his was in the days when Mr. Gladstone was Prime
Minister, and when Irish Radicals looked to him as the one man who
could and would give them Home Rule.

In the House of Commons Lord Mallow was not ashamed to repeat the
arguments he had used in the Round Room. If his language was less
vehement at Westminster than it had been in Dublin, his opinions were
no less thorough. He had his party here, as well as on the other side
of the Irish Channel; and his party applauded him. Here was a statesman
and a landowner willing to give an ell, where Mr. Gladstone's Land Act
gave only an inch. Hibernian newspapers sung his praises in glowing
words, comparing him to Burke, Curran, and O'Connell. He had for some
time been a small lion at evening parties; he now began to be lionised
at serious dinners. He was thought much of in Carlton Gardens, and his
name figured at official banquets in Downing Street. The Duchess of
Dovedale considered it a nice trait in his character that, although he
was so much in request, and worked so hard in the House, he never
missed one of her Thursday evenings. Even when there was an important
debate on he would tear up Birdcage Walk in a hansom, and spend an hour
in the Duchess's amber drawing-rooms, enlightening Lady Mabel as to the
latest aspect of the Policy of Conciliation, or standing by the piano
while she played Chopin.

Lord Mallow had never forgotten his delight at finding a young lady
thoroughly acquainted with the history of his native land, thoroughly
interested in Erin's struggles and Erin's hopes; a young lady who knew
all about the Protestants of Ulster, and what was meant by Fixity of
Tenure. He came to Lady Mabel naturally in his triumphs, and he came to
her in his disappointments. She was pleased and flattered by his faith
in her wisdom, and was always ready to lend a gracious ear. She, whose
soul was full of ambition, was deeply interested in the career of an
ambitious young man--a man who had every excuse for being shallow and
idle, and yet was neither.

"If Roderick were only like him there would be nothing wanting in my
life," she thought regretfully. "I should have felt much a pride in a
husband's fame, I should have worked so gladly to assist him in his
career. The driest blue-books would not have been too weary for me--the
dullest drudgery of parliamentary detail would have been pleasant work,
if it could have helped him in his progress to political distinctions."

One evening,