“It is this business about which you and Myra are so kindly interesting yourselves,” said Endymion with some emotion; “I do not think I could go into parliament.” “Not go into parliament!” exclaimed Lady Montfort. “Why, what are men made for except to go into parliament? I am indeed astounded.” “I do not disparage parliament,” said Endymion; “much the reverse. It is a life that I think would suit me, and I have often thought the day might come”---- “The day has come,” said Lady Montfort, “and not a bit too soon. Mr. Fox went in before he was of age, and all young men of spirit should do the same. Why! you are two-and-twenty!” “It is not my age,” said Endymion hesitatingly; “I am not afraid about that, for from the life which I have led of late years, I know a good deal about the House of Commons.” “Then what is it, dear Endymion?” said Lady Montfort impatiently. “It will make a great change in my life,” said Endymion calmly, but with earnestness, “and one which I do not feel justified in accepting.” “I repeat to you, that you need give yourself no anxiety about the seat,” said Lady Montfort. “It will not cost you a shilling. I and your sister have arranged all that. As she very wisely said, ‘It must be done,’ and it is done. All you have to do is to write an address, and make plenty of speeches, and you are M.P. for life, or as long as you like.” “Possibly; a parliamentary adventurer, I might swim or I might sink; the chances are it would be the latter, for storms would arise, when those disappear who have no root in the country, and no fortune to secure them breathing time and a future.” “Well, I did not expect, when you handed me out of my carriage to-day, that I was going to listen to a homily on prudence.” “It is not very romantic, I own,” said Endymion, “but my prudence is at any rate not a commonplace caught up from copy-books. I am only two-and-twenty, but I have had some experience, and it has been very bitter. I have spoken to you, dearest lady, sometimes of my earlier life, for I wished you to be acquainted with it, but I observed also you always seemed to shrink from such confidence, and I ceased from touching on what I saw did not interest you.” “Quite a mistake. It greatly interested me. I know all about you and everything. I know you were not always a clerk in a public office, but the spoiled child of splendour. I know your father was a dear good man, but he made a mistake, and followed the Duke of Wellington instead of Mr. Canning. Had he not, he would probably be alive now, and certainly Secretary of State, like Mr. Sidney Wilton. But _you_ must not make a mistake, Endymion. My business in life, and your sister’s too, is to prevent your making mistakes. And you are on the eve of making a very great one if you lose this golden opportunity. Do not think of the past; you dwell on it too much. Be like me, live in the present, and when you dream, dream of the future.”