e
amount of fire as the announcements reached him of the successes
and of the failures. The English returns came first,--and then
the Scotch, which were quite as interesting to Mr. Kennedy as the
English. His own seat was quite safe,--was not contested; but some
neighbouring seats were sources of great solicitude. Then, when this
was over, there were the tidings from Ireland to be received; and
respecting one special borough in Ireland, Lady Laura evinced more
solicitude than her husband approved. There was much danger for the
domestic bliss of the house of Loughlinter, when things came to such
a pass, and such words were spoken, as the election at Loughshane
produced.

"He is in," said Lady Laura, opening a telegram.

"Who is in?" said Mr. Kennedy, with that frown on his brow to which
his wife was now well accustomed. Though he asked the question, he
knew very well who was the hero to whom the telegram referred.

"Our friend Phineas Finn," said Lady Laura, speaking still with an
excited voice,--with a voice that was intended to display excitement.
If there was to be a battle on this matter, there should be a battle.
She would display all her anxiety for her young friend, and fling
it in her husband's face if he chose to take it as an injury.
What,--should she endure reproach from her husband because she
regarded the interests of the man who had saved his life, of the man
respecting whom she had suffered so many heart-struggles, and as to
whom she had at last come to the conclusion that he should ever be
regarded as a second brother, loved equally with the elder brother?
She had done her duty by her husband,--so at least she had assured
herself;--and should he dare to reproach her on this subject, she
would be ready for the battle. And now the battle came. "I am glad
of this," she said, with all the eagerness she could throw into her
voice. "I am, indeed,--and so ought you to be." The husband's brow
grew blacker and blacker, but still he said nothing. He had long
been too proud to be jealous, and was now too proud to express his
jealousy,--if only he could keep the expression back. But his wife
would not leave the subject. "I am so thankful for this," she said,
pressing the telegram between her hands. "I was so afraid he would
fail!"

"You over-do your anxiety on such a subject," at last he said,
speaking very slowly.

"What do you mean, Robert? How can I be over-anxious? If it concerned
any other dear friend th