On the following morning at about eleven Silverbridge and his brother were at breakfast at an hotel in Jermyn Street. They had slept in Carlton Terrace, but Lord Gerald had done so without the knowledge of the Duke. Lord Silverbridge, as he was putting himself to bed, had made up his mind to tell the story to the Duke at once, but when the morning came his courage failed him. The two young men therefore slunk out of the house, and as there was no breakfasting at the Beargarden they went to this hotel. They were both rather gloomy, but the elder brother was the more sad of the two. "I\'d give anything I have in the world," he said, "that you hadn\'t come up at all."

"Things have been so unfortunate!"

"Why the deuce wouldn\'t you go when I told you?"

"Who on earth would have thought that they\'d have been so punctual? They never are punctual on the Great Eastern. It was an infernal shame. I think I shall go at once to Harnage and tell him all about it." Mr. Harnage was Lord Gerald\'s tutor.

"But you\'ve been in ever so many rows before."

"Well,—I\'ve been gated, and once when they\'d gated me I came right upon Harnage on the bridge at King\'s."

"What sort of a fellow is he?"

"He used to be good-natured. Now he has taken ever so many crotchets into his head. It was he who began all this about none of the men going to the Derby."

"Did you ask him yourself for leave?"

"Yes. And when I told him about your owning Prime Minister he got savage and declared that was the very reason why I shouldn\'t go."

"You didn\'t tell me that."

"I was determined I would go. I wasn\'t going to be made a child of."

At last it was decided that the two brothers should go down to Cambridge together. Silverbridge would be able to come back to London the same evening, so as to take his drag down to the Oaks on the Friday,—a duty from which even his present misery would not deter him. They reached Cambridge at about three, and Lord Silverbridge at once called at the Master\'s lodge and sent in his card. The Master of Trinity is so great that he cannot be supposed to see all comers, but on this occasion Lord Silverbridge was fortunate. With much trepidation he told his story. Such being the circumstances, could anything be done to moderate the vials of wrath which must doubtless be poured out over the head of his unfortunate brother?

"Why come to me?" said the Master. "From what you say yourself, it is evident that you know that this must rest with the College tutor."

"I thought, sir, if you would say a word."

"Do you think it would be right that I should interfere for one special man, and that a man of special rank?"

"Nobody thinks that would count for anything. But—"

"But what?" asked the Master.

"If you knew my father, sir!"

"Everybody knows your father;—every Englishman I mean. Of course I know your father,—as a public man, and I know how much the country owes to him."

"Yes, it does. But it is not that I mean. If you knew how this would,—would,—would break his heart." Then there came a tear into the young man\'s eye,—and there was something almost like a tear in the eye of the old man too. "Of course it was my fault. I got him to come. He hadn\'t the slightest intention of staying. I think you will believe what I say about that, sir."

"I believe every word you say, my Lord."

"I got into a row at Oxford. I daresay you heard. There never was anything so stupid. That was a great grief to my father,—a very great grief. It is so hard upon him because he never did anything foolish himself."

"You should try to imitate him." Silverbridge shook his head. "Or at least not to grieve him."

"That is it. He has got over the affair about me. As I\'m the eldest son I\'ve got into Parliament, and he thinks perhaps that all has been forgotten. An eldest son may, I fancy, be a greater ass than his younger brother." The Master could not but smile as he thought of the selection which had been made of a legislator. "But if Gerald is sent down, I don\'t know how he\'ll get over it." And now the tears absolutely rolled down the young man\'s face, so that he was forced to wipe them from his eyes.

The Master was much moved. That a young man should pray for himself would be nothing to him. The discipline of the college was not in his hands, and such prayers would avail nothing with him. Nor would a brother praying simply for a brother avail much. A father asking for his son might be resisted. But the brother asking pardon for the brother on behalf of the father was almost irresistible. But this man had long been in a position in which he knew that no such prayers should ever prevail at all. In the first place it was not his business. If he did anything, it would only be by asking a favour when he knew that no favour should be granted;—and a favour which he of all men should not ask, because to him of all men it could not be refused. And then the very altitude of the great statesman whom he was invited to befriend,—the position of this Duke who had been so powerful and might be powerful again, was against any such interference. Of himself he might be sure that he would certainly have done this as readily for any Mr. Jones as for the Duke of Omnium; but were he to do it, it would be said of him that it had been done because the man was Duke of Omnium. There are positions exalted beyond the reach of benevolence, because benevolence would seem to be self-seeking. "Your father, if he were here," said he, "would know that I could not interfere."

"And will he be sent down?"

"I do not know all the circumstances. From your own showing the case seems to be one of great insubordination. To tell the truth, Lord Silverbridge, I ought not to have spoken to you on the subject at all."

"You mean that I should not have spoken to you."

"Well; I did not say so. And if you have been indiscreet I can pardon that. I wish I could have served you; but I fear that it is not in my power." Then Lord Silverbridge took his leave, and going to his brother\'s rooms waited there till Lord Gerald had returned from his interview with the tutor.

"It\'s all up," said he, chucking down his cap, striving to be at his ease. "I may pack up and go—just where I please. He says that on no account will he have anything more to do with me. I asked him what I was to do, and he said that the governor had better take my name off the books of the college. I did ask whether I couldn\'t go over to Maclean."

"Who is Maclean?"

"One of the other tutors. But the brute only smiled."

"He thought you meant it for chaff."

"Well;—I suppose I did mean to show him that I was not going to be exterminated by him. He will write to the governor to-day. And you will have to talk to the governor."

Yes! As Lord Silverbridge went back that afternoon to London he thought very much of that talking to the governor! Never yet had he been able to say anything very pleasant to "the governor." He had himself been always in disgrace at Eton, and had been sent away from Oxford. He had introduced Tregear ............