oes now. Don't you see? He can take them all with him
now. Wait till you've heard him to-morrow night!"

Here was happiness for her and for him, but where else? Not in the
compromise, not in the year of quiet. It seemed to be for this that they
had come together, in this that they could help one another, feel with
one another, be really at one. And this could not be. The tears stood in
May Quisante's eyes as she turned away from the pleasant shrewd old
schemer; his picture should stand no more on the mantelpiece. But now it
seemed again strange and incredible that this, the great career, could
not be; Aunt Maria's was the creed for a time like this.

The great night came, and a great crowd in the Corn Exchange. Old Foster
was in the chair and the place seemed full of familiar faces; the butcher
who was troubled about slaughter-houses sat side by side with the man who
was uneasy about his deceased wife's sister; Japhet Williams was on the
platform and his men sat in close ranks at the back of the hall, they and
Dunn's contingent hard-by smoking their pipes as the custom was at
Henstead. There were other faces, not so usual; for far away, in a
purposely chosen obscurity, May saw Weston Marchmont and the Dean of St.
Neot's. The Mildmays themselves could not be present, but these two had
come over from Moors End and sat there now, the Dean beaming in
anticipation of a treat, Marchmont with a rather supercilious smile and
an air of weariness. May could not catch their eyes but she felt glad to
have them there; it was always pleasant to her that her friends should
see Quisante when he was at his best, and he was going to be at his best
to-night.

"We are rejoiced to welcome our Member back among us in good health and
strength again," old Foster began, quite in the Aunt Maria style, and he
went on to describe the grief caused by Quisante's illness and the joy
now felt at the prospect of his being able to render services to his
Queen, his country, and his constituency no less long than valuable and
brilliant. Quisante listened with a smile, gently tapping the table with
his fingers. May turned from him to seek again her friends' faces in the
hall; this time she met their gaze; they were both looking at her with
pitying eyes; the instant they saw her glance, they avoided it. What did
that mean? It meant that they were not of Aunt Maria's party. The kindly
compassionate look of those two men went to her heart; it brought back
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