“But these terrible rendings asunder never last very long,” said Lord Cantrip, “unless a man changes his opinions altogether.  How many quarrels and how many reconciliations we have lived to see!  I remember when Gresham went out of office, because he could not sit in the same room with Mr. Mildmay, and yet they became the fastest of political friends.  There was a time when Plinlimmon and the Duke could not stable their horses together at all; and don’t you remember when Palliser was obliged to give up his hopes of office because he had some bee in his bonnet?” I think, however, that the bee in Mr. Palliser’s bonnet to which Lord Cantrip was alluding made its buzzing audible on some subject that was not exactly political.  “We shall have you back again before long, I don’t doubt.  Men who can really do their work are too rare to be left long in the comfort of the benches below the gangway.”  This was very kindly said, and Phineas was flattered and comforted.  He could not, however, make Lord Cantrip understand the whole truth.  For him the dream of a life of politics was over for ever.  He had tried it, and had succeeded beyond his utmost hopes; but, in spite of his success, the ground had crumbled to pieces beneath his feet, and he knew that he could never recover the niche in the world’s gallery which he was now leaving.

That same afternoon he met Mr. Gresham in one of the passages leading to the House, and the Prime Minister put his arm through that of our hero as they walked together into the lobby.  “I am sorry that we are losing you,” said Mr. Gresham.

“You may be sure that I am sorry to be so lost,” said Phineas.

“These things will occur in political life,” said the leader; “but I think that they seldom leave rancour behind them when the purpose is declared, and when the subject of disagreement is marked and understood.  The defalcation which creates angry feeling is that which has to be endured without previous warning,—­when a man votes against his party,—­or a set of men, from private pique or from some cause which is never clear.”  Phineas, when he heard this, knew well how terribly this very man had been harassed, and driven nearly wild, by defalcation, exactly of that nature which he was attempting to describe.  “No doubt you and Mr. Monk think you are right,” continued Mr. Gresham.

“We have given strong evidence that we think so,” said Phineas.  “We give up our places, and we are, both of us, very poor men.”

“I think you are wrong, you know, not so much in your views on the question itself—­which, to tell the truth, I hardly understand as yet.”

“We will endeavour to explain them.”

“And will do so very clearly, no doubt.  But I think that Mr. Monk was wrong in desiring, as a member of a Government, to force a measure which, whether good or bad, the Government as a body does not desire to initiate,—­at any rate, just now.”

“And therefore he resigned,” said Phineas.