ning here."

"Oh yes; pray let him come."

"You would not mind that?"

"I would dine early and be out of the way. I should be so glad if you
would have somebody sometimes. I shouldn't think then that I was such
a--such a restraint to you."

But this was not what Mr. Wharton desired. "I shouldn't like that, my
dear. Of course he would know that you were in the house."

"Upon my word, I think you might meet an old friend like that," said
Everett.

She looked at her brother, and then at her father, and burst into
tears. "Of course you shall not be pressed if it would be irksome to
you," said her father.

"It is the first plunge that hurts," said Everett. "If you could once
bring yourself to do it, you would find afterwards that you were more
comfortable."

"Papa," she said slowly, "I know what it means. His goodness I shall
always remember. You may tell him I say so. But I cannot meet him
yet." Then they pressed her no further. Of course she had understood.
Her father could not even ask her to say a word which might give
comfort to Arthur as to some long distant time.

He went down to the House of Commons the next day, and saw his young
friend there. Then they walked up and down Westminster Hall for
nearly an hour, talking over the matter with the most absolute
freedom. "It cannot be for the benefit of any one," said Arthur
Fletcher, "that she should immolate herself like an Indian
widow,--and for the sake of such a man as that! Of course I have no
right to dictate to you,--hardly, perhaps, to give an opinion."

"Yes, yes, yes."

"It does seem to me, then, that you ought to force her out of that
kind of thing. Why should she not go down to Herefordshire?"

"In time, Arthur,--in time."

"But people's lives are running away."

"My dear fellow, if you were to see her you would know how vain it
would be to try to hurry her. There must be time."

CHAPTER LXVI

The End of the Session

The Duke of St. Bungay had been very much disappointed. He had
contradicted with a repetition of noes the assertion of the Duchess
that he had been the Warwick who had placed the Prime Minister's
crown on the head of the Duke of Omnium, but no doubt he felt in his
heart that he had done so much towards it that his advice respecting
the vacant Garter, when given with so much weight, should have been
followed. He was an old man, and had known the secrets of Cabinet
Councils when his younger friend was a little boy. He