arkness concealed it, and Bobbie chattered on. There was no doubt
that Marsham was in a difficulty. All his sympathies at least were with
the rebels, and their victory would be his profit.

"Yet as every one knows that Marsham is under great obligations to
Ferrier, for him to join the conspiracy these fellows are hatching
doesn't look pretty."

"He won't join it!" said Diana, sharply.

"Well, a good many people think he's in it already. Oh, I dare say it's
all rot!" the speaker added, hastily; "and, besides, it's not at all
certain that Marsham himself will get in next time."

"Get in!" It was a cry of astonishment--passing on into constraint. "I
thought Mr. Marsham's seat was absolutely safe."

"Not it." Bobbie began to flounder. "The fact is it's not safe at all;
it's uncommonly shaky. He'll have a squeak for it. They're not so sweet
on him down there as they used to be."

Gracious!--if she were to ask why! The young man was about hastily to
change the subject when Sir James and his companion came toward them.

"Can't we tempt you out, Miss Mallory?" said Ferrier. "There is a
marvellous change!" He pointed to the plain over which the night was
falling. "When we met you in the church it was still winter, or wintry
spring. Now--in two hours--the summer's come!"

And on Diana's face, as she stepped out to join him, struck a buffet of
warm air; a heavy scent of narcissus rose from the flower-boxes on the
terrace; and from a garden far below came the sharp thin prelude of a
nightingale.

* * * * *

For about half an hour the young girl and the veteran of politics walked
up and down--sounding each other--heart reaching out to
heart--dumbly--behind the veil of words. There was a secret link between
them. The politician was bruised and weary--well aware that just as
Fortune seemed to have brought one of her topmost prizes within his
grasp, forces and events were gathering in silence to contest it with
him. Ferrier had been twenty-seven years in the House of Commons; his
chief life was there, had always been there; outside that maimed and
customary pleasure he found, besides, a woman now white-haired. To
rule--to lead that House had been the ambition of his life. He had
earned it; had scorned delights for it; and his powers were at
their ripest.

Yet the intrigue, as he knew, was already launched that might, at the
last moment, sweep him from his goal. Most of the men concerned in it