After the vote on the Speakership, Mr. Ferrars was offered a
second-class West Indian government. His wife would not listen to it. If
it were Jamaica, the offer might be considered, though it could scarcely
be accepted without great sacrifice. The children, for instance, must be
left at home. Strange to say, Mr. Ferrars was not disinclined to accept
the inferior post. Endymion he looked upon as virtually provided for,
and Myra, he thought, might accompany them; if only for a year. But he
ultimately yielded, though not without a struggle, to the strong feeling
of his wife.

"I do not see why I also should not be left behind," said Myra to her
brother in one of their confidential walks. "I should like to live in
London in lodgings with you."

The approaching appointment of her brother filled her from the first
with the greatest interest. She was always talking of it when they were
alone--fancying his future life, and planning how it might be happier
and more easy. "My only joy in life is seeing you," she sometimes said,
"and yet this separation does not make me unhappy. It seems a chance
from heaven for you. I pray every night it may be the Foreign Office."

The ministry were still sanguine as to their prospects in the month
of March, and they deemed that public opinion was rallying round Sir
Robert. Perhaps Lord John Russell, who was the leader of the opposition,
felt this, in some degree, himself, and he determined to bring affairs
to a crisis by notice of a motion respecting the appropriation of the
revenues of the Irish Church. Then Barron wrote to Mr. Ferrars that
affairs did not look so well, and advised him to come up to town, and
take anything that offered. "It is something," he remarked, "to have