ed to do. Lord
Drummond said that the step was one to be much lamented. "Very much,
indeed," said the Duke of St. Bungay. His words themselves were false
and hypocritical, but the tone of his voice took away all the deceit.
"I am afraid," said the Prime Minister, "from what Sir Orlando has
said to me privately, that we cannot hope that he will change his
mind." "That I certainly cannot do," said Sir Orlando, with all the
dignified courage of a modern martyr.

On the next morning the papers were full of the political fact, and
were blessed with a subject on which they could excercise their
prophetical sagacity. The remarks made were generally favourable to
the Government. Three or four of the morning papers were of opinion
that though Sir Orlando had been a strong man, and a good public
servant, the Ministry might exist without him. But the "People's
Banner" was able to expound to the people at large that the only
grain of salt by which the Ministry had been kept from putrefaction
had been now cast out, and that mortification, death, and corruption,
must ensue. It was one of Mr. Quintus Slide's greatest efforts.

CHAPTER XXXIX

"Get Round Him"

Ferdinand Lopez maintained his anger against his wife for more than a
week after the scene at Richmond, feeding it with reflections on what
he called her disobedience. Nor was it a make-believe anger. She had
declared her intention to act in opposition to his expressed orders.
He felt that his present condition was prejudicial to his interests,
and that he must take his wife back into favour, in order that he
might make progress with her father, but could hardly bring himself
to swallow his wrath. He thought that it was her duty to obey him
in everything,--and that disobedience on a matter touching her old
lover was an abominable offence, to be visited with severest marital
displeasure, and with a succession of scowls that should make her
miserable for a month at least. Nor on her behalf would he have
hesitated, though the misery might have continued for three months.
But then the old man was the main hope of his life, and must be made
its mainstay. Brilliant prospects were before him. He had used to
think that Mr. Wharton was a hale man, with some terribly vexatious
term of life before him. But now, now that he was seen more closely,
he appeared to be very old. He would sit half bent in the arm-chair
in Stone Buildings, and look as though he were near a hundred. And