On the opposite side of the busy and wide street to that on which the splendid Home Office stands, rises the no less splendid Colonial Office; and, just as Arthur, Marquis of Douro, left the former structure, Edward Stanley Sydney departed from the latter: they met in the centre of the street.
'Well, Ned,' said my brother, as they shook hands, 'how are you to-day? I should think this bright sun and sky ought to enliven you if anything can.'
'Why, my dear Douro,' replied Mr. Sydney, with a faint smile, 'such lovely, genial weather may, and I have no doubt does, elevate the spirits of the free and healthy; but for me, whose mind and body are a continual prey to all the heaviest cares of public and private life, it signifies little whether sun cheer or rain damp the atmosphere.'
'Edward,' replied Arthur, his features at the same time assuming that disagreeable expression which my landlord denominates by the term 'scorney;' 'now don't begin to bore me, Ned, with trash of that description, I'm tired of it quite: pray have you recollected that to-day is a half-holiday in all departments of the Treasury?'
'Yes; and the circumstance has cost me some money; these silly old customs ought to be abolished in my opinion—they are ruinous.'
'Why, what have you given the poor fellows?'
'Two sovereigns;' an emphatic hem formed Arthur's reply to the communication.
They had now entered Nokel Street, and were proceeding in silence past the line of magnificent shops which it contains, when the sound of wheels was heard behind them, and a smooth-rolling chariot dashed up and stopped just where they stood. One of the window-glasses now fell, a white hand was put out and beckoned them to draw near, while a silvery voice said,
'Mr. Sydney, Marquis of Douro, come hither a moment.'
Both the gentlemen obeyed the summons, Arthur with alacrity, Sydney with reluctance.