icipating his misgivings. Phineas, though
disinclined to make any inquiries of a friend which might seem to
refer to his own condition, felt no such reluctance in regard to
one who certainly could not suspect him of asking a favour. He was
presumed to be on terms of intimacy with the man, and he took his
seat beside him, asking some question as to the debate. Now Mr.
Bonteen had more than once expressed an opinion among his friends
that Phineas Finn would throw his party over, and vote with the
Government. The Ratlers and Erles and Fitzgibbons all knew that
Phineas was safe, but Mr. Bonteen was still in doubt. It suited him
to affect something more than doubt on the present occasion. "I
wonder that you should ask me," said Mr. Bonteen.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I presume that you, as usual, will vote against us."

"I never voted against my party but once," said Phineas, "and then I
did it with the approbation of every man in it for whose good opinion
I cared a straw." There was insult in his tone as he said this, and
something near akin to insult in his words.

"You must do it again now, or break every promise that you made at
Tankerville."

"Do you know what promise I made at Tankerville? I shall break no
promise."

"You must allow me to say, Mr. Finn, that the kind of independence
which is practised by you and Mr. Monk, grand as it may be on the
part of men who avowedly abstain from office, is a little dangerous
when it is now and again adopted by men who have taken place. I like
to be sure that the men who are in the same boat with me won't take
it into their heads that their duty requires them to scuttle the
ship." Having so spoken, Mr. Bonteen, with nearly all the grace of a
full-fledged Cabinet Minister, rose from his seat on the corner of
the sofa and joined a small congregation.

Phineas felt that his ears were tingling and that his face was red.
He looked round to ascertain from the countenances of others whether
they had heard what had been said. Nobody had been close to them, and
he thought that the conversation had been unnoticed. He knew now that
he had been imprudent in addressing himself to Mr. Bonteen, though
the question that he had first asked had been quite commonplace. As
it was, the man, he thought, had been determined to affront him,
and had made a charge against him which he could not allow to pass
unnoticed. And then there was all the additional bitterness in it
which arose from th