faltering. Having crossed
the Alps, you must not find a Capua. I speak to you as I have not spoken
to you of late, because it was not necessary. But here is an opportunity
which must not be lost. I feel half inspired, as when we parted in
our misery at Hurstley, and I bade you, poor and obscure, go forth and
conquer the world."

Late on the night of the day, their last day at Paris, on which
this conversation took place, Endymion received a note in well-known
handwriting, and it ran thus:

"If it be any satisfaction to you to know that you made me very unhappy
by not dining here to-day, you may be gratified. I am very unhappy.
I know that I was unkind this morning, and rude, but as my anger was
occasioned by your leaving me, my conduct might annoy but surely could
not mortify you. I shall see you to-morrow, however early you may
depart, as I cannot let your dear sister leave Paris without my
embracing her.

"Your faithful friend,

"Berengaria."

CHAPTER LXXVI

In old days, it was the habit to think and say that the House of Commons
was an essentially "queer place," which no one could understand until
he was a member of it. It may, perhaps, be doubted whether that somewhat
mysterious quality still altogether attaches to that assembly. "Our own
Reporter," has invaded it in all its purlieus. No longer content with
giving an account of the speeches of its members, he is not satisfied
unless he describes their persons, their dress, and their characteristic
mannerisms. He tells us how they dine, even the wines and dishes
which they favour, and follows them into the very mysteries of their
smoking-room. And yet there is perhaps a certain fine sense of the
feelings, and opinions, and humours of this assembly, which cannot be
acquired by hasty notions and necessarily superficial remarks, but
must be the result of long and patient observation, and of that quick
sympathy with human sentiment, in all its classes, which is involved in
the possession of that inestimable quality styled tact.

When Endymion Ferrars first took his seat in the House of Commons, it
still fully possessed its character of enigmatic tradition. It had been
thought that this, in a great degree, would have been dissipated by the
Reform Act of 1832, which suddenly introduced into the hallowed precinct
a number of individuals whose education, manners, modes of thought, were
different from those of the previous inhabitants, and in some instances,