At last she found that it was incumbent on her to begin.  “Were you surprised at our suddenness when you got my note?”

“A little.  You had spoken of waiting.”

“I had never imagined that he would have been impetuous.  And he seems to think that even the business of getting himself married would not justify him staying away from Parliament.  He is a rigid martinet in all matters of duty.”

“I did not wonder that he should be in a hurry, but that you should submit.”

“I told you that I should do just what the wise people told me.  I asked papa, and he said that it would be better.  So the lawyers were driven out of their minds, and the milliners out of their bodies, and the thing was done.”

“Who was there at the marriage?”

“Oswald was not there.  That I know is what you mean to ask.  Papa said that he might come if he pleased.  Oswald stipulated that he should be received as a son.  Then my father spoke the hardest word that ever fell from his mouth.”

“What did he say?”

“I will not repeat it,—­not altogether.  But he said that Oswald was not entitled to a son’s treatment.  He was very sore about my money, because Robert was so generous as to his settlement.  So the breach between them is as wide as ever.”

“And where is Chiltern now?” said Phineas.

“Down in Northamptonshire, staying at some inn from whence he hunts.  He tells me that he is quite alone,—­that he never dines out, never has any one to dine with him, that he hunts five or six days a week,—­and reads at night.”

“That is not a bad sort of life.”

“Not if the reading is any good.  But I cannot bear that he should be so solitary.  And if he breaks down in it, then his companions will not be fit for him.  Do you ever hunt?”

“Oh yes,—­at home in county Clare.  All Irishmen hunt.”

“I wish you would go down to him and see him.  He would be delighted to have you.”

Phineas thought over the proposition before he answered it, and then made the reply that he had made once before.  “I would do so, Lady Laura,—­but that I have no money for hunting in England.”

“Alas, alas!” said she, smiling.  “How that hits one on every side!”

“I might manage it,—­for a couple of days,—­in March.”

“Do not do what you think you ought not to do,” said Lady Laura.

“No; certainly.  But I should like it, and if I can I will.”

“He could mount you, I have no doubt.  He has no other expense now, and keeps a stable full of horses.  I think he has seven or eight.  And now tell me, Mr. Finn; when are you going to charm the House?  Or is it your first intention to strike terror?”

He blushed,—­he knew that he blushed as he answered.  “Oh, I suppose I shall make some sort of attempt before long.  I can’t bear the idea of being a bore.”

“I think you ought to speak, Mr. Finn.”