modern
turncoat. For Sir Henry had now deserted Peel.

"Almost, I should hope, by that time," said Bertram. "He will have a
sort of a niche in history, no doubt; as has Mr. Perceval, who did so
much to assist us in the war; and Lord Castlereagh, who carried the
Union. They also were heaven-sent ministers, whom Acheron has not as
yet altogether swallowed up."

"And Boanerges, you think, will escape Libitina?"

"If the spirit of the age will allow immortality to any man of these
days, I think he will. But I doubt whether public opinion, as now
existing, will admit of hero-worship."

"Public opinion is the best safeguard for a great man's great name,"
said Mr. Stistick, with intense reliance on the civilization of his
own era.

"Quite true, sir; quite true," said the baron,--"for the space of
twenty-four hours."

Then followed a calm, and then coffee. After that, the
solicitor-general, looking at his watch, marched off impetuous to the
House. "Judge," he said, "I know you will excuse me; for you, too,
have been a slave in your time: but you will go up to Lady Harcourt;
Bertram, you will not be forgiven if you do not go upstairs."

Bertram did go upstairs, that he might not appear to be unmanly, as
he said to himself, in slinking out of the house. He did go upstairs,
for one quarter of an hour.

But the baron did not. For him, it may be presumed, his club had
charms. Mr. Stistick, however, did do so; he had to hand Mrs.
Stistick down from that elysium which she had so exquisitely graced.
He did hand her down; and then for five minutes George Bertram found
himself once more alone with Caroline Waddington.

"Good-night, Lady Harcourt," he said, again essaying to take her
hand. This and his other customary greeting was all that he had yet
spoken to her.

"Good-night, Mr. Bertram." At last her voice faltered, at last her
eye fell to the ground, at last her hand trembled. Had she stood firm
through this trial all might have been well; but though she could
bear herself right manfully before stranger eyes, she could not alone
support his gaze; one touch of tenderness, one sign of weakness was
enough--and that touch was there, that sign she gave.

"We are cousins still, are we not?" said he.

"Yes, we are cousins--I suppose so."

"And as cousins we need not hate each other?"

"Hate each other!" and she shuddered as she spoke; "oh, no, I hope
there is no hatred!"

He stood there silent for a moment, looking, not