ng
wet at the thought, as she unconsciously moved to her husband's side.
"He would take me with him."

Miss Carlyle made a pause, and looked at them alternately.

"Is that decided?" she asked.

"Of course it is," laughed Mr. Carlyle, willing to joke the subject and
his sister into good-humor. "Would you wish to separate man and wife,
Cornelia?"

She made no reply. She rapidly tied her bonnet-strings, the ribbons
trembling ominously in her fingers.

"You are not going, Cornelia? You must stay to dinner, now that you are
here--it is ready--and we will talk this further over afterward."

"This has been dinner enough for me for one day," spoke she, putting on
her gloves. "That I should have lived to see my father's son throw up
his business, and change himself into a lazy, stuck-up parliament man!"

"Do stay and dine with us, Cornelia; I think I can subdue your
prejudices, if you will let me talk to you."

"If you wanted to talk to me about it, why did you not come in when you
left the office?" cried Miss Corny, in a greater amount of wrath than
she had shown yet. And there's no doubt that, in his not having done so,
lay one of the sore points.

"I did not think of it," said Mr. Carlyle. "I should have come in and
told you of it to-morrow morning."

"I dare say you would," she ironically answered. "Good evening to you
both."

And, in spite of their persuasions, she quitted the house and went
stalking down the avenue.

Two or three days more, and the address of Mr. Carlyle to the
inhabitants of West Lynne appeared in the local papers, while the walls
and posts convenient were embellished with various colored placards,
"Vote for Carlyle." "Carlyle forever!"

Wonders never cease. Surprises are the lot of man; but perhaps a greater
surprise had never been experienced by those who knew what was what,
than when it went forth to the world that Sir Francis Levison had
converted himself from--from what he was--into a red-hot politician.

Had he been offered the post of prime minister? Or did his conscience
smite him, as was the case with a certain gallant captain renowned
in song? Neither the one nor the other. The simple fact was, that Sir
Francis Levison was in a state of pecuniary embarrassment, and required
something to prop him up--some snug sinecure--plenty to get and nothing
to do.

Patch himself up he must. But how? He had tried the tables, but luck was
against him; he made a desperate venture upon the tu