ked that because it was wicked."

The Duchess was wrong in saying that the Duke of St. Bungay had cut
them. The old man still remembered the kiss and still remembered
the pledge. But he had found it very difficult to maintain his old
relations with his friend. It was his opinion that the Coalition had
done all that was wanted from it, and that now had come the time
when they might retire gracefully. It is, no doubt, hard for a Prime
Minister to find an excuse for going. But if the Duke of Omnium would
have been content to acknowledge that he was not the man to alter
the County Suffrage, an excuse might have been found that would have
been injurious to no one. Mr. Monk and Mr. Gresham might have joined,
and the present Prime Minister might have resigned, explaining that
he had done all that he had been appointed to accomplish. He had,
however, yielded at once to Mr. Monk, and now it was to be feared
that the House of Commons would not accept the Bill from his hands.
In such a state of things,--especially after that disagreement about
Lord Earlybird,--it was difficult for the old Duke to tender his
advice. He was at every Cabinet Council; he always came when his
presence was required; he was invariably good-humoured;--but it
seemed to him that his work was done. He could hardly volunteer to
tell his chief and his colleague that he would certainly be beaten in
the House of Commons, and that therefore there was little more now
to be done than to arrange the circumstances of their retirement.
Nevertheless, as the period for the second reading of the Bill came
on, he resolved that he would discuss the matter with his friend. He
owed it to himself to do so, and he also owed it to the man whom he
had certainly placed in his present position. On himself politics had
imposed a burden very much lighter than that which they had inflicted
on his more energetic and much less practical colleague. Through his
long life he had either been in office, or in such a position that
men were sure that he would soon return to it. He had taken it, when
it had come, willingly, and had always left it without a regret. As
a man cuts in and out at a whist table, and enjoys both the game
and the rest from the game, so had the Duke of St. Bungay been well
pleased in either position. He was patriotic, but his patriotism did
not disturb his digestion. He had been ambitious,--but moderately
ambitious, and his ambition had been gratified. It never occurre