“Nay; it is because I could not marry that I am not a clergyman.” Endymion had taken Adriana down to dinner. She looked very well, and was more talkative than usual. “I fear it will be a very great confusion--this general election,” she said. “Papa was telling us that you think of being a candidate.” “I am a candidate, but without a seat to captivate at present,” said Endymion; “but I am not without hopes of making some arrangement.” “Well, you must tell me what your colours are.” “And will you wear them?” “Most certainly; and I will work you a banner if you be victorious.” “I think I must win with such a prospect.” “I hope you will win in everything.” When the ladies retired, Berengaria came and sate by the side of Lady Roehampton. “What a dreary dinner!” she said. “Do you think so?” “Well, perhaps it was my own fault. Perhaps I am not in good cue, but everything seems to me to go wrong.” “Things sometimes do go wrong, but then they get right.” “Well, I do not think anything will ever get right with me.” “Dear Lady Montfort, how can you say such things? You who have, and have always had, the world at your feet--and always will have.” “I do not know what you mean by having the world at my feet. It seems to me that I have no power whatever--I can do nothing. I am vexed about this business of your brother. Our people are so stupid. They have no resource. When I go to them and ask for a seat, I expect a seat, as I would a shawl at Howell and James’ if I asked for one. Instead of that they only make difficulties. What our party wants is a Mr. Tadpole; he out-manoeuvres them in every corner.” “Well, I shall be deeply disappointed--deeply pained,” said Lady Roehampton, “if Endymion is not in this parliament, but if we fail I will not utterly despair. I will continue to do what I have done all my life, exert my utmost will and power to advance him.” “I thought I had will and power,” said Lady Montfort, “but the conceit is taken out of me. Your brother was to me a source of great interest, from the first moment that I knew him. His future was an object in life, and I thought I could mould it. What a mistake! Instead of making his fortune I have only dissipated his life.” “You have been to him the kindest and the most valuable of friends, and he feels it.” “It is no use being kind, and I am valuable to no one. I often think if I disappeared to-morrow no one would miss me.” “You are in a morbid mood, dear lady. To-morrow perhaps everything will be right, and then you will feel that you are surrounded by devoted friends, and by a husband who adores you.” Lady Montfort gave a scrutinising glance at Lady Roehampton as she said this, then shook her head. “Ah! there it is, dear Myra. You judge from your own happiness; you do not know Lord Montfort. You know how I love him, but I am perfectly convinced he prefers my letters to my society.”