gined that the girl was in love with him.
After a little while he would go away--to Gloria, most likely--and she
would soon find some other hero, and one day he would read in the papers
that the daughter of Sir Rupert Langley was married. Then he would write
her a letter of congratulation, and in due course he would receive from
her a friendly answer--and there an end.

Perhaps just now he was more concerned about his own feelings than about
hers--much more, indeed, because he had not the remotest suspicion that
her feelings were in any wise disturbed. But his own? He began to think
it time that he should grow acquainted with his heart, and search what
stirred it so. He could not conceal from himself the fact that he was
growing more and more attached to the companionship of this beautiful,
clever, and romantic girl. He found that she disputed Gloria in his
mind. He found that, mingling imperceptibly with his hope of a
triumphant return to Gloria, was the thought that _she_ would feel the
triumph too, or the painful thought that if it came she would not be
near him to hear the story. He found that one of the delights of his
lonely midnight walks was the quiet thought of her. It used to be a
gladness to him to recall, in those moments of solitude, some word that
she had spoken--some kindly touch of her hand.

He began to grow afraid of his position and his feelings. What had he to
do with falling in love? That was no part of the work of his life. What
could it be to him but a misfortune if he were to fall in love with this
girl who was so much younger than he? Supposing it possible that a girl
of that age could love him, what had he to offer her? A share in a
career that might well prove desperate--a career to be brought to a
sudden and swift close, very probably by his own death at the hands of
his successful enemies in Gloria! Think of the bright home in which he
found that girl--of the tender, almost passionate, love she bore to her
father, and which her father returned with such love for her--think of
the brilliant future that seemed to await her, and then think of the
possibility of her ever being prevailed upon to share his dark and
doubtful fortunes. The Dictator was not a rich man. Much of what he once
had was flung away--or at all events given away--in his efforts to set
up reform and constitutionalism in Gloria. The plain truth of the
position was that even if Helena Langley were at all likely to fall in
love