“If seats were halveable, he should share mine, for the sake of auld lang syne,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon.

“But not to-morrow night,” said Barrington Erle; “the division to-morrow will be a thing not to be joked with.  Upon my word I think they’re right about old Moody.  All private considerations should give way.  And as for Gunning, I’d have him up or I’d know the reason why.”

“And shall we have no defaulters, Barrington?” asked Lady Laura.

“I’m not going to boast, but I don’t know of one for whom we need blush.  Sir Everard Powell is so bad with gout that he can’t even bear any one to look at him, but Ratler says that he’ll bring him up.”  Mr. Ratler was in those days the Whip on the liberal side of the House.

“Unfortunate wretch!” said Miss Fitzgibbon.

“The worst of it is that he screams in his paroxysms,” said Mr. Bonteen.

“And you mean to say that you’ll take him into the lobby,” said Lady Laura.

“Undoubtedly,” said Barrington Erle.  “Why not?  He has no business with a seat if he can’t vote.  But Sir Everard is a good man, and he’ll be there if laudanum and bath-chair make it possible.”

The same kind of conversation went on during the whole of dinner, and became, if anything, more animated when the three ladies had left the room.  Mr. Kennedy made but one remark, and then he observed that as far as he could see a majority of nineteen would be as serviceable as a majority of twenty.  This he said in a very mild voice, and in a tone that was intended to be expressive of doubt; but in spite of his humility Barrington Erle flew at him almost savagely,—­as though a liberal member of the House of Commons was disgraced by so mean a spirit; and Phineas found himself despising the man for his want of zeal.

“If we are to beat them, let us beat them well,” said Phineas.

“Let there be no doubt about it,” said Barrington Erle.

“I should like to see every man with a seat polled,” said Bonteen.

“Poor Sir Everard!” said Lord Brentford.  “It will kill him, no doubt, but I suppose the seat is safe.”

“Oh, yes; Llanwrwsth is quite safe,” said Barrington, in his eagerness omitting to catch Lord Brentford’s grim joke.

Phineas went up into the drawing-room for a few minutes after dinner, and was eagerly desirous of saying a few more words,—­he knew not what words,—­to Lady Laura.  Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Bonteen had left the dining-room first, and Phineas again found Mr. Kennedy standing close to Lady Laura’s shoulder.  Could it be possible that there was anything in it?  Mr. Kennedy was an unmarried man, with an immense fortune, a magnificent place, a seat in Parliament, and was not perhaps above forty years of age.  There could be no reason why he should not ask Lady Laura to be his wife,—­except, indeed, that he did not seem to have sufficient words at command to ask anybody for anything.  But could it be