The session was protracted for two months after that—beyond the time at which grouse should have been shot—and by the 23rd of August became the law of the land. “I shall never get over it,” said Mr. Ratler to Mr. Finn, seated one terribly hot evening on a bench behind the Cabinet Ministers—“never. I don’t suppose such a session for work was ever known before. Think what it is to have to keep men together in August, with the thermometer at 81°, and the river stinking like—like the very mischief.” Mr. Ratler, however, did not die.
On the last day of the session Laurence Fitzgibbon resigned. Rumours reached the ears of Phineas as to the cause of this, but no certain cause was told him. It was said that Lord Cantrip had insisted upon it, Laurence having by mischance been called upon for some official statement during an unfortunate period of absence. There was, however, a mystery about it;—but the mystery was not half so wonderful as the triumph to Phineas, when Mr. Gresham offered him the place.
“But I shall have no seat,” said Phineas.
“We shall none of us have seats tomorrow,” said Mr. Gresham.
“But I shall be at a loss to find a place to stand for.”
“The election will not come on till November, and you must look about you. Both Mr. Monk and Lord Brentford seem to think you will be in the House.”
And so the bill was carried, and the session was ended.
XLVIII
“The Duke”
By the middle of September there was assembled a large party at Matching Priory, a country mansion belonging to Mr. Plantagenet Palliser. The men had certainly been chosen in reference to their political feelings and position—for there was not a guest in the house who had voted for Mr. Turnbull’s clause, or the wife or daughter, or sister of anyone who had so voted. Indeed, in these days politics ran so high that among politicians all social gatherings were brought together with some reference to the state of parties. Phineas was invited, and when he arrived at Matching he found that half the Cabinet was there. Mr. Kennedy was not there, nor was Lady Laura. Mr. Monk was there, and the Duke—with the Duchess, and Mr. Gresham, and Lord Thrift; Mrs. Max Goesler was there also, and Mrs. Bonteen—Mr. Bonteen being detained somewhere out of the way; and Violet Effingham was expected in two days, and Lord Chiltern at the end of the week. Lady Glencora took an opportunity of imparting this latter information to Phineas very soon after his arrival; and Phineas, as he watched her eye and her mouth while she spoke, was quite sure that Lady Glencora knew the story of the duel. “I shall be delighted to see him again,” said Phineas. “That is all right,” said Lady Glencora. There were also there Mr. and Mrs. Grey, who were great friends of the Pallisers—and on the very day on which Phineas reached Matching, at half an hour before the time for dressing, the Duke of Omnium arrived. Now, Mr. Palliser was the Duke’s nephew and heir—and the Duke of Omnium was a very great person indeed. I hardly know why it should have been so, but the Duke of Omnium was certainly a greater man in public estimation than the other duke then present—the Duke of St. Bungay. The Duke of St. Bungay was a useful man, and had been so all his life, sitting in Cabinets and serving his country, constant as any peer in the House of Lords, always ready to take on his own shoulders any troublesome work required of him, than whom Mr. Mildmay, and Mr. Mildmay’s predecessor at the head of the liberal party, had had no more devoted adherent. But the Duke of Omnium had never yet done a day’s work on behalf of his country. They both wore the Garter, the Duke of St. Bungay having earned it by service, the Duke of Omnium having been decorated with the blue ribbon—because he was Duke of Omnium. The one was a moral, good man, a good husband, a good father, and a good friend. The other—did not bear quite so high a reputation. But men and women thought but little of the Duke of St. Bungay, while the other duke was regarded with an almost reverential awe. I think the secret lay in the simple fact that the Duke of Omnium had not been common in the eyes of the people. He had contrived to envelope himself in something of the ancient mystery of wealth and rank. Within three minutes of the Duke’s arrival Mrs. Bonteen, with an air of great importance, whispered a word to Phineas. “He has come. He arrived exactly at seven!”
“Who has come?” Phineas asked.
“The Duke of Omnium!” she said, almost reprimanding him by her tone of voice for his indifference. “There has been a great doubt whether or no he would show himself at last. Lady Glencora told me that he never will pledge himself. I am so glad he has come.”
“I don’t think I ever saw him,” said Phineas.
“Oh, I have seen him—a magnificent-looking man! I think it is so very nice of Lady Glencora getting him to meet us. It is very rarely that he will join in a great party, but they say Lady Glencora can do anything with him since the heir was born. I suppose you have heard all about that.”
“No,” said Phineas; “I have heard nothing of the heir, but I know that there are three or four babies.”
“There was no heir, you know, for a year and a half, and they were all au désespoir; and the Duke was very nearly quarrelling with his nephew; and Mr. Palliser—; you know it had very
