‘You would if it were on the other side, sir.’

’Yes, Silverbridge, yes; I should be very proud if it were on the other side.  But there is a useful old adage which bids us not cry for spilt milk.  You have a right to your opinions, though perhaps I may think that in adopting what I must call new opinions you were a little precipitate.  We cannot act together in politics.  But not on the less on that account do I wish to see you take an active and useful part on that side to which you have attached yourself.’  As he said this he rose from his seat and spoke with emphasis, as though he were addressing some imaginary Speaker or a house of legislators around.  ’I shall be proud to hear you second the address.  If you do it as gracefully and fitly as I am sure you may if you will give yourself the trouble, I shall hear you do it with infinite satisfaction, even though I shall feel at the same time anxious to answer all your arguments and to disprove your assertions.  I should be listening no doubt to my opponent;—­but I should be proud to feel that I was listening to my son.  My advice to you is to do as Sir Timothy has asked you.’

‘He is such a beast, sir,’ said Silverbridge.

‘Pray do not speak in that way on matters so serious.’

‘I do not think you understand it, sir.’

‘Perhaps not.  Can you enlighten me?’

‘I believe he has done this only to annoy you.’  The Duke, who had again seated himself, and was leaning back in his chair, raised himself up, placed his hands on the table before him, and looked his son hard in the face.  The idea which Silverbridge had just expressed had certainly occurred to himself.  He remembered well all the circumstances of the time when he and Sir Timothy Beeswax had been members of the same government,—­and he remembered how animosities had grown, and how treacherous he had thought the man.  From the moment in which he had read the minister’s letter to the young member, he had felt that the offer had too probably come from a desire to make the political separation between himself and his son complete.  But he had thought that in counselling his son he was bound to ignore such a feeling; and it certainly had not occurred to him that Silverbridge would have been astute enough to perceive the same thing.

‘What makes you fancy that?’ said the Duke, striving to conceal by his manner, but not altogether successful in concealing, the gratification he certainly felt.

’Well, sir, I am not sure that I can explain it.  Of course it is putting you in a different boat from me.’

‘You have already chosen your boat.’

’Perhaps he thinks I may get out again.  I dislike the skipper so much, that I am not sure that I shall not.’

’Oh, Silverbridge,—­that is such a fault!  So much is included in that which is unstatesmanlike, unpatriotic, almost dishonest!  Do you mean to say that you would be this or that in politics according to your personal liking for an individual?’