It would be hardly just to say that there was jealousy.

His nature was essentially free from jealousy.

But there was shame,--and self-accusation at having accepted so great an office with so little fixed purpose as to great work.

It might be his duty to subordinate even his pride to the service of his country, and to consent to be a faineant minister, a gilded Treasury log, because by remaining in that position he would enable the Government to be carried on.

But how base the position, how mean, how repugnant to that grand idea of public work which had hitherto been the motive power of all his life! How would he continue to live if this thing were to go on from year to year,--he pretending to govern while others governed,--stalking about from one public hall to another in a blue ribbon, taking the highest place at all tables, receiving mock reverence, and known to all men as faineant First Lord of the Treasury?
Now, as he had been thinking of all this, the most trusted of his friends had come to him, and had at once alluded to the very circumstances which had been pressing so heavily on his mind.