After that there was some sparring of a very bitter kind between Sir Timothy and Phineas Finn, till at last it seemed that the debate was to degenerate into a war of man against man. Phineas, and Erle, and Laurence Fitzgibbon allowed themselves to be lashed into anger, and, as far as words went, had the best of it. But of what use could it be? Every man there had come into the House prepared to vote for or against the Duke of Omnium—or resolved, like Mr. Lupton, not to vote at all; and it was hardly on the cards that a single vote should be turned this way or that by any violence of speaking. “Let it pass,” said Mr. Monk in a whisper to Phineas. “The fire is not worth the fuel.”
“I know the Duke’s faults,” said Phineas; “but these men know nothing of his virtues, and when I hear them abuse him I cannot stand it.”
Early in the night—before twelve o’clock—the House divided, and even at the moment of the division no one quite knew how it would go. There would be many who would of course vote against the amendment as being simply desirous of recording their opinion in favour of the Bill generally. And there were some who thought that Sir Orlando and his followers had been too forward, and too confident of their own standing in the House, in trying so violent a mode of opposition. It would have been better, these men thought, to have insured success by a gradual and persistent opposition to the Bill itself. But they hardly knew how thoroughly men may be alienated by silence and a cold demeanour. Sir Orlando on the division was beaten, but was beaten only by nine. “He can’t go on with his Bill,” said Rattler in one of the lobbies of the House. “I defy him. The House wouldn’t stand it, you know.” “No minister,” said Roby, “could carry a measure like that with a majority of nine on a vote of confidence!” The House was of course adjourned, and Mr. Monk went at once to Carlton Terrace.
“I wish it had only been three or four,” said the Duke, laughing.
“Why so?”
“Because there would have been less doubt.”
“Is there any at present?”
“Less possibility for doubt, I will say. You would not wish to make the attempt with such a majority?”
“I could not do it, Duke!”
“I quite agree with you. But there will be those who will say that the attempt might be made—who will accuse us of being fainthearted because we do not make it.”
“They will be men who understand nothing of the temper of the House.”
“Very likely. But still, I wish the majority had only been two or three. There is little more to be said, I suppose.”
“Very little, your Grace.”
“We had better meet tomorrow at two, and, if possible, I will see her Majesty in the afternoon. Good night, Mr. Monk.”
“Good night, Duke.”
“My reign is ended. You are a good deal an older man than I, and yet probably yours has yet to begin.” Mr. Monk smiled and shook his head as he left the room, not trusting himself to discuss so large a subject at so late an hour of the night.
Without waiting a moment after his colleague’s departure, the Prime Minister—for he was still Prime Minister—went into his wife’s room, knowing that she was waiting up till she should hear the result of the division, and there he found Mrs. Finn with her. “Is it over?” asked the Duchess.
“Yes;—there has been a division. Mr. Monk has just been with me.”
“Well!”
“We have beaten them, of course, as we always do,” said the Duke, attempting to be pleasant. “You didn’t suppose there was anything to fear? Your husband has always bid you keep up your courage;—has he not, Mrs. Finn?”
“My husband has lost his senses, I think,” she said. “He has taken to such storming and raving about his political enemies that I hardly dare to open my mouth.”
“Tell me what has been done, Plantagenet,” ejaculated the Duchess.
“Don’t you be as unreasonable as Mrs. Finn, Cora. The House has voted against Sir Orlando’s amendment by a majority of nine.”
“Only nine!”
“And I shall cease to be Prime Minister tomorrow.”
“You don’t mean to say that it’s settled?”
“Quite settled. The play has been played, and the curtain has fallen, and the lights are being put out, and the poor weary actors may go home to bed.”
“But on such an amendment surely any majority would have done.”
“No, my dear. I will not name a number, but nine certainly would not do.”
“And it is all over?”
“My Ministry is all over, if you mean that.”
“Then everything is over for me. I shall settle down in the country and build cottages, and mix draughts. You, Marie, will still be going up the tree. If Mr. Finn manages well he may come to be Prime Minister some day.”
“He has hardly such ambition, Lady Glen.”
“The ambition will come fast enough;—will it not, Plantagenet? Let him once begin to dream of it as possible, and the desire will soon be strong enough. How should you feel if it were so?”
“It is quite impossible,” said Mrs. Finn, gravely.
“I don’t see why anything is impossible. Sir Orlando will be Prime Minister now, and Sir
