such success, to be
durable, must found itself on the knowledge of wearisome details, and
the study of that practical business which jarred on his tastes, though
it suited his talents. Harley had been indolent for so many years,--and
there is so much to make indolence captivating to a man whose rank is
secured, who has nothing to ask from fortune, and who finds at his home
no cares from which he seeks a distraction; so he laughed at ambition in
the whim of his delightful humours, and the expectations formed from
his diplomatic triumph died away. But then came one of those political
crises, in which men ordinarily indifferent to politics rouse themselves
to the recollection that the experiment of legislation is not made upon
dead matter, but on the living form of a noble country; and in both
Houses of Parliament the strength of party is put forth.

It is a lovely day in spring, and Harley is seated by the window of
his old room at Knightsbridge,--now glancing to the lively green of
the budding trees; now idling with Nero, who, though in canine old age,
enjoys the sun like his master; now repeating to himself, as he turns
over the leaves of his favourite Horace, some of those lines that make
the shortness of life the excuse for seizing its pleasures and
eluding its fatigues, which formed the staple morality of the polished
epicurean; and Violante (into what glorious beauty her maiden bloom
has matured!) comes softly into the room, seats herself on a low stool
beside him, leaning her face on her hands, and looking up at him
through her dark, clear, spiritual eyes; and as she continues to speak,
gradually a change comes over Harley's aspect, gradually the brow grows
thoughtful, and the lips lose their playful smile. There is no hateful
assumption of the would-be "superior woman," no formal remonstrance, no
lecture, no homily which grates upon masculine pride; but the high theme
and the eloquent words elevate unconsciously of themselves, and the
Horace is laid aside,--a Parliamentary Blue Book has been, by some
marvel or other, conjured there in its stead; and Violante now moves
away as softly as she entered. Harley's hand detains her.

"Not so. Share the task, or I quit it. Here is an extract I condemn you
to copy. Do you think I would go through this labour if you were not to
halve the success?--halve the labour as well!"

And Violante, overjoyed, kisses away the implied rebuke, and sits down
to work, so demure and so pr