his friend the right honorable 
 William Pitt Ferrars had intrusted the guardianship of his 
 child to his care. But whenever the ministry was not in dan- 
 ger, the ministry must not depend upon his vote. 
 
 Trenchard had become Secretary of the Treasury in the 
 W^ilton administration, had established his reputation, and was 
 looked upon as a future minister. Jawett, without forfeiting 
 his post and promotion at Somerset House, had become the 
 editor of a new periodical magazine, called the ** Privy Coun- 
 cil." It was established and maintained iDy Mr. Bertie Tre- 
 maine, and was chiefly written by that gentleman himself. It 
 was full of Greek quotations, to show that it was not Grub 
 Street, and written in a style as like that of Sir William Tem- 
 ple, as a paper in "Rejected Addresses" might resemble the 
 classic lucubrations of the statesman-sage who, it is hoped, will 
 be always remembered by a grateful country for having intro- 
 duced into these islands the Moor Park apricot. What the 
 pages of the *^ Privy Council " meant no human being had the 
 Slightest conception except Mr. Tremaine Bertie. 
 
476 END 7 MI OK 
 
 Mr. Thomberry remained a respected member of the cab- 
 inet. It was thought his presence there secured the sympathies 
 of advanced Liberalism throughout the country ; but that was 
 a tradition rather than a fact. Statesmen in high places are 
 not always so well acquainted with the changes and gradations 
 of opinion in political parties at home as they are with those 
 abroad. We hardly mark the growth of the tree we see every 
 day. Mr. Thomberry had long ceased to be popular with his 
 former friends, and the fact that he had become a minister 
 was one of the causes of this change of feeling. That was un- 
 reasonable, but in politics unreasonable circumstances are ele- 
 ments of the problem to be solved. It was generally under- 
 stood that, on the next election, Mr. Thomberry would have 
 to look out for another seat ; his chief constituents, those who 
 are locally styled the leaders of the party, were still faithful to 
 him, for they were proud of having a cabinet minister for their 
 member, to be presented by him at court, and occasionally to 
 dine with him ; but the ** masses," who do not go to court, 
 and are never asked to dinner, required a member who would 
 represent their whims, and it was quite understood that, on 
 the very first occasion, this enlightened community had re- 
 solved to send up to Westminster — Mr. Enoch Craggs. 
 
 It is difficult to say, whether in his private life Job found 
 affairs altogether more satisfactory than in his public. His 
 wife had joined the Roman Communion. An ingrained per- 
 verseness, which prevented his son from ever willingly follow- 
 ing the advice or example of his parents, had preserved John 
 Hampden to the Anglican faith, but he had portraits of Laud 
 and Strafford over his mantelpiece, and embossed in golden 
 letters on a purple gi'ound the magical word " Thokough." 
 His library chiefly consisted of the ** Tracts for the Times," 
 and a colossal edition of the Fathers gorgeously bound. He 
 was a very clever fellow, this young Thomberry, a natural 
 orator, and was leader of the High Church party in the Oxford 
 Union. He brought home his friends occasionally to Hurst- 
 ley, and Job had the opportunity of becoming acquainted with 
 a class and school of humanity — ^with which, notwithstanding 
 his considerable experience of life, he had no previous knowl- 
 
ST. BARBE, 471 
 
 edge — ^young gentlemen, apparently half starved and dressed 
 like priests, and sometimes an enthusiastic young noble, in 
 much better physical condition, and in costume becoming a 
 cavalier, ready to raise the royal standard at Edgehill. What 
 a little annoyed Job was that his son always addressed him as 
 '* Squire," a habit even pedantically followed by his compan- 
 ions. He was, however, justly entitled to this ancient and 
 reputable honor, for Job had been persuaded to purchase 
 Hurstley, was a lord of several thousand acres, and had the 
 boar's head carried in procession at Christmas in his ancient 
 hall. It is strange, but he was rather perplexed than annoyed 
 by all these marvelous metamorphoses in his life and family. 
 His intelligence was as clear as ever, and his views on all sub- 
 jects unchanged ; but he was, like many other men, governed 
 at home by his affections. He preferred the new arrangement, 
 if his wife and family were happy and contented, to a domestic 
 system founded on his own principles, accompanied by a sullen 
 or shrewish partner of his life and rebellious offspring. 
 
 What really vexed him, among comparatively lesser mat- 
 ters, was the extraordinary passion which -in time his son im- 
 bibed for game-preserving. He did at last interfere on this 
 matter, but in vain. John Hampden announced that he did 
 not value land if he was only to look at it, and that sport was 
 the patriotic pastime of an English gentleman. "You used 
 in old days never to be satisfied with what I got out of the 
 land," said the old grandfather to Job, with a little amiable 
 malice ; " there is enough at any rate now for the hares and 
 rabbits, but I doubt for anybody else." 
 
 We must not forget our old friend St. Barbe. Whether he 
 had written himself out or had become lazy in the luxurious 
 life in which he now indulged, he rarely appealed to the liter- 
 ary public, which still admired him. He was, by way of inti- 
 mating that he was engaged in a great work, which, though 
 written in his taking prose, was to be really the epopee of social 
 life in this country. Dining out every day, and ever arriving, 
 however late, at those "small and earlies," which he once de- 
 spised ; he gave to his friends frequent intimations that he was 
 not there for pleasure, but rather following his profession ; he 
 
472 ENDYMIOK 
 
 was in his studio, observing and reflecting on all the passions 
 and manners of mankind, and gathering materials for the great 
 work which was eventually to enchant and instruct society, and 
 immortalize his name. 
 
 " The fact is, I wrote too early," he would say. '* I blush 
 when I read my own books, though compared with those of the 
 brethren, they might still be looked on as classics. They say 
 no artist can draw a camel, and I say no author ever drew a 
 gentleman. How can they, with no opportunity of ever see- 
 ing one ? And so, with a little caricature of manners, which 
 they catch second-hand, they are obliged to have recourse to 
 outrageous nonsense, as if polished life consisted only of biga- 
 mists, and that ladies of fashion were in the habit of paying 
 blackmail to returned convicts. However, I shall put an end 
 to all this. I have now got the materials, or am accumulating 
 them daily. You hint that I give myself up too much to so- 
 ciety. You are talking of things you do not understand. A 
 dinner party is a chapter. I catch the Cynthia of the minute, 
 sir, at a soiree. If I only served a grateful country, I should 
 be in the proudest position of any of its sons ; if I had been 
 bom in any country but this, I should have been decorated, 
 and perhaps made secretary of state like Addison, who did not 
 write as well as I do, though his style somewhat resembles 
 mine." 
 
 Notwithstanding these great plans, it came in time to En- 
 dymion's ears, that poor St. Barbe was in terrible straits. En- 
 dymion delicately helped him and then obtained for him a 
 pension, and not an inconsiderable one. Relieved from anx- 
 iety, St. Barbe resumed his ancient and natural vein. Ho 
 passed his days in decrying his friend and patron, and compar- 
 ing his miserable pension with the salary of a secretary of state, 
 who, so far as his experience went, was generally a second-rate 
 man. Endymion, though he knew St. Barbe was always de- 
 crying him, only smiled, and looked upon it all as the neces- 
 sary consequence of his organization, which involved a singular 
 combination of vanity and envy in the highest degree. St. 
 Barbe was not less a guest in Carlton Terrace than heretofore, 
 and was even kindly invited to Princedown to profit by tlie 
 
A PROJECTED ROYAL VISIT, 473 
 
 distant sea-breeze. Lady Montfort, whose ears some of his 
 pranks had reached, was not so tolerant as her husband. She 
 gave him one day her views of his conduct. St. Barbe was 
 always a little afraid of her, and on this occasion entirely lost 
 himself ; vented the most solemn affirmations that there was 
 not a grain of truth in these charges ; that he was the victim, 
 as he had been all his life, of slander and calumny — the sheer 
 creatures of envy, and then began to fawn upon his hostess, 
 and declared that he had ever thought there was something 
 godlike in the character of her husband. 
 
 '^ And what is there in yours, Mr. St. Barbe ? " asked Lady 
 Montfort. 
 
 The ministry had lasted several years, its foreign policy had 
 been successful ; it had triumphed in war and secured peace. 
 The military conduct of the troops of King Florestan had con- 
 tributed to these results, and the popularity of that sovereign 
 in England was for a foreigner unexampled. During this agi- 
 tated interval, Endymion and Myra had met more than once, 
 through the providential medium of those favored spots of na- 
 ture — German baths. 
 
 There had arisen a public feeling, that the ally who had 
 served us so well should be invited to visit again a country 
 wherein he had so long sojourned, and where he was so much 
 appreciated. The only evidence that the Prime Minister gave 
 that he was conscious of this feeling was an attack of gout. 
 Endymion himself, though in a difficult and rather painful 
 position in this matter, did everything to shield and protect 
 his chief, but the general sentiment became so strong, sanc- 
 tioned too, as it was understood, in the highest quarter, that it 
 could no longer be passed by unnoticed ; and, in due time, to 
 the great delight and satisfaction of the nation, an impend- 
 ing visit from our faithful ally King Florestan and his beauti- 
 ful wife. Queen Myra, was authoritatively announced. 
 
 Every preparation was made to show them honor. They 
 were the guests of our Sovereign ; but from the palace, which 
 they were to inhabit, to the humblest tenement in the meanest 
 back street, there was only one feeling of gratitude, and re- 
 gard, and admiration. The English people are the most en- 
 
474 ENDYMION. 
 
 thusiastic people in the world ; there are other populations 
 which are more excitable, but there is no nation, when it feels, 
 where the sentiment is so profound and irresistible. 
 
 The hour arrived. The season and the weather were favora- 
 ble. From the port where they landed to their arrival at the 
 metropolis, the whole country seemed poured out into the open 
 air ; triumphal arches, a way of flags and banners, and bits of 
 bunting on every hovel. The King and Queen were received 
 at the metropolitan station by Princes of the blood, and accom- 
 panied to the palace, where the great officers of state and the 
 assembled ministry were gathered together to do them honor. 
 A great strain was thrown upon Endymion throughout these 
 proceedings, as the Prime Minister, who had been suffering 
 the whole season, and rarely present in his seat in Parliament 
 was, at this moment, in his worst paroxysm. He coul(J not 
 therefore be present at the series of balls and banquets, and 
 brilliant public functions, which greeted the royal guests. 
 Their visit to the City, when they dined with the Lord Mayor, 
 and to which they diove in royal carriages through a sea of 
 population tumultuous with devotion, was the most gratifying 
 of all these splendid receptions, partly from the associations of 
 mysterious power and magnificence connected with the title 
 and character of Lord Mayor. The Duke of St. Angelo, the 
 Marquis of Vallombrosa, and the Prince of Montserrat, quite 
 lost their presence of mind. Even the Princess of Montserrat, 
 with more quarterings on her own side than any house in Eu- 
 rope, confessed that she trembled when Her Serene Highness 
 courtesied before the Lady Mayoress. Perhaps, however, the 
 most brilliant, the most fanciful, infinitely the most costly 
 entertainment that was given on this memorable occasion, was 
 the festival at Hainault. The whole route from town to the 
 forest was lined with thousands, perhaps hundreds of thou- 
 sands, of spectators ; a thousand guests were received at the 
 banquet, and twelve palaces were raised by that true magician, 
 Mr. Benjamin Edgington, in the park, for the countless vis- 
 itors in the evening. At night the forest was illuminated. 
 Everybody was glad except Lady Hainault, who sighed, and 
 said, " I have no doubt the queen would have preferred her 
 
LADY MONTFORT EXCITED. 4T5 
 
 own room, and that we should haye had a quiet dinner, as in 
 old days, in the little Venetian parlor." 
 
 When Endymion returned home at night, he found a sum- 
 mons to Gaydene ; th^ Prime Minister being, it was feared, in 
 a dangerous state. 
 
 The next day, late in the afternoon, there was a rumor that 
 the Prime Minister had resigned. Then it was authoritatively 
 contradicted, and then at night another rumor rose that the 
 minister had resigned, but that the resignation would not be 
 accepted until after the termination of the royal visit. The 
 king and queen had yet to remain a short week. 
 
 The fact is, the resignation had taken place, but it was 
 known only to those who then could not have imparted the 
 intelligence. The public often conjectures the truth, though 
 it clothes its impression or information in the vague shape of a 
 rumor. In four-and-twenty hours the great fact was authori- 
 tatively announced in all the Journals, with leading articles 
 speculating on the successor to the able and accomplished min- 
 ister of whose services the Sovereign and the country were so 
 unhappily deprived. Would his successor be found in his own 
 cabinet ? And then several names were mentioned ; Eaw- 
 chester, to Lady Montfort's disgust. Eawchester was a safe 
 man, and had had much experience, which, as Avith most safe 
 men, probably left him as wise and able as before he imbibed 
 it. Would there be altogether a change of parties ? Would 
 the Protectionists try again ? They were very strong, but al- 
 ways in a minority, like some great continental powers, who 
 have the finest army in the world, and yet get always beaten. 
 Would that band of self-admiring geniuses, who had upset 
 every cabinet with whom they were ever connected, return on 
 the shoulders of the people, as they always dreamed, though 
 they were always the persons of whom the people never seemed 
 to think ? 
 
 Lady Montfort was in a state of passive excitement. She 
 was quite pale, and she remained quite pale for hours. She 
 would see no one. She sat in Endymion's room, and never 
 spoke, while he continued writing and transacting his affairs. 
 She thought she was reading the ** Morning Post," but really 
 
476 EN BY MI ON, 
 
 could not distinguish the advertisements from the leading 
 articles. 
 
 There was a knock at the library door, and the groom of 
 the chambers brought in a note for Endymion. He glanced 
 at the handwriting of the address, and then opened it, as pale 
 as his wife. Then he read it again, and then he gave it to her. 
 She threw her eyes over it, and then her arms around his neck. 
 
 " Order my brougham at three o'clock." 
 
 CHAPTER CI. 
 
 Endymion was with his sister. 
 
 "How dear of you to come to me," she said, ^*when you 
 can not have a moment to yourself." 
 
 " Well, you know," he replied, "it is not like forming a 
 government. That is an affair. I have reason to think all my 
 colleagues will remain with me. I shall summon them for this 
 afternoon, and if we agree, affairs will go on as before. I 
 should like to get down to Gaydene to-night." 
 
 "To-night!" said the queen musingly. "We have only 
 one day left, and I wanted you to do something for me." 
 
 " It shall be done, if possible ; I need not say that." 
 
 "It is not difficult to do, if we have time — if we have to- 
 morrow morning, and early. But if you go to Gaydene you 
 will hardly return to-night, and I shall lose my chance — and 
 yet it is to me a business most precious." 
 
 "It shall be managed ; tell me then." 
 
 " I learned that Hill Street is not occupied at this moment. 
 I want to visit the old house with you, before I leave England, 
 probably for ever. I have only got the early morn to-morrow, 
 but with a veil and your brougham, I think we might depart 
 unobserved, before the crowd begins to assemble. Do you think 
 you could be here at nine o'clock ? " 
 
 So it was settled, and being hurried, he departed. 
 
 And next morning he was at the palace before nine o'clock ; 
 and the queen, veiled, entered his brougham. There were al- 
 
THE LAST EMBRACE. 477 
 
 ready some loiterers, but the brother and sister passed through 
 the gates unobserved. 
 
 They reached Hill Street. The queen visited all the prin- 
 cipal rooms, and made many remarks appropriate to many mem- 
 ories. '* But," she said, " it was not to see these rooms I came, 
 though I was glad to do so, and the corridor on the second story 
 whence I called out to you when you returned, and for ever, from 
 Eton, and told you there was bad news. What I came for was 
 to see our old nursery, where we lived so long together, and so 
 fondly ! Here it is ; here we are. All I have desired, all I have 
 dreamed, have come to pass. Darling, beloved of my soul, by 
 all our sorrows, by all our joys, in this scene of our childhood 
 and bygone days, let me give you my last embrace." 
 
 THE EJS"D, 
 
Novels and Novelists. 
 
 -*^<»-*^^^- 
 
 DISI^AELI'S NOVELS. 
 
 ENDYMION. 8vo. Paper, 75 cents. 12mo, Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 I.OTHAIK. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 8vo. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 VENETIA. 8vo. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 THE YOUNG DUKE. 8vo. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 AEKOY. 8vo. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 CONTAKINI FLiEMING. 8vo. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 VIVIAN GKEY. 8vo. Paper, 60 cents. 
 
 CONINGSBY. 8vo. Paper, 60 cents. 
 
 TANCRED ; or, The New Crusade. Svo. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 DISI^AELI'S NOVELS AND TALES. New edition. 6 vols., 
 small Svo. Half calf, extra, $20.00. 
 
 BEACONSFIELD : a Sketch of the Literary and Political Career 
 OF Benjamin Disraeli, now Earl of Beaconsfield. With Two Portraits, 
 from a Sketch by Maclise, in 1830, and from a Drawing by Sir John Gil- 
 bert, in 1870. By George M. Towle. 18mo. Paper, 25 cents. Form- 
 ing No. 22 of Appletons' " New Handy- Volume Series." 
 
 CAPTAIN MARRY AT'S NOVELS. Cheap popular edition. 12 
 vols., 12mo. Paper, 50 cents each. 
 
 MIDSHIPMAN EASY. 
 PACHA OF MANY TAL.ES. 
 THE POACHER. 
 
 PETER SIMPLE. 
 
 JACOB FAITHFUI.. 
 
 NAVAI. OFFICER. 
 
 KING'S OWN. 
 
 JAPHET in SEARCH of a FATHER 
 
 NEWTON FORSTER. 
 
 THE PHANTOM SHIP. 
 SNARLEYOW. 
 PERCIVAE KEENE. 
 
 iCAPTAIN MARRYAT'S NOVELS. New edition. 12 vols., 
 12rao. Green cloth, extra, $15.00; half calf, extra, $36.00. 
 
 jl^HODA BI^OUGHTON'S NOVELS. 
 
 i SECOND THOUGHTS. 18mo. Paper, 50 cents. 
 JOAN. Svo. Paper, 75 cents. 
 
 COMETH UP AS A FEOWER. 8vo. Paper, 60 cents. 
 NOT WISELY, BUT TOO WEEL. 8vo. Paper, 60 cents. 
 NANCY. Svo. Paper, 75 cents. 
 
 GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART ! 8vo. Paper, 75 cents. 
 RED AS A ROSE IS SHE. 8vo. Paper, 60 cents. 
 
 A SHORT LIFE OF CHAI^LES DICKENS, with Selec 
 tions from his Letters. By Charles H. Jones, author of " Macaulay : 
 his Life — his Writings." "New Handy- Volume Series." Paper, 35 cents; 
 cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 STI^^AY MOMENTS WITH THACKEI^AY : His Humor, 
 Satire, and Characters. Being Selections from his Writings, prefaced 
 with a Few Biographical Notes. By William H. Rideing. " New Handy- 
 Volume Series." Paper, 30 cents ;' cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers ; or any work sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt 
 
 of price. 
 
 Z>. APPLETON & CO., Publishei-s, 1, S, d 5 Bond Street, New York. 
 
Works of Henry Thomas Bocrle. 
 
 The Life and Writings of Henry Thomas 
 Buckle. 
 
 By Alfbed Heney Hfth. 12mo. Cloth. 
 
 " The book deals with Mr. Buckle less as a philosopher than as a man. . . . Mr. Hull 
 has done hia part well and thoronghl j.'" —Saturday Beview. 
 
 "Mr. Huth has produced a striking and distinct portrait out of his slight materials, aw" 
 he has done bis work with a Bimplicity and modesty which are highly efl'ective.^^— Pa/: 
 MaUOazetU. 
 
 " This work, we think, will revolutionize popular opinion about the philosopher."- 
 London Daily News. 
 
 " Buckle was a man whose story must excite interest and rouse sympathy."'— /S^^/zioa 
 
 n. 
 
 History of Civilization in England. 
 
 2 vols., 8vo. Cloth, $4.00 ; half calf, extra, $8.00. 
 
 "Whoever misses reading this book will miss reading what is, In various respects, t< 
 the best of our judgment and experience, the most remarkable book of the day — one, in 
 deed, that no thoughtful, inquiring mind would miss reading for a good deal. Let th< 
 reader be as adverse as he may be to the writer's philosophy, let him be as devoted to th< 
 obstructive as Mr. Buckle is to the progress party, let him be as orthodox in church creet 
 as the other is heterodox, as dogmatic as the author is pkeptical— let him, in short, fine 
 his prejudices shocked at every turn of the argument, and all his prepossessions whistlec 
 down the wind— still, there is so much in tins extraordinary volume to stimulate reflectioi 
 and excite to inquiry, and provoke to earnest investigation, perhaps (to this or that reader 
 on a track hitherto untrodden, and across the virgin soil of untilled fields, fresh woods anc 
 
 {pastures new, that we may fairly defy the most hostile spirit, the most mistrustful anc 
 east sympathetic, to read it through without being glad of having done so. or, having 
 begun it, or even glanced at almost any one of its pages, to pass away unread."— Zo/irf(» 
 Times. 
 
 "We have read Mr. Buckle's volumes with the deepest interest. We owe him a pro 
 found debt of gratitude. Ilis influence on the thought of the present age can not but b« 
 enormous, and if he gives us no more than we already have m the two volumes of th< 
 magnxis opus, he will still be classed among the fathers and founders of the Science of Ills 
 tory.''''— New York Times. 
 
 " Singularly acute, possessed of rare analvtical power, Imaginative but not fanciful 
 unwearied in research, and gifted with wonderful talent in arranging and molding hi 
 material, the author is as fascinating as he is learned. His erudition is immense— so im 
 mense as not to be cumbersome. It is the result of a long and steady growth— a part o 
 himself."— ifofiion Journal. 
 
 _ m. 
 
 Essays. 
 
 With a Biography of the Author. Portrait. 12mo. Clo£l/$1.00 
 half calf, extra, $2.50. W ; 
 
 — Uo 
 
 D. APPLETON <t CO., Publishers, 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street, New York. 
 
letukn 
 
 
 DESK. 
 
 rRoM^Hi^" 
 
 
 
 ReoC'V 
 
 J-S^'iU-aresubieccto 
 
 ^f,Vetit.T;L'^« 
 
 
YB 74173