s, he must not
increase the complications and difficulties by actively intervening in
the work. Therefore his mind was disturbed and distressed; and he
watched with a sometimes sickening eagerness for every new edition of
the papers, and was always on the look-out for telegrams either
addressed to himself personally or fired at Sir Rupert in the Foreign
Office.

He had other troubles too. He was beginning to be seriously alarmed
about his own feelings to Helena Langley. He was beginning to feel,
whenever he was away from her, that 'inseparable sigh for her,' which
Byron in one of the most human of all his very human moods, has so
touchingly described. He felt that she was far too young for him, and
that the boat of his shaky fortunes was not meant to carry a bright and
beautiful young woman in it--a boat that might go to pieces on a rock at
any moment after it had tried to put to sea; and which must,
nevertheless, try to put to sea. Then again he had been irritated by
paragraphs in the society papers coupling his name more or less
conjecturally with that of Helena Langley. 'All this must come to an
end,' he thought. 'I have got my work to do, and I must go and do it.'

One evening Ericson wandered along outside the gates of the Park, and
along the chalky roads that led by the sea-wall towards the little town.
The place was lonely even at that season. The rush of Londoners had not
yet found a way there. To 'Arry and 'Arriet it offered no manner of
attraction. The sunset was already over, but there was still a light and
glow in the sky. The Dictator looked at his watch. It wanted a quarter
to seven--there was yet time enough, before returning to dress for the
eight o'clock dinner. 'I must make up my mind,' he said to himself; 'I
must go.'

He heard the rattle of wheels, and towards him came a light pony
carriage with two horses, a footman sitting behind, and a young woman
driving. It was Helena. She pulled up the moment she saw him.

'I have been down into the town,' she said.

'Seeing after your poor?'

'Oh--well--yes--I like seeing after them. It's no sacrifice on my
part--I dare say I shouldn't do it if I didn't like it. Shall I drive
you home?'

'It is early,' he said, hesitatingly; 'I thought of enjoying the evening
a little yet.'

This was not well said, but Helena thought nothing of it.

'May I walk with you?' she asked, 'and I'll send the carriage home.'

'I shall only be too happy to be with you,' th