himself in his opinion that he had been right, then would any answer be necessary?  He might just acknowledge the letter, after the fashion which has come up in official life, than which silence is an insult much more bearable.  But he did not wish to insult, nor to punish her further.  He would willingly have withdrawn the punishment under which she was groaning could he have done so with self-abasement.  Or he might write as she had done,—­advocating his own cause with all his strength, using that last one strong argument,—­there should not have been a ‘moment’.  But there would be something repulsive to his personal dignity in the continued correspondence which this would produce.  ’The Duke of Omnium regrets to say, in answer to Mrs Finn’s letter, that he thinks no good can be attained by a prolonged correspondence.’  Such, or of such kind, he thought must be his answer.  But would this be a fair return for the solicitude shown to her by his uncle, for the love which had made her so patient a friend to his wife, for the nobility of her own conduct in many things?  Then his mind reverted to certain jewels,—­supposed to be of enormous value,—­which were still in his possession though they were the property of this woman.  They had been left to her by his uncle, and she had obstinately refused to take them.  Now they were lying packed in the cellars of certain bankers,—­but still they were in his custody.  What should he do now in this matter?  Hitherto, perhaps once in every six months, he had notified to her that he was keeping them as her curator, and she had always repeated that it was a charge from which she could not relieve him.  It had become almost a joke between them.  But how could he joke with a woman with whom he had quarrelled after this internecine fashion?

What if he were to consult Lady Cantrip?  He could not do so without a pang that would have been very bitter to him,—­but any agony would be better than arising from a fear that he had been unjust to one who had deserved so well of him.  No doubt Lady Cantrip would see it in the same light as he had done.  And then he would be able to support himself by the assurance that that which had judged to be right was approved of by one whom the world would acknowledge to be a good judge on such a matter.

When he got home he found his son’s letter telling him of the election at Silverbridge.  There was something in it which softened his heart to that young man,—­or perhaps it was that in the midst of his many discomforts he wished to find something which at least was not painful to him.  That his son and heir should insist in entering political life in opposition to him was of course a source of pain; but, putting that aside, the thing had been done pleasantly enough, and the young member’s letter had been written with some good feeling.  So he answered the letter as pleasantly as he knew how.

’My dear Silverbridge

’I am glad you are in Parliament and am glad also that you should have been returned by the old borough; though I would that you could have reconciled yourself to the politics of your family.  But there is nothing disgraceful in such a change, and I am able to congratulate you as a father should a son and to wish you long life and success as a legislator.