"How near are two
hearts when there is no deceit between them!" And the misunderstanding
of their mutual sentiments being removed, their affection became at once
visible to each other. And Constance reproaching herself for her former
pride mingled in her manner to her husband a gentle, even an humble
sweetness, which, being exactly that which he had most desired in her,
was what most attracted him.

At this time, Lord John Russell brought forward the Bill of
Parliamentary Reform. Lady Erpingham was in the lantern of the House of
Commons on that memorable night; like every one else, her feelings at
first were all absorbed in surprise. She went home; she hastened to
Godolphin's library. Leaning his head on his hand, that strange person,
in the midst of events that stirred the destinies of Europe, was
absorbed in the old subtleties of Spinosa. In the frank confidence of
revived love, she put her hand upon his shoulder, and told him rapidly
that news which was then on its way to terrify or delight the whole of
England.

"Will this charm you, dear Constance?" said he kindly; "is it a blow to
the party you hate, and I sympathise with--or----

"My father," interrupted Constance, passionately, "would to Heaven
he had seen this day! It was this system, the patron and the nominee
system, that crushed, and debased, and killed him. And now, I shall see
that system destroyed!"

"So, then, my Constance will go over to the Whigs in earnest?"

"Yes, because I shall meet there truth and the people!"

Godolphin laughed gently at the French exaggeration of the saying, and
Constance forgave him. The fine ladies of London were a little divided
as to the merits of the "Bill;" Constance was the first that declared in
its favour. She was air important ally--as important at least as a woman
can be. A bright spirit reigned in her eye; her step grew more elastic;
her voice more glad. This was the happiest time of her life--she was
happy in the renewal of her love, happy in the approaching triumph of
her hate.

CHAPTER LXI.

THE SOLILOQUY OF THE SOOTHSAYER.--AN EPISODICAL MYSTERY, INTRODUCED AS
A TYPE OF THE MANY THINGS IN LIFE THAT ARE NEVER ACCOUNTED
FOR.--GRATUITOUS DEVIATIONS FROM OUR COMMON CAREER.

In Leicester Square there is a dim old house, which I have but this
instant visited, in order to bring back more vividly to my recollection
the wild and unhappy being who, for some short time, inhabited its
old-fashioned and glo