young man, who, from his youth upwards, had been to her a cause of fear and trembling.  Of course it was desirable that Violet should marry an elder son, and a peer’s heir.  All that kind of thing, in Lady Baldock’s eyes, was most desirable.  But, nevertheless, anything was better than Lord Chiltern.  If Violet would not take Mr. Appledom or Lord Fawn, in heaven’s name let her take this young man, who was kind, worthy, and steady, who was civilised in his manners, and would no doubt be amenable in regard to settlements.  Lady Baldock had so far fallen in the world that she would have consented to make a bargain with her niece,—­almost any bargain, so long as Lord Chiltern was excluded.  Phineas did not quite understand all this; but when Lady Baldock asked him to come to Berkeley Square, he perceived that help was being proffered to him where he certainly had not looked for help.

He was frequently with Lord Brentford, who talked to him constantly on matters connected with his parliamentary life.  After having been the intimate friend of the daughter and of the son, it now seemed to be his lot to be the intimate friend of the father.  The Earl had constantly discussed with him his arrangements with his son, and had lately expressed himself as only half satisfied with such reconciliation as had taken place.  And Phineas could perceive that from day to day the Earl was less and less satisfied.  He would complain bitterly of his son,—­complain of his silence, complain of his not coming to London, complain of his conduct to Violet, complain of his idle indifference to anything like proper occupation; but he had never as yet said a word to show that there had been any quarrel between Violet and her lover, and Phineas had felt that he could not ask the question.  “Mr. Finn,” said the Earl to him one morning, as soon as he entered the room, “I have just heard a story which has almost seemed to me to be incredible.”  The nobleman’s manner was very stern, and the fact that he called his young friend “Mr. Finn”, showed at once that something was wrong.

“What is it you have heard, my lord?” said Phineas.

“That you and Chiltern went over,—­last year to,—­Belgium, and fought,—­a duel there!”

Now it must have been the case that, in the set among which they all lived,—­Lord Brentford and his son and daughter and Phineas Finn,—­the old lord was the only man who had not heard of the duel before this.  It had even penetrated to the dull ears of Mr. Kennedy, reminding him, as it did so, that his wife had,—­told him a lie!  But it was the fact that no rumour of the duel had reached the Earl till this morning.

“It is true,” said Phineas.

“I have never been so much shocked in my life;—­never.  I had no idea that you had any thought of aspiring to the hand of Miss Effingham.”  The lord’s voice as he said this was very stern.

“As I aspired in vain, and as Chiltern has been successful, that need not now be made a reproach against me.”