yon read Byron set Felix off on a tirade
against the poet, and his works, and throughout the meal no agreement on
any topic seemed possible between Esther and the guest.

Felix noted that Mr. Lyon was devoted to his daughter and stood in some
fear of her.

"That is a singular young man, Esther," said the minister, when Felix
had gone. "I discern in him a love for whatever things are honest and
true, and I feel a great enlargement in his presence."

"I think he is very coarse and rude," said Esther, with a touch of
temper. "But he speaks better English than most of our visitors. What is
his occupation?"

"Watch and clock making, my dear."

Esther was disappointed, she thought he was something higher than that.

Felix on his side wondered how the queer old minister had a daughter so
little in his own likeness. He decided that nothing should make him
marry.

_II.--The Election Riot_

The return of Mr. Harold Transome, to Transome Court, after fifteen
years' absence, and his adoption as Radical Candidate for the county
created no little stir and excitement in Treby. It also assisted the
growing intimacy between Mr. Lyon and Felix Holt, for though neither
possessed votes in that memorable year 1832, they shared the same
liberal sympathies. Perhaps the most delightful friendships are those in
which there is much agreement, much disputation, and yet more personal
liking; and the advent of the public-spirited, contradictory, yet
affectionate Felix, into Treby life had made a welcome epoch to the
minister.

Esther had not seen so much of their new acquaintance as her father had.
But she had begun to find him amusing, though he always opposed and
criticised her, and looked at her as if he never saw a single detail
about her person. It seemed to Esther that he thought slightly of her.
"But, rude and queer as he is, I cannot say there is anything vulgar
about him," she said to herself.

One Sunday afternoon Felix Holt rapped at the door of Mr. Lyon's house,
although he could hear the voice of the minister in the chapel.

Esther was in the kitchen alone, reading a French romance, and she
opened the door and invited him in.

He scoffed at her book, and as the talk went on, upbraided her for her
vanity. Finally he told her that he wanted her to change. "Of course, I
am a brute to say so," he added. "I ought to say you are perfect.
Another man would, perhaps; I can't bear to see you going the way of the
foolish wome