to say.
Let us speak quietly to-night. It is better; and I am tired of strife,
spoken and unspoken. I have got beyond that. But I want to speak of what
you did to-day in Parliament."

"Well, you have said it was wicked and unpatriotic," he rejoined,
sitting down again and lighting a cigar, in an attempt to be composed.

"What you said was that; but I am concerned with what you did. Did your
speech mean that you would not press the Egyptian Government to relieve
Claridge Pasha at once?"

"Is that the conclusion you draw from my words?" he asked.

"Yes; but I wish to know beyond doubt if that is what you mean the
country to believe?"

"It is what I mean you to believe, my dear."

She shrank from the last two words, but still went on quietly, though
her eyes burned and she shivered. "If you mean that you will do nothing,
it will ruin you and your Government," she answered. "Kimber was right,
and--"

"Kimber was inspired from here," he interjected sharply.

She put her hand upon herself. "Do you think I would intrigue against
you? Do you think I would stoop to intrigue?" she asked, a hand clasping
and unclasping a bracelet on her wrist, her eyes averted, for very shame
that he should think the thought he had uttered.

"It came from this house--the influence," he rejoined.

"I cannot say. It is possible," she answered; "but you cannot think that
I connive with my maid against you. I think Kimber has reasons of his
own for acting as he did to-day. He speaks for many besides himself; and
he spoke patriotically this afternoon. He did his duty."

"And I did not? Do you think I act alone?"

"You did not do your duty, and I think that you are not alone
responsible. That is why I hope the Government will be influenced by
public feeling." She came a step nearer to him. "I ask you to relieve
Claridge Pasha at any cost. He is your father's son. If you do not, when
all the truth is known, you will find no shelter from the storm that
will break over you."

"You will tell--the truth?"

"I do not know yet what I shall do," she answered. "It will depend on
you; but it is your duty to tell the truth, not mine. That does not
concern me; but to save Claridge Pasha does concern me."

"So I have known."

Her heart panted for a moment with a wild indignation; but she quieted
herself, and answered almost calmly: "If you refuse to do that which
is honourable--and human, then I shall try to do it for you while yet
I bear your