or a seat in Parliament. He found it
with no great trouble and has kept it ever since. No one would have the
heart to turn him out, he is so good-looking. It's a great thing to be
represented by one of the handsomest men in England, it creates such a
favorable association of ideas. Any one would be amazed to discover that
the borough he sits for, and the name of which I am always forgetting,
is not a very pretty place. I have never seen it, and have no idea that
it is n't, and I am sure he will survive every revolution. The people
must feel that if they should n't keep him some monster would be
returned. You remember his appearance,--how tall, and fair, and strong
he is, and always laughing, yet without looking silly. He is exactly
the young man girls in America figure to themselves--in the place of the
hero--when they read English novels, and wish to imagine something very
aristocratic and Saxon. A "bright Bostonian" who met him once at my
house, exclaimed as soon as he had gone out of the room, "At last, at
last, I behold it, the mustache of Roland Tremayne!"

"Of Roland Tremayne!"

"Don't you remember in _A Lawless Love_, how often it's mentioned, and
how glorious and golden it was? Well, I have never seen it till now, but
now I _have_ seen it!"

If you had n't seen Ambrose Tester, the best description I could give
of him would be to say that he looked like Roland Tremayne. I don't know
whether that hero was a "strong Liberal," but this is what Sir Ambrose
is supposed to be. (He succeeded his father two years ago, but I shall
come to that.) He is not exactly what I should call thoughtful,
but he is interested, or thinks he is, in a lot of things
that I don't understand, and that one sees and skips in the
newspapers,--volunteering, and redistribution, and sanitation, and the
representation of minors--minorities--what is it? When I said just now
that he is always laughing, I ought to have explained that I did n't
mean when he is talking to Lady Vandeleur. She makes him serious, makes
him almost solemn; by which I don't mean that she bores him. Far from
it; but when he is in her company he is thoughtful; he pulls his golden
mustache, and Roland Tremayne looks as if his vision were turned in,
and he were meditating on her words. He does n't say much himself; it is
she--she used to be so silent--who does the talking. She has plenty to
say to him; she describes to him the charms that she discovers in the
path of duty. H