r the third party had clearly arrived. It was known that he
had the list of the next ministry in his breast-pocket, but it was only
shown to Mr. Tremaine Bertie, who confided in secrecy to the initiated
that it was the strongest government since "All the Talents."

Notwithstanding this great opportunity, "All the Talents" were not
summoned. The leader of the Protectionists renounced the attempt in
despair, and the author of the anti-papal manifesto was again sent
for, and obliged to introduce the measure which had already destroyed a
government and disorganised a party.

"Sidney Wilton," said Lady Montfort to her husband, "says that they are
in the mud, and he for one will not go back--but he will go. I know him.
He is too soft-hearted to stand an appeal from colleagues in distress.
But were I you, Endymion, I would not return. I think you want a little
rest, or you have got a great deal of private business to attend to,
or something of that kind. Nobody notices the withdrawal of an
under-secretary except those in office. There is no necessity why you
should be in the mud. I will continue to receive, and do everything
that is possible for our friends, but I think my husband has been an
under-secretary long enough."

Endymion quite agreed with his wife. The minister offered him preferment
and the Privy Council, but Lady Montfort said it was really not so
important as the office he had resigned. She was resolved that he should
not return to them, and she had her way. Ferrars himself now occupied a
rather peculiar position, being the master of a great fortune and of an
establishment which was the headquarters of the party of which he was
now only a private member; but, calm and collected, he did not lose his
head; always said and did the right thing, and never forgot his early
acquaintances. Trenchard was his bosom political friend. Seymour Hicks,
who, through Endymion's kindness, had now got into the Treasury, and
was quite fashionable, had the run of the House, and made himself
marvellously useful, while St. Barbe, who had become by mistake a member
of the Conservative Club, drank his frequent claret cup every Saturday
evening at Lady Montfort's receptions with many pledges to the welfare
of the Liberal administration.

The flag of the Tory party waved over the magnificent mansion of which
Imogene Beaumaris was the graceful life. As parties were nearly equal,
and the ministry was supposed to be in decay, the rival rec