midnight
` I quite agree with you , ' said Henry Sydney . ` The best thing we can do is to keep as clear of political party as we possibly can . How many men waste the best part of their lives in painfully apologising for conscientious deviation from a parliamentary course which they adopted when they were boys , without thought , or prompted by some local connection , or interest , to secure a seat . ' It was the midnight following the morning when this conversation took place , that Coningsby , alone , and having just quitted a rather boisterous party of wassailers who had been celebrating at Buckhurst 's rooms the triumph of ` Eton Statesmen , ' if not of Conservative principles , stopped in the precincts of that Royal College that reminded him of his schooldays , to cool his brow in the summer air , that even at that hour was soft , and to calm his mind in the contemplation of the still , the sacred , and the beauteous scene that surrounded him . There rose that fane , the pride and boast of Cambridge , not unworthy to rank among the chief temples of Christendom . Its vast form was exaggerated in the uncertain hour ; part shrouded in the deepest darkness , while a flood of silver light suffused its southern side , distinguished with revealing beam the huge ribs of its buttresses , and bathed with mild lustre its airy pinnacles . ` Where is the spirit that raised these walls ? '