Q.C. and in Parliament, would not have greater subjects than this before him, even if he should come to be Solicitor General.  Lord Cantrip had specially asked him to get up this matter,—­and he was getting it up sedulously.  Once in nine years the harbour of Halifax was blocked up by ice.  He had just jotted down the fact, which was material, when Lady Laura’s letter was brought to him.  He read it, and putting it down by his side very gently, went back to his maps as though the thing would not so trouble his mind as to disturb his work.  He absolutely wrote, automatically, certain words of a note about the harbour, after he had received the information.  A horse will gallop for some scores of yards, after his back has been broken, before he knows of his great ruin;—­and so it was with Phineas Finn.  His back was broken, but, nevertheless, he galloped, for a yard or two.  “Closed in 1860-61 for thirteen days.”  Then he began to be aware that his back was broken, and that the writing of any more notes about the ice in Halifax harbour was for the present out of the question.  “I think it best to let you know immediately that she has accepted him.”  These were the words which he read the oftenest.  Then it was all over!  The game was played out, and all his victories were as nothing to him.  He sat for an hour in his gorgeous room thinking of it, and various were the answers which he gave during the time to various messages;—­but he would see nobody.  As for the colonies, he did not care if they revolted to-morrow.  He would have parted with every colony belonging to Great Britain to have gotten the hand of Violet Effingham for himself.  Now,—­now at this moment, he told himself with oaths that he had never loved any one but Violet Effingham.

There had been so much to make such a marriage desirable!  I should wrong my hero deeply were I to say that the weight of his sorrow was occasioned by the fact that he had lost an heiress.  He would never have thought of looking for Violet Effingham had he not first learned to love her.  But as the idea opened itself out to him, everything had seemed to be so suitable.  Had Miss Effingham become his wife, the mouths of the Lows and of the Bunces would have been stopped altogether.  Mr. Monk would have come to his house as his familiar guest, and he would have been connected with half a score of peers.  A seat in Parliament would be simply his proper place, and even Under-Secretaryships of State might soon come to be below him.  He was playing a great game, but hitherto he had played it with so much success,—­with such wonderful luck! that it had seemed to him that all things were within his reach.  Nothing more had been wanting to him than Violet’s hand for his own comfort, and Violet’s fortune to support his position; and these, too, had almost seemed to be within his grasp.  His goddess had indeed refused him,—­but not with disdain.  Even Lady Laura had talked of his marriage as not improbable.  All the world,