It seemed an easy, almost an obvious thing, to promise at the
time. Yet here was this rather unusual young woman asking Mrs.
Vanderpool to use her influence in making Alwyn bow to the yoke. She
fenced for time.

"But I do not know Mr. Alwyn."

"I thought you did; you recommended him highly."

"I knew of him slightly in the South and I have watched his career
here."

"It would be too bad to have that career spoiled now."

"But is it necessary? Suppose he should defend the Education Bill."

"And criticise the party?" asked Miss Wynn. "It would take strong
influence to pull him through."

"And if that strong influence were found?" said Mrs. Vanderpool
thoughtfully.

"It would surely involve some other important concession to the South."

Mrs. Vanderpool looked up, and an interjection hovered on her lips. Was
it possible that the price of Alwyn's manhood would be her husband's
appointment to Paris? And if it were?

"I'll do what I can," she said graciously; "but I am afraid that will
not be much."

Miss Wynn hesitated. She had not succeeded even in guessing the source
of Mrs. Vanderpool's interest in Alwyn, and without that her appeal was
but blind groping. She stopped on her way to the door to admire a bronze
statuette and find time to think.

"You are interested in bronzes?" asked Mrs. Vanderpool.

"Oh, no; I'm far too poor. But I've dabbled a bit in sculpture."

"Indeed?" Mrs. Vanderpool revealed a mild interest, and Miss Wynn was
compelled to depart with little enlightenment.

On the way up town she concluded that there was but one chance of
success: she must write Alwyn's speech. With characteristic decision she
began her plans at once.

"What will you say in your speech?" she asked him that night as he rose
to go.

He looked at her and she wavered slightly under his black eyes. The
fight was becoming a little too desperate even for her steady nerves.

"You would not like me to act dishonestly, would you?" he asked.

"No," she involuntarily replied, regretting the word the moment she had
uttered it. He gave her one of his rare sweet smiles, and, rising,
before she realized his intent, he had kissed her hands and was gone.

She asked herself why she had been so foolish; and yet, somehow, sitting
there alone in the firelight, she felt glad for once that she had risen
above intrigue. Then she sighed and smiled, and began to plot anew.
Teerswell dropped in later and brought his friend, Stillings. T