he becomes troublesome. I have found
that out before to-day."

With Lady Laura Kennedy, Phineas did find some sympathy;--but then
she would have sympathised with him on any subject under the sun. If
he would only come to her and sit with her she would fool him to the
top of his bent. He had resolved that he would go to Portman Square
as little as possible, and had been confirmed in that resolution
by the scandal which had now spread everywhere about the town in
reference to himself and herself. But still he went. He never left
her till some promise of returning at some stated time had been
extracted from him. He had even told her of his own scruples and of
her danger,--and they had discussed together that last thunderbolt
which had fallen from the Jove of _The People's Banner_. But she had
laughed his caution to scorn. Did she not know herself and her own
innocence? Was she not living in her father's house, and with her
father? Should she quail beneath the stings and venom of such a
reptile as Quintus Slide? "Oh, Phineas," she said, "let us be braver
than that." He would much prefer to have stayed away,--but still he
went to her. He was conscious of her dangerous love for him. He knew
well that it was not returned. He was aware that it would be best for
both that he should be apart. But yet he could not bring himself to
wound her by his absence. "I do not see why you should feel it so
much," she said, speaking of the trial at Durham.

"We were both on our trial,--he and I."

"Everybody knows that he bribed and that you did not."

"Yes;--and everybody despises me and pats him on the back. I am sick
of the whole thing. There is no honesty in the life we lead."

"You got your seat at any rate."

"I wish with all my heart that I had never seen the dirty wretched
place," said he.

"Oh, Phineas, do not say that."

"But I do say it. Of what use is the seat to me? If I could only feel
that any one knew--"

"Knew what, Phineas?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I understand. I know that you have meant to be honest, while this
man has always meant to be dishonest. I know that you have intended
to serve your country, and have wished to work for it. But you cannot
expect that it should all be roses."

"Roses! The nosegays which are worn down at Westminster are made of
garlick and dandelions!"

CHAPTER XLV

Some Passages in the Life of Mr. Emilius

The writer of this chronicle is not allowed to imagine that any