nfidence that had been accepted by Mr. Caning, and conciliation began
to be an accepted phrase, which meant in practice some share on their
part of the good things of the State. The country itself required
nothing. There was a general impression, indeed, that they had been
advancing at a rather rapid rate, and that it was as well that the reins
should be entrusted to a wary driver. Zenobia, who represented society,
was enraptured that the career of revolution had been stayed. She still
mourned over the concession of the Manchester and Liverpool Railway in a
moment of Liberal infatuation, but flattered herself that any extension
of the railway system might certainly be arrested, and on this head the
majority of society, perhaps even of the country, was certainly on her
side.

"I have some good news for you," said one of her young favourites as he
attended her reception. "We have prevented this morning the lighting of
Grosvenor Square by gas by a large majority."

"I felt confident that disgrace would never occur," said Zenobia,
triumphant. "And by a large majority! I wonder how Lord Pomeroy voted."

"Against us."

"How can one save this country?" exclaimed Zenobia. "I believe now the
story that he has ordered Lady Pomeroy not to go to the Drawing Room in
a sedan chair."

One bright May morning in the spring that followed the formation of the
government that was to last for ever, Mrs. Ferrars received the world
at a fanciful entertainment in the beautiful grounds of her Wimbledon
villa. The day was genial, the scene was flushed with roses and pink
thorns, and brilliant groups, amid bursts of music, clustered and
sauntered on the green turf of bowery lawns. Mrs. Ferrars, on a
rustic throne, with the wondrous twins in still more wonderful attire,
distributed alternate observations of sympathetic gaiety to a Russian
Grand Duke and to the serene heir of a German principality. And yet
there was really an expression on her countenance of restlessness,
not to say anxiety, which ill accorded with the dulcet tones and the
wreathed smiles which charmed her august companions. Zenobia, the great
Zenobia, had not arrived, and the hours were advancing. The Grand Duke
played with the beautiful and haughty infants, and the German Prince
inquired of Endymion whether he were destined to be one of His Majesty's
guards; but still Zenobia did not come, and Mrs. Ferrars could scarcely
conceal her vexation. But there was no real occasion f