Endymion | Page 6

had many charms, and, though haughty to the
multitude, was a first-rate flatterer. Zenobia liked flattery, and always
said she did. Mr. Under-Secretary Ferrars took a mansion in Hill Street,
and furnished it with befitting splendour. His dinners were celebrated,
and Mrs. Ferrars gave suppers after the opera. The equipages of Mrs.
Ferrars were distinguished, and they had a large retinue of servants.
They had only two children, and they were twins, a brother and a sister,
who were brought up like the children of princes. Partly for them, and
partly because a minister should have a Tusculum, the Ferrars soon
engaged a magnificent villa at Wimbledon, which had the advantage of
admirable stables, convenient, as Mrs. Ferrars was fond of horses, and
liked the children too, with their fancy ponies, to be early accustomed
to riding. All this occasioned expenditure, but old Mr. Ferrars made his
son a liberal allowance, and young Mrs. Ferrars was an heiress, or the
world thought so, which is nearly the same, and then, too, young Mr.
Ferrars was a rising man, in office, and who would always be in office

for the rest of his life; at least, Zenobia said so, because he was on the
right side and the Whigs were nowhere, and never would be anywhere,
which was quite right, as they had wished to make us the slaves of
Bonaparte.
When the King, after much hesitation, send for Mr. Canning, on the
resignation of Lord Liverpool, the Zenobian theory seemed a little at
fault, and William Ferrars absolutely out of office had more than one
misgiving; but after some months of doubt and anxiety, it seemed after
all the great lady was right. The unexpected disappearance of Mr.
Canning from the scene, followed by the transient and embarrassed
phantom of Lord Goderich, seemed to indicate an inexorable destiny
that England should be ruled by the most eminent men of the age, and
the most illustrious of her citizens. William Ferrars, under the
inspiration of Zenobia, had thrown in his fortunes with the Duke, and
after nine months of disquietude found his due reward. In the January
that succeeded the August conversation in St. James' Street with Sidney
Wilton, William Ferrars was sworn of the Privy Council, and held high
office, on the verge of the Cabinet.
Mr. Ferrars had a dinner party in Hill Street on the day he had returned
from Windsor with the seals of his new office. The catastrophe of the
Goderich Cabinet, almost on the eve of the meeting of Parliament, had
been so sudden, that, not anticipating such a state of affairs, Ferrars,
among his other guests, had invited Sidney Wilton. He was rather
regretting this when, as his carriage stopped at his own door, he
observed that very gentleman on his threshold.
Wilton greeted him warmly, and congratulated him on his promotion.
"I do so at once," he added, "because I shall not have the opportunity
this evening. I was calling here in the hope of seeing Mrs. Ferrars, and
asking her to excuse me from being your guest to-day."
"Well, it is rather awkward," said Ferrars, "but I could have no idea of
this when you were so kind as to say you would come."
"Oh, nothing of that sort," said Sidney. "I am out and you are in, and I
hope you may be in for a long, long time. I dare say it may be so, and

the Duke is the man of the age, as you always said he was. I hope your
being in office is not to deprive me of your pleasant dinners; it would
be too bad to lose my place both at Whitehall and in Hill Street."
"I trust that will never happen, my dear fellow; but to-day I thought it
might be embarrassing."
"Not at all; I could endure without wincing even the triumphant glances
of Zenobia. The fact is, I have some business of the most pressing
nature which has suddenly arisen, and which demands my immediate
attention."
Ferrars expressed his regret, though in fact he was greatly relieved, and
they parted.
Zenobia did dine with the William Ferrars to-day, and her handsome
husband came with her, a knight of the garter, and just appointed to a
high office in the household by the new government. Even the
excitement of the hour did not disturb his indigenous repose. It was a
dignified serenity, quite natural, and quite compatible with easy and
even cordial manners, and an address always considerate even when
not sympathetic. He was not a loud or a long talker, but his terse
remarks were full of taste and a just appreciation of things. If they were
sometimes trenchant, the blade was of fine temper. Old Mr. Ferrars was
there and the Viscountess Edgware.