“I have had some thoughts of it,” he answered with subdued eagerness, “but I do not know of any constituency that would accept me. I am almost a stranger to my country.” “Ah! yes--that German education of yours was a great mistake--a great mistake,” said the Duke, with drawn brow; but after a few moments his face cleared and he drew rein, his companion following his example. “But after all, you might manage it--it might be done. Do you see yonder heap of stones away there to the left? Well, that marks the site of an old manor belonging to us. That heap of stones returns a member to Parliament. _I_ return the member, in point of fact, as you doubtless know. The old member now sitting is growing infirm and deaf: he feels the journeys backwards and forwards too much for him. I think it will not be long before he resigns. When he does so, the borough will fall vacant, and I can give it as I please. Then would come your chance, boy.” Eustace had flushed quickly; now he grew pale. The whole iniquity of this system of rotten boroughs was one of the flagrant abuses of the day, which he stood pledged to sweep away. Whilst growing and opulent cities like Manchester, Birmingham, and Sheffield had no representation of any kind, a heap of stones, a lonely field, a tiny group of hovels frequently returned a member to Parliament. Practically the House of Lords returned half the House of Commons, and the middle and lower classes were scarcely represented in any way. Eager as Eustace was for a voice in the legislation of the future, he hesitated to think of gaining it in such a fashion. “You are very good, uncle, he said”--he found it pleased the Duke to be so addressed. “But I am afraid I should hardly be a candidate to your mind. Times advance, and men’s views change, and I suspect that mine and yours are scarcely in accord.” He had expected a sharp and almost scornful answer, and certainly a close and sifting examination; but nothing of the kind came, and looking into his kinsman’s face, Eustace was surprised to see a strangely far-away and softened expression stealing over it. “Times change!--ay, verily, they do--and men with them,” he said, in a very gentle tone, “and we must learn to be patient with new ways and not condemn them unheard. Boy, I am not fond of change. I have lived my life from day to day and year to year in quiet and peace, and I have not seen that good follows on the steps of those things that men call reform. But I am an old man now, and shall not be here much longer. What I think matters little, so that the right be done. Do not be afraid to speak to me freely. I will, at least, hear you patiently. I have learned that God’s purposes may be fulfilling themselves when we can least see it. I may not agree, nor yet approve, but at least I can strive after patience.”