force itself forward at no very distant date. But it had not been
expected to do so now. The general incompetence of a Ministry who
could not command a majority on any measure was intended to be the
strong point of the Liberal party, not only at the election, but at
the meeting of Parliament. The Church question, which was necessarily
felt by all statesmen to be of such magnitude as to dwarf every
other, was not wanted as yet. It might remain in the background as
the future standing-point for some great political struggle, in which
it would be again necessary that every Liberal should fight, as
though for life, with his teeth and nails. Men who ten years since
regarded almost with abhorrence, and certainly with distrust, the
idea of disruption between Church and State in England, were no
doubt learning to perceive that such disruption must come, and were
reconciling themselves to it after that slow, silent, inargumentative
fashion in which convictions force themselves among us. And from
reconciliation to the idea some were advancing to enthusiasm on its
behalf. "It is only a question of time," was now said by many who
hardly remembered how devoted they had been to the Established Church
of England a dozen years ago. But the fruit was not yet ripe, and the
leaders of the Liberal party by no means desired that it should be
plucked. They were, therefore, surprised, and but little pleased,
when they found that the question was more discussed than any other
on the hustings of enthusiastically political boroughs.

Barrington Erle was angry when he received the letter of Phineas
Finn. He was at that moment staying with the Duke of St. Bungay,
who was regarded by many as the only possible leader of the Liberal
party, should Mr. Gresham for any reason fail them. Indeed the old
Whigs, of whom Barrington Erle considered himself to be one, would
have much preferred the Duke to Mr. Gresham, had it been possible