is
entrance into that Chamber as the hour of his triumph; but he had
entered it with Mr Bott, and there had been no triumph to him in
doing so. He had sworn to himself that when there he would find men
to hear him. Hitherto, indeed, he could not accuse himself of having
missed his opportunities; his election had been so recent that he
could hardly yet have made the attempt. But he had been there long
enough to learn to fancy that there was no glory in attempting. This
art of speaking in Parliament, which had appeared to him to be so
grand, seemed already to be a humdrum, homely, dull affair. No one
seemed to listen much to what was said. To such as himself,--Members
without an acquired name,--men did not seem to listen at all. Mr
Palliser had once, in his hearing, spoken for two hours together, and
all the House had treated his speech with respect,--had declared that
it was useful, solid, conscientious, and what not; but more than half
the House had been asleep more than half the time that he was on his
legs. Vavasor had not as yet commenced his career as an orator; but
night after night, as he sat there, the chance of commencing it with
brilliance seemed to be further from him, and still further. Two
thousand pounds of his own money, and two thousand more of Alice's
money,--or of Mr Grey's,--he had already spent to make his way into
that assembly. He must spend, at any rate, two thousand more if he
intended that his career should be prolonged beyond a three months'
sitting;--and how was he to get this further sum after what had taken
place to-day?

He would get it. That was his resolve as he walked in by the
apple-woman's stall, under the shadow of the great policeman, and
between the two august lamps. He would get it;--as long as Alice had
a pound over which he could obtain mastery by any act or violence
within his compass. He would get it; even though it should come
through the hands of John Grey and Mr Tombe. He would get it; though
in doing so he might destroy his cousin Alice and ruin his sister
Kate. He had gone too far to stick at any scruples. Had he not often
declared how great had been that murderer who had been able to divest
himself of all such scruples,--who had scoured his bosom free from
all fears of the hereafter, and, as regarded the present, had dared
to trust for everything to success? He would go to Alice and demand
the money from her with threats, and with that violence in his eyes
which he knew