membered that Mr. Bonteen had
hardly spoken to him since his return to London, though there had not
in fact been any quarrel between them. In this condition of mind he
longed to speak openly to Barrington Erle, but he was restrained by
a feeling of pride, and a still existing idea that no candidate for
office, let his claim be what it might, should ask for a place. On
that Sunday evening he saw Bonteen at the club. Men were going in and
out with that feverish excitement which always prevails on the eve of
a great parliamentary change. A large majority against the Government
was considered to be certain; but there was an idea abroad that Mr.
Daubeny had some scheme in his head by which to confute the immediate
purport of his enemies. There was nothing to which the audacity
of the man was not equal. Some said that he would dissolve the
House,--which had hardly as yet been six months sitting. Others
were of opinion that he would simply resolve not to vacate his
place,--thus defying the majority of the House and all the
ministerial traditions of the country. Words had fallen from him
which made some men certain that such was his intention. That it
should succeed ultimately was impossible. The whole country would
rise against him. Supplies would be refused. In every detail of
Government he would be impeded. But then,--such was the temper of
the man,--it was thought that all these horrors would not deter him.
There would be a blaze and a confusion, in which timid men would
doubt whether the constitution would be burned to tinder or only
illuminated; but that blaze and that confusion would be dear to
Mr. Daubeny if he could stand as the centre figure,--the great
pyrotechnist who did it all, red from head to foot with the glare of
the squibs with which his own hands were filling all the spaces. The
anticipation that some such display might take place made men busy
and eager; so that on that Sunday evening they roamed about from
one place of meeting to another, instead of sitting at home with
their wives and daughters. There was at this time existing a small
club,--so called though unlike other clubs,--which had entitled
itself the Universe. The name was supposed to be a joke, as it was
limited to ninety-nine members. It was domiciled in one simple and
somewhat mean apartment. It was kept open only one hour before and
one hour after midnight, and that only on two nights of the week,
and that only when Parliament was sitting. Its