“The matter is important,” the Chancellor continued slowly, and as if he weighed his words. “I cannot precisely make a promise, Mr. Vaughan; but if your cousin could see the question of the Bill in another light, I have little doubt that any object in reason could be secured for him. If, for instance, it should be necessary in passing the Bill through the Upper House to create new—eh?”
He paused, looking at Vaughan, who laughed outright. “Sir Robert would not cross the park to save my life, my lord,” he said. “And I am sure he would rather hang outside the White Lion in Chippinge marketplace than resign his opinions or his borough!”
“He’ll lose the latter, whether or no,” Brougham answered, with a touch of irritation. “Was there not some trouble about his wife? I think I remember something.”
“They were separated many years ago.”
“She is alive, is she not?”
“Yes.”
Brougham saw, perhaps, that the subject was not palatable, and he abandoned it. With an abrupt change of manner he flung the books from him with the recklessness of a boy, and raised his sombre figure to its height. “Well, well,” he said, “I hoped for better things; but I fear, as Tommy Moore sings—
“He’s pledged himself, though sore bereft
Of ways and means of ruling ill,
To make the most of what are left