ort out of his own element in London. He
would have liked to have shot grouse at Loughlinter, or pheasants at
Saulsby, or to have hunted down at Willingford,--or better still, to
have made love to Violet Effingham wherever Violet Effingham might
have placed herself. But all this was closed to him now; and there
would be nothing for him but to remain at Killaloe, or to return
to his work in Downing Street, from August to February. Mr. Monk,
indeed, was going with him for a few weeks; but even this association
did not make up for that sort of society which he would have
preferred.

The session went on very quietly. The question of the Irish Reform
Bill was postponed till the next year, which was a great thing
gained. He carried his bill about the Canada Railway, with sundry
other small bills appertaining to it, through the House in a manner
which redounded infinitely to his credit. There was just enough
of opposition to give a zest to the work, and to make the affair
conspicuous among the affairs of the year. As his chief was in the
other house, the work fell altogether into his hands, so that he came
to be conspicuous among Under-Secretaries. It was only when he said
a word to any leaders of his party about other matters,--about Irish
Tenant-right, for instance, which was beginning to loom very large,
that he found himself to be snubbed. But there was no room for action
this year in reference to Irish Tenant-right, and therefore any deep
consideration of that discomfort might be legitimately postponed. If
he did by chance open his mouth on the subject to Mr. Monk, even Mr.
Monk discouraged him.

In the early days of July, when the weather was very hot, and people
were beginning to complain of the Thames, and members were becoming
thirsty after grouse, and the remaining days of parliamentary work
were being counted up, there came to him news,--news that was soon
known throughout the fashionable world,--that the Duke of Omnium was
going to give a garden party at a certain villa residence on the
banks of the Thames above Richmond. It was to be such a garden party
as had never been seen before. And it would be the more remarkable
because the Duke had never been known to do such a thing. The villa
was called The Horns, and had, indeed, been given by the Duke to
Lady Glencora on her marriage; but the party was to be the Duke's
party, and The Horns, with all its gardens, conservatories, lawns,
shrubberies, paddocks, boat-hou