slightest feeling. I do not doubt that Mr. Westmacott
would ruin me with the most perfect satisfaction, if by doing so he
could bring the seat within his own reach again; and yet I believe
Mr. Westmacott to be a kind-hearted, good sort of man. There is a
theory among Englishmen that in politics no man need spare another.
To wish that your opponent should fall dead upon the hustings is not
an uncharitable wish at an election."

"Oh, papa!" exclaimed Patience.

"At any rate you are elected," said Clary.

"And threatened folk live long, uncle," said Mary Bonner.

"So they say, my dear. Well, Patience, don't look at me with so much
reprobation in your eyes, and I will go to bed at once. Being here
instead of at the Percy Standard does make one inclined to take a
liberty."

"Oh, papa, it is such a delight to have you," said Clary, jumping up
and kissing her father's forehead. All this was pleasant enough, and
the first evening came to an end very happily.

The next morning Patience, when she was alone with her father, made
a request to him with some urgency. "Papa," she said, "do not say
anything to Clary about Ralph."

"Why not?"

"If there is anything in it, let it die out of itself."

"But is there?"

"How am I to say? Think of it, papa. If I knew it, I could hardly
tell,--even you."

"Why not? If I am not to hear the truth from you who is to tell me?"

"Dear papa, don't be angry. There may be a truth which had better not
be told. What we both want is that Clary shouldn't suffer. If you
question her she will suffer. You may be sure of this,--that she will
obey your wishes."

"How can she obey them, unless she knows them?"

"She shall know them," said Patience. But Sir Thomas would give no
promise.

On that same day Sir Thomas sent for his niece into his room, and
there read to her the letter which he had received from the Squire's
son. It was now the last week of October,--that short blessed morsel
of time which to the poor Squire at Newton was the happiest of his
life. He was now cutting down trees and building farm-houses, and
looking after his stud in all the glory of his success. Ralph had
written his letter, and had received his answer,--and he also was
successful and glorious. That fatal day on which the fox would not
break from Barford Woods had not yet arrived. Mary Bonner heard the
letter read, and listened to Sir Thomas's speech without a word,
without a blush, and without a sign. Sir Thoma