more
convincing show of earnestness.

"What is she going to do?" asked the troubled little woman, her eyes
cast down.

Dyce told all that he knew of May's position. He was then questioned as
to the state of things political at Hollingford: his replies were at
once sanguine and disconsolate.

"Well," he said at length, "I have done my best, but fortune is against
me. In coming to see you, I discharged what I felt to be a duty. Let me
again thank you for your generous kindness. Now I must work, work--"

He stood an image of noble sadness, of magnanimity at issue with cruel
fate. Iris glanced timidly at him; her panting showed that she wished
to speak, but could not. He offered his hand; Iris took it, but only
for an instant.

"I want you to tell me something else," broke from her lips.

"I will tell you anything."

"Are you in love with that girl--Miss Tomalin?"

With sorrowful dignity, he shook his head; with proud
self-consciousness, he smiled.

"Nor with Miss Bride?"

"I think of her exactly as if she were a man."

"If I told you that I very much wished you to do something, would you
care to do it?"

"Your wish is for me a command," Dyce answered gently. "If it were not,
I should be grossly ungrateful."

"Then promise to go through with the election. Your expenses are
provided for. If you win, I am _sure_ some way can be found of
providing you with an income--I am _sure_ it can!"

"It shall be as you wish," said Lashmar, seeming to speak with a
resolute cheerfulness. "I will return to Hollingford by the first train
to-morrow."

They talked for a few minutes more. Lashmar mentioned where he was
going to pass the night. He promised to resume their long-interrupted
correspondence, and to let his friend have frequent reports from
Hollingford. Then they shook hands, and parted silently.

After dinner, Dyce strayed shorewards. He walked down to the little
harbour, and out on to the jetty. A clouded sky had brought night fast
upon sunset; green and red lamps shone from the lighthouse at the jetty
head, and the wash of the rising tide sounded in darkness on either
hand. Not many people had chosen this spot for their evening walk, but,
as he drew near to the lighthouse, he saw the figure of a woman against
the grey obscurity; she was watching a steamboat slowly making its way
through the harbour mouth. He advanced, and at the sound of his nearing
step the figure faced to him. There was just light enough t