his tone.

"You have my name. You may say I have no right to it, but it is the only
name I can carry; they both are dead, and I must keep it. It wrongs no
one living but you, and you have no hatred of me: you think I do not
wrong you--isn't that so?"

His cheek was hot with feeling. "Yes, that's true," he said. "You must
still keep your married name." Then a great melancholy took hold of him,
and he could hardly hide it from her. She saw how he was moved, and she
tried to comfort him.

"You think Junia will resent it all?... But that isn't what a girl does
when she loves. You have done no wrong; your hands are clean."

"But I must tell her all. Tarboe is richer, he has an honest birth, he
is a big man and will be bigger still. She likes him, she--"

"She will go to you without a penny, my son."

"It will be almost without a penny, if you don't live," he said with a
faint smile. "I can't paint--for a time anyhow. I can't earn money for
a time. I've only my salary as a Member of Parliament and the little
that's left of my legacy; therefore, I must draw on you. And I don't
seem to mind drawing upon you; I never did."

She smiled with an effort. "If I can help you, I shall justify living
on."

CHAPTER XXX. TARBOE HAS A DREAM

The day Carnac was elected it was clear to Tarboe that he must win Junia
at once, if he was ever to do so, for Carnac's new honours would play
a great part in influencing her. In his mind, it was now or never for
himself; he must bring affairs to a crisis.

Junia's father was poor, but the girl had given their home an air of
comfort and an art belonging to larger spheres. The walls were covered
with brown paper, and on it were a few of her own water-colour drawings,
and a few old engravings of merit. Chintz was the cover on windows and
easy chairs, and in a corner of the parlour was a chintz-covered lounge
where she read of an evening. So it was that, with Carnac elected and
Barode Barouche buried, she sat with one of Disraeli's novels in her
hand busy with the future. She saw for Carnac a safe career, for his
two chief foes were gone--Luzanne Larue and Barode Barouche. Now she
understood why Carnac had never asked her to be his wife. She had had no
word with Carnac since his election--only a letter to thank her for the
marriage certificate and to say that after M. Barouche was buried he
would come to her, if he might. He did say, however, in the letter that
he owed her his election.