d out poor old Mildmay among them, because he's not fast
enough for them. Don't tell me."

"My anxiety, of course, is for my boy's prospects. He seems to have
done so well in Parliament."

"Why don't he stand for Marylebone or Finsbury?"

"The money, you know, my lord!"

"I shan't interfere here, doctor. If he comes, and the people then
choose to return him, I shall say nothing. They may do just as they
please. They tell me Lambert St. George, of Mockrath, is going to
stand. If he does, it's the d---- piece of impudence I ever heard
of. He's a tenant of my own, though he has a lease for ever; and
his father never owned an acre of land in the county till his uncle
died." Then the doctor knew that, with a little management, the
lord's interest might be secured for his son.

Phineas came over and stood for the borough against Mr. Lambert
St. George, and the contest was sharp enough. The gentry of the
neighbourhood could not understand why such a man as Lord Tulla
should admit a liberal candidate to succeed his brother. No one
canvassed for the young Under-Secretary with more persistent zeal
than did his father, who, when Phineas first spoke of going into
Parliament, had produced so many good arguments against that perilous
step. Lord Tulla's agent stood aloof,--desolate with grief at the
death of the late member. At such a moment of family affliction, Lord
Tulla, he declared, could not think of such a matter as the borough.
But it was known that Lord Tulla was dreadfully jealous of Mr.
Lambert St. George, whose property in that part of the county was now
nearly equal to his own, and who saw much more company at Mockrath
than was ever entertained at Castlemorris. A word from Lord
Tulla,--so said the Conservatives of the county,--would have put
Mr. St. George into the seat; but that word was not spoken, and
the Conservatives of the neighbourhood swore that Lord Tulla was a
renegade. The contest was very sharp, but our hero was returned by a
majority of seventeen votes.

Again successful! As he thought of it he remembered stories of great
generals who were said to have chained Fortune to the wheels of their
chariots, but it seemed to him that the goddess had never served
any general with such staunch obedience as she had displayed in his
cause. Had not everything gone well with him;--so well, as almost to
justify him in expecting that even yet Violet Effingham would become
his wife? Dear, dearest Violet! If he could o