ecome the faineant husband of a
rich opera singer. "And yet you would ask me to become the faineante
wife of a wealthy landowner. And because, under the stress of the
times, you are not wealthy you choose to reject the girl altogether
who has given you her heart. Go away. You are no good. When a man
stands up on his hind legs and pretends to be proud he never is any
good."

Then Mr. O'Mahony came in and had a political discussion with Frank
Jones. "Yes," said the Member of Parliament, "I mean to put my
shoulder to the wheel, and do the very best that can be done. I
cannot believe but what a man in earnest will find out the truth.
Politics are not such a hopeless muddle but what some gleam of light
may be made to shine through."

"There are such things as leaders," said Frank.

Then Mr. O'Mahony stood up and laid his hand upon his heart. "You
remember what Van Artevelde said--'They shall murder me ere make me
go the way that is not my way, for an inch.' I say the same."

"What will Mr. Parnell do with such a follower?"

"Mr. Parnell is also an honest man," cried Mr. O'Mahony. "Two honest
men looking for light together will never fall out. I at any rate
have some little gift of utterance. Perhaps I can persuade a man, or
two men. At any rate I will try."

"But how are we to get back to London, father?" said Rachel. "I don't
think it becomes an honest Member of Parliament to take money out of
a common fund. You will have to remain here in pawn till I go and
sing you out." But Rachel had enough left of Lord Castlewell's money
to carry them back to London, on condition that they did not stop on
the road, and to this condition she was forced to bring her father.

Early on the following morning before they started the news reached
Cavan of poor Florian's death. "Oh God! My brother!" exclaimed Frank;
but it was all that he did say. He was a man who like his father
had become embittered by the circumstances of the times. Mr. Jones
had bought his property, now thirty years since, with what was then
called a parliamentary title. He had paid hard money for it, and had
induced his friends to lend their money to assist the purchase, for
which he was responsible. Much of the land he had been enabled to
keep in his own hands, but on none of the tenants' had he raised
the rent. Now there had come forth a law, not from the hand of the
Landleaguers, but from the Government, who, it was believed, would
protect those who did their