ion, or, failing that, conjecture, and she
eagerly questioned the throng of men who came and went, paying their
respects to the Governor's wife, and lingering to say a few words on the
situation. Sir John Oakapple fixed himself permanently by the steps of
the carriage, and played the part of a good-humoured though cynical
chorus to the shifting drama.

Presently, a little way off, Mr. Coxon made his appearance, showing in
his manner a pleased consciousness of his importance. They all wanted a
word with him, and laid traps to catch a hint of his future action; he
had explained his motives and refused to explain his intentions
half-a-dozen times at least. If this flattering prominence could last,
he must think twice before he accepted even the most dignified of
shelves; but his cool head told him it would not, and he was glad to
remember the provision he had made for a rainy day. Meanwhile he basked
in the sun of notoriety, and played his _role_ of the man of principle.

"Ah," exclaimed Eleanor, "here comes the hero of the hour, the maker and
unmaker of Ministries."

"As the weather-cock makes and unmakes the wind," said Sir John, with a
smile.

"What? Mr. Coxon?" said Lady Eynesford, and, pleased to have an
opportunity of renewing her politeness without revoking her edict, she
made the late Minister a very gracious bow.

Coxon's face lit up as he returned the salutation. Had his reward come
already? He had been right then; it was not towards him as himself, but
towards the Medlandite that Lady Eynesford had displayed her arrogance
and scorn. Smothering his recurrent misgivings, and ignoring the
weakness of his theory, he laid the balm to his sore and obliterated all
traces of wounded dignity from his response to Lady Eynesford's advance.

"My husband tells me," she said, "that I must leave my opinion of your
exploits unspoken, Mr. Coxon. Why do you laugh, Sir John?"

"At a wife's obedience, Lady Eynesford."

"Then," said Coxon, "I shall indulge myself by imagining that I have
your approbation."

"And what is going to happen?" asked Eleanor, for about the twentieth
time that day.

Coxon smiled and shook his head.

"They all do that," observed Sir John. "Come, Coxon, admit you don't
know."

"We'd better suppose that it's as the Chief Justice says," answered
Coxon, whose smile still hinted wilful reticence.

"But think how uninteresting it makes you!" protested Eleanor.

"Oh, I don't agree," said Lady Eyne