‘But you do change your ministers,’ said Tregear.

’A secretary may quarrel with the President, or he may have the gout, or be convicted of peculation.’

‘And yet you think yourselves more nearly free than we are.’

’I am not so sure of that.  We have had a pretty difficult task, that of carrying on a government in a new country, which is nevertheless more populous than almost any old country.  The influxions are so rapid, that every ten years the nature of the people is changed.  It isn’t easy; and though I think on the whole we’ve done pretty well, I am not going to boast that Washington is as yet a seat of political Paradise.’

CHAPTER 77

‘Mabel, Good-Bye’

When Tregear first came to town with his arm in a sling, and bandages all round him,—­in order that he might be formally accepted by the Duke,—­he had himself taken to one other house besides the house in Carlton Terrace.  He went to Belgrave Square, to announce his fate to Lady Mabel Grex;—­but Lady Mabel Grex was not there.  The Earl was ill at Brighton, and Lady Mabel had gone down to nurse him.  The old woman who came to him in the hall told him that the Earl was very ill;—­he had been attacked by the gout, but in spite of the gout, and in spite of the doctors, he had insisted on being taken to his club.  Then he had been removed to Brighton, under the doctor’s advice, chiefly in order that he might be kept out of the way of temptation.  Now he was supposed to be very ill indeed.  ‘My Lord is so imprudent!’ said the old woman, shaking her old head in real unhappiness.  For though the Earl had been a tyrant to everyone near him, yet when a poor woman becomes old it is something to have a tyrant to protect her.  ‘My Lord!’ always had been imprudent.  Tregear knew that it had been the theory of my Lord’s life that to eat and drink, and die was better than to abstain and live.  Then Tregear wrote to his friend as follows: 

’My dear Mabel,

’I am up in town again as you will perceive, although I am still in a helpless condition and hardly able to write even this letter.  I called today and was very sorry to hear so bad an account of your father.  Had I been able to travel I should have come down to you.  When I am able I will do so if you would wish to see me.  In the meantime pray tell me how he is, and how you are.

’My news is this.  The Duke accepted me.  It is great news to me, and I hope will be acceptable to you.  I do believe that if a friend has been anxious for a friend’s welfare you have been anxious for mine,—­as I have been and ever shall be for yours.’

’Of course this thing will be very much to me.  I will not speak now of my love for the girl who is to become my wife.  You might again call me Romeo.  Nor do I like to say much of what may now be pecuniary prospects.  I did not ask Mary to become my wife because I supposed she would be rich.  But I could not have married her or anyone else who had not money.  What are the Duke’s intentions I have not the slightest idea, nor shall I ask him.  I am to go down to Matching at Easter, and shall endeavour to have some time fixed.  I suppose the Duke will say something about money.  If he does not, I shall not.