the other string to his bow. If it were possible so to arrange and to
strengthen his faction, that, by the _coup d'etat_ of a sudden
resignation in a formidable body, the whole Government might be broken
up, and a new one formed from among the resignees, it would obviously be
the best plan. But then Lord Vargrave was doubtful of his own strength,
and fearful to play into the hands of his colleagues, who might be able
to stand even better without himself and his allies, and by conciliating
the Opposition take a step onward in political movement,--which might
leave Vargrave placeless and powerless for years to come.

He repented his own rashness in the recent debate, which was, indeed, a
premature boldness that had sprung out of momentary excitement--for the
craftiest orator must be indiscreet sometimes. He spent the next few
days in alternately seeking to explain away to one party, and to sound,
unite, and consolidate the other. His attempts in the one quarter were
received by the premier with the cold politeness of an offended but
careful statesman, who believed just as much as he chose, and preferred
taking his own opportunity for a breach with a subordinate to risking any
imprudence by the gratification of resentment. In the last quarter, the
penetrating adventurer saw that his ground was more insecure than he had
anticipated. He perceived in dismay and secret rage that many of those
most loud in his favour while he was with the Government would desert him
the soonest if thrown out. Liked as a subordinate minister, he was
viewed with very different eyes the moment it was a question whether,
instead of cheering his sentiments, men should trust themselves to his
guidance. Some did not wish to displease the Government; others did not
seek to weaken but to correct them. One of his stanchest allies in the
Commons was a candidate for a peerage; another suddenly remembered that
he was second cousin to the premier. Some laughed at the idea of a
puppet premier in Lord Saxingham; others insinuated to Vargrave that he