ing pleasantly, vanished with that nod. Egerton remained, standing
on his solitary hearth. A drear, single man's room it was, from wall
to wall, despite its fretted ceilings and official pomp of Brahmah
escritoires and red boxes. Drear and cheerless,--no trace of woman's
habitation, no vestige of intruding, happy children. There stood the
austere man alone. And then with a deep sigh he muttered, "Thank Heaven,
not for long,--it will not last long."

Repeating those words, he mechanically locked up his papers, and pressed
his hand to his heart for an instant, as if a spasm had shot through it.

"So--I must shun all emotion!" said he, shaking his head gently.

In five minutes more Audley Egerton was in the streets, his mien erect,
and his step firm as ever.

"That man is made of bronze," said a leader of the Opposition to a
friend as they rode past the minister. "What would I not give for his
nerves!"

BOOK NINTH.

INITIAL CHAPTER.

ON PUBLIC LIFE.

Now that I am fairly in the heart of my story, these preliminary
chapters must shrink into comparatively small dimensions, and not
encroach upon the space required by the various personages whose
acquaintance I have picked up here and there, and who are now all
crowding upon me like poor relations to whom one has unadvisedly given
a general invitation, and who descend upon one simultaneously about
Christmas time. Where they are to be stowed, and what is to become of
them all, Heaven knows; in the mean while, the reader will have already
observed that the Caxton Family themselves are turned out of their own
rooms, sent a packing, in order to make way for the new comers.

But to proceed: Note the heading to the present Chapter, "ON PUBLIC
LIFE,"--a thesis pertinent to this portion of my narrative; and if
somewhat trite in itself, the greater is the stimulus to suggest thereon
some original hints for reflection.

Were you ever in public life, my dear reader? I don't mean, by that
question, to ask whether you were ever Lord Chancellor, Prime Minister,
Leader of the Opposition, or even a member of the House of Commons. An
author hopes to find readers far beyond that very egregious but very
limited segment of the Great Circle. Were you ever a busy man in your
vestry, active in a municipal corporation, one of a committee for
furthering the interests of an enlightened candidate for your native
burgh, town, or shire,--in a word, did you ever resign your private