Mr. Monk walked home alone, and as he went there was something of a feeling of disappointment at heart, which made him ask himself whether Mr. Turnbull might not have been right in rebuking him for joining the Government.  But this, I think, was in no way due to Mr. Mildmay’s resignation, but rather to a conviction on Mr. Monk’s part that that he had contributed but little to his country’s welfare by sitting in Mr. Mildmay’s Cabinet.

CHAPTER XXX

Mr. Kennedy’s Luck

After the holding of that Cabinet Council of which the author has dared to attempt a slight sketch in the last chapter, there were various visits made to the Queen, first by Mr. Mildmay, and then by Lord de Terrier, afterwards by Mr. Mildmay and the Duke together, and then again by Lord de Terrier; and there were various explanations made to Parliament in each House, and rivals were very courteous to each other, promising assistance;—­and at the end of it the old men held their seats.  The only change made was effected by the retirement of Sir Marmaduke Morecombe, who was raised to the peerage, and by the selection of—­Mr. Kennedy to fill his place in the Cabinet.  Mr. Kennedy during the late debate had made one of those speeches, few and far between, by which he had created for himself a Parliamentary reputation; but, nevertheless, all men expressed their great surprise, and no one could quite understand why Mr. Kennedy had been made a Cabinet Minister.

“It is impossible to say whether he is pleased or not,” said Lady Laura, speaking of him to Phineas.  “I am pleased, of course.”

“His ambition must be gratified,” said Phineas.

“It would be, if he had any,” said Lady Laura.

“I do not believe in a man lacking ambition.”

“It is hard to say.  There are men who by no means wear their hearts upon their sleeves, and my husband is one of them.  He told me that it would be unbecoming in him to refuse, and that was all he said to me about it.”

The old men held their seats, but they did so as it were only upon further trial.  Mr. Mildmay took the course which he had indicated to his colleagues at the Cabinet meeting.  Before all the explanations and journeyings were completed, April was over, and the much-needed Whitsuntide holidays were coming on.  But little of the routine work of the session had been done; and, as Mr. Mildmay told the House more than once, the country would suffer were the Queen to dissolve Parliament at this period of the year.  The old Ministers would go on with the business of the country, Lord de Terrier with his followers having declined to take affairs into their hands; and at the close of the session, which should be made as short as possible, writs should be issued for new elections.  This was Mr. Mildmay’s programme, and it was one of which no one dared to complain very loudly.