ss at the Theatre Francais in the years 1811-15, by the name of
Stella."

Sidonia lightened the blow for Coningsby as far as philosophy could be
of use.

"I ask you," he said, "which would you have rather lost--your
grandfather's inheritance or your right leg?"

"Most certainly my inheritance."

"Or your left arm?"

"Still the inheritance."

"Would you have given up a year of your life for that fortune trebled?"

"Even at twenty-three I would have refused the terms."

"Come, then, Coningsby, the calamity cannot be very great. You have
health, youth, good looks, great abilities, considerable knowledge, a
fine courage, and no contemptible experience. You can live on L300 a
year. Read for the Bar."

"I have resolved," said Coningsby. "I will try for the Great Seal!"

Next morning came a note from Flora, begging Mr. Coningsby to call upon
her. It was an interview he would rather have avoided. But Flora had not
injured him, and she was, after all, his kin. She was alone when
Coningsby entered the room.

"I have robbed you of your inheritance."

"It was not mine by any right, legal or moral. The fortune is yours,
dear Flora, by every right; and there is no one who wishes more
fervently that it may contribute to your happiness than I do."

"It is killing me," said Flora mournfully. "I must tell you what I feel.
This fortune is yours. I never thought to be so happy as I shall be if
you will generously accept it."

"You are, as I have ever thought you, the kindest and most
tender-hearted of beings," said Coningsby, much moved; "but the custom
of the world does not permit such acts to either of us as you
contemplate. Have confidence in yourself. You will be happy."

"When I die, these riches will be yours; that, at all events, you cannot
prevent," were Flora's last generous words.

_VII.--On Life's Threshold_

Coningsby established himself in the Temple to read law; and Lord Henry
Sydney, Oswald Millbank, and other old Eton friends rallied round their
early leader.

"I feel quite convinced that Coningsby will become Lord Chancellor,"
Henry Sydney said gravely, after leaving the Temple.

The General Election of 1841, which Lord Monmouth had expected a year
before, found Coningsby a solitary student in his lonely chambers in the
Temple. All his friends and early companions were candidates, and with
sanguine prospects. They sent their addresses to Coningsby, who, deeply
interested, traced in them the inf