t very pleasantly with her. Mr Palliser received
political letters from England, which made his mouth water sadly,
and was often very fidgety. Parliament was not now sitting, and the
Government would, of course, remain intact till next February. Might
it not be possible that when the rent came in the Cabinet, he might
yet be present at the darning? He was a constant man, and had once
declared his intention of being absent for a year. He continued to
speak to Grey of his coming travels, as though it was impossible
that they should be over until after the next Easter. But he was
sighing for Westminster, and regretting the blue books which were
accumulating themselves at Matching;--till on a sudden, there came to
him tidings which upset all his plans, which routed the ponies, which
made everything impossible, which made the Alps impassable and the
railways dangerous, which drove Burgo Fitzgerald out of Mr Palliser's
head, and so confused him that he could no longer calculate the
blunders of the present Chancellor of the Exchequer. All the Palliser
world was about to be moved from its lowest depths, to the summits of
its highest mountains. Lady Glencora had whispered into her husband's
ear that she thought it probable--; she wasn't sure;--she didn't
know. And then she burst out into tears on his bosom as he sat by her
on her bedside.

He was beside himself when he left her, which he did with the
primary intention of telegraphing to London for half a dozen leading
physicians. He went out by the lake side, and walked there alone for
ten minutes in a state of almost unconscious exaltation. He did not
quite remember where he was, or what he was doing. The one thing in
the world which he had lacked; the one joy which he had wanted so
much, and which is so common among men, was coming to him also. In a
few minutes it was to him as though each hand already rested on the
fair head of a little male Palliser, of whom one should rule in the
halls at Gatherum, and the other be eloquent among the Commons of
England. Hitherto,--for the last eight or nine months, since his
first hopes had begun to fade,--he had been a man degraded in his own
sight amidst all his honours. What good was all the world to him if
he had nothing of his own to come after him? We must give him his
due, too, when we speak of this. He had not had wit enough to hide
his grief from his wife; his knowledge of women and of men in social
life had not been sufficient to