buse of Lucy, were proofs to him of her love.
Unless she loved him, why should she care to marry him? What was his
position that she should desire to share it;--unless she so desired
because he was dearer to her than aught beside? He had not eyes
clear enough to perceive that his cousin was a witch whistling for a
wind, and ready to take the first blast that would carry her and her
broomstick somewhere into the sky. And then, in that matter of the
offer, which in ordinary circumstances certainly should not have
come from her to him, did not the fact of her wealth and of his
comparative poverty cleanse her from such stain as would, in usual
circumstances, attach to a woman who is so forward? He had not
acceded to her proposition. He had not denied his engagement to Lucy.
He had left her presence without a word of encouragement, because
of that engagement. But he believed that Lizzie was sincere. He
believed, now, that she was genuine; though he had previously been
all but sure that falsehood and artifice were second nature to her.

At Bobsborough he met his constituents, and made them the normal
autumn speech. The men of Bobsborough were well pleased and gave him
a vote of confidence. As none but those of his own party attended
the meeting, it was not wonderful that the vote was unanimous. His
father, mother, and sister all heard his speech, and there was a
strong family feeling that Frank was born to set the Greystocks once
more upon their legs. When a man can say what he likes with the
certainty that every word will be reported, and can speak to those
around him as one manifestly their superior, he always looms large.
When the Conservatives should return to their proper place at the
head of affairs, there could be no doubt that Frank Greystock would
be made Solicitor-General. There were not wanting even ardent
admirers who conceived that, with such claims and such talents as
his, the ordinary steps in political promotion would not be needed,
and that he would become Attorney-General at once. All men began to
say all good things to the dean, and to Mrs. Greystock it seemed
that the woolsack, or at least the Queen's Bench with a peerage, was
hardly an uncertainty. But then,--there must be no marriage with a
penniless governess. If he would only marry his cousin one might say
that the woolsack was won.

Then came Lucy's letter; the pretty, dear, joking letter about
the "duchess," and broken hearts. "I would break my hea