Phineas Finn’s first session of Parliament was over — his first session with all its adventures. When he got back to Mrs Bunce’s house — for Mrs Bunce received him for a night in spite of her husband’s advice to the contrary — I am afraid he almost felt that Mrs Bunce and her rooms were beneath him. Of course he was very unhappy — as wretched as a man can be; there were moments in which he thought that it would hardly become him to live unless he could do something to prevent the marriage of Lady Laura and Mr Kennedy. But, nevertheless, he had his consolations¹. These were reflections which had in them much of melancholy² satisfaction. He had not been despised by the woman to whom he had told his love. She had not shown him that she thought him to be unworthy of her. She had not regarded his love as an offence. Indeed, she had almost told him that prudence³ alone had forbidden her to return his passion. And he had kissed her, and had afterwards parted from her as a dear friend. I do not know why there should have been a flavour of exquisite⁴ joy in the midst of his agony as he thought of this — but it was so. He would never kiss her again. All future delights of that kind would belong to Mr Kennedy, and he had no real idea of interfering⁵ with that gentleman in the fruition of his privileges. But still there was the kiss — an eternal fact. And then, in all respects except that of his love, his visit to Loughlinter had been pre-eminently successful, Mr Monk⁶ had become his friend, and had encouraged him to speak during the next session — setting before him various models, and prescribing for him a course of reading. Lord Brentford had become intimate with him. He was on pleasant terms with Mr Palliser and Mr Gresham. And as for Mr Kennedy — he and Mr Kennedy were almost bosom⁷ friends. It seemed to him that he had quite surpassed the Ratlers, Fitzgibbons, and Bonteens in that politico-social success which goes so far towards downright political success, and which in itself is so pleasant. He had surpassed these men in spite of their offices and their acquired positions, and could not but think that even Mr Low, if he knew it all, would confess that he had been right.

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