In this state of mind, there was nothing for him to do but to plunge into business; and affairs of state are a cure for many cares and sorrows. What are our petty annoyances and griefs when we have to guard the fortunes and the honour of a nation?
The November cabinets had commenced, and this brought all the chiefs to town, Sidney Wilton among them; and his society was always a great pleasure to Endymion; the only social pleasure now left to him was a little dinner at Mr. Wilton’s, and little dinners there abounded. Mr. Wilton knew all the persons that he was always thinking about, but whom, it might be noticed, they seemed to agree now rarely to mention. As for the rest, there was nobody to call upon in the delightful hours between official duties and dinner. No Lady Roehampton now, no brilliant Berengaria, and not even the gentle Imogene with her welcome smile. He looked in at the Coventry Club, a club of fashion, and also much frequented by diplomatists. There were a good many persons there, and a foreign minister immediately buttonholed the Under-Secretary of State.
“I called at the Foreign Office to-day,” said the foreign minister. “I assure you it is very pressing.”
“I had the American with me,” said Endymion, “and he is very lengthy. However, as to your business, I think we might talk it over here, and perhaps settle it.” And so they left the room together.
“I wonder what is going to happen to that gentleman,” said Mr. Ormsby, glancing at Endymion, and speaking to Mr. Cassilis.
“Why?” replied Mr. Cassilis, “is anything up?”
“Will he marry Lady Montfort?”
“Poh!” said Mr. Cassilis.
“You may poh!” said Mr. Ormsby, “but he was a great favourite.”
“Lady Montfort will never marry. She had always a poodle, and always will have. She was never so liee with Ferrars as with the Count of Ferroll, and half a dozen others. She must have a slave.”