coming CRISIS;—if he preferred the peerage? Darrell demurred still. The man's modesty was insufferable—his style of speaking might not suit that august assembly; and as to law— he could never now be a law lord—he should be but a ci-devant advocate, affecting the part of a judicial amateur.
In short, without declining to re-enter public life, seeming on the contrary to resume all his interest in it, Darrell contrived with admirable dexterity to elude for the present all overtures pressed upon him, and even to convince his admirers, not only of his wisdom but of his patriotism in that reticence. For certainly he thus managed to exercise a very considerable influence —his advice was more sought, his suggestions more heeded, and his power in reconciling certain rival jealousies was perhaps greater than would have been the case if he had actually entered either House of Parliament, and thrown himself exclusively into the ranks, not only of one party, but of one section of a party. Nevertheless, such suspense could not last very long; he must decide at all events before the next session. Once he was seen in the arena of his old triumphs, on the benches devoted to strangers distinguished by the Speaker's order. There, recognized by the older members, eagerly gazed at by the younger, Guy Darrell listened calmly, throughout a long field night, to voices that must have roused from forgotten graves, kindling and glorious memories; voices of those—veterans now— by whose side he had once struggled for some cause which he had then, in the necessary exaggeration of all honest enthusiasm, identified with a nation's life-blood. Voices too of the old antagonists, over whose routed arguments he had marched triumphant amidst applauses that the next day rang again through England from side to side. Hark, the very man with whom, in the old battle-days, he had been the most habitually pitted, is speaking now. His tones are embarrassed—his argument confused. Does he know who listens yonder .'* Old members think so—smile, whisper each other, and glance significantly where Darrell sits.
Sits, as became him, tranquil, respectful, intent, seemingly, perhaps really, unconscious of the sensation he excites. What an e}'e for an orator! how like the eye in a portrait! it seems to fix on each other eye that seeks it—steady, fascinating. Yon distant members behind the Speaker's chair, at the far distance, feel the light of that eye travel toward them. How lofty and massive among all those rows of human heads seems that fore- head, bending slightly down, with the dark, strong line of the weighty eyebrow! But what is passing within that secret mind?
