d in the newspapers that he was ill, and stated in
private that he could not bear to show himself since his wife had
left him. At last, however, he came to London, and Phineas saw him in
the House. Then, when the first meeting of the Cabinet was summoned
after his return, it became known that he also had resigned his
office. There was nothing said about his resignation in the House. He
had resigned on the score of ill-health, and that very worthy peer,
Lord Mount Thistle, formerly Sir Marmaduke Morecombe, came back to
the Duchy of Lancaster in his place. A Prime Minister sometimes finds
great relief in the possession of a serviceable stick who can be made
to go in and out as occasion may require; only it generally happens
that the stick will expect some reward when he is made to go out.
Lord Mount Thistle immediately saw his way to a viscount's coronet,
when he was once more summoned to the august councils of the
Ministers.

A few days after this had been arranged, in the interval between
Lord Brentford's invitation and Lord Brentford's dinner, Phineas
encountered Mr. Kennedy so closely in one of the passages of the
House that it was impossible that they should not speak to each
other, unless they were to avoid each other as people do who have
palpably quarrelled. Phineas saw that Mr. Kennedy was hesitating, and
therefore took the bull by the horns. He greeted his former friend
in a friendly fashion, shaking him by the hand, and then prepared
to pass on. But Mr. Kennedy, though he had hesitated at first, now
detained his brother member. "Finn," he said, "if you are not engaged
I should like to speak to you for a moment." Phineas was not engaged,
and allowed himself to be led out arm-in-arm by the late Chancellor
of the Duchy into Westminster Hall. "Of course you know what a
terrible thing has happened to me," said Mr. Kennedy.

"Yes;--I have heard of it," said Phineas.

"Everybody has heard of it. That is one of the terrible cruelties of
such a blow."

"All those things are very bad of course. I was very much
grieved,--because you have both been intimate friends of mine."

"Yes,--yes; we were. Do you ever see her now?"

"Not since last July,--at the Duke's party, you know."

"Ah, yes; the morning of that day was the last on which I spoke to
her. It was then she left me."

"I am going to dine with Lord Brentford to-morrow, and I dare say she
will be there."

"Yes;--she is in town. I saw her yesterday in her f