n as his successor which
alarms me. And I think he is becoming a tyrant with his own men. He
spoke the other day of Lord Drummond almost as though he meant to
have him whipped. It isn't what one expected from him;--is it?"

"The weight of the load on his mind makes him irritable."

"Either that, or having no load. If he had really much to do he
wouldn't surely have time to think so much of that poor wretch who
destroyed himself. Such sensitiveness is simply a disease. One can
never punish any fault in the world if the sinner can revenge himself
upon us by rushing into eternity. Sometimes I see him shiver and
shudder, and then I know that he is thinking of Lopez."

"I can understand all that, Lady Glen."

"It isn't as it should be, though you can understand it. I'll bet you
a guinea that Sir Timothy Beeswax has to go out before the beginning
of next Session."

"I've no objection. But why Sir Timothy?"

"He mentioned Lopez' name the other day before Plantagenet. I heard
him. Plantagenet pulled that long face of his, looking as though he
meant to impose silence on the whole world for the next six weeks.
But Sir Timothy is brass itself, a sounding cymbal of brass that
nothing can silence. He went on to declare with that loud voice
of his that the death of Lopez was a good riddance of bad rubbish.
Plantagenet turned away and left the room and shut himself up. He
didn't declare to himself that he'd dismiss Sir Timothy, because
that's not the way of his mind. But you'll see that Sir Timothy will
have to go."

"That, at any rate, will be a good riddance of bad rubbish," said
Mrs. Finn, who did not love Sir Timothy Beeswax.

Soon after that the Duchess made up her mind that she would
interrogate the Duke of St. Bungay as to the present state of
affairs. It was then the end of June, and nearly one of those long
and tedious months had gone by of which the Duke spoke so feelingly
when he asked Phineas Finn to come down to Matching. Hope had been
expressed in more than one quarter that this would be a short
Session. Such hopes are much more common in June than in July, and,
though rarely verified, serve to keep up the drooping spirits of
languid senators. "I suppose we shall be early out of town, Duke,"
she said one day.

"I think so. I don't see what there is to keep us. It often happens
that ministers are a great deal better in the country than in London,
and I fancy it will be so this year."

"You never think of the