the astonished
delight of his friends, and with enthusiastic applause from the mass of
his hearers. Such eloquence had never been heard in Polterham. If
anything, he allowed himself too much scope in vituperation, but it was
a fault on the right side. The only circumstance that troubled him was
when his eye fell upon Lilian, and he saw her crying with excitement; a
fear passed through his mind that she might be overwrought and fall
into hysterics, or faint. The occasion proved indeed too much for her;
that night she did not close her eyes, and the next day saw her
prostrate in nervous exhaustion. But she seemed to pick up her strength
again very quickly, and was soon hard at work canvassing among the
electors' wives.

"Don't overdo it," Denzil cautioned her. "Remember, if you are ill, I
shall mope by your bedside."

"I can't stop now that I have begun," was her reply. "If I try to sit
idle, I _shall_ be ill."

She could read nothing but newspapers; her piano was silent; she talked
politics, and politics only. Never was seen such a change in woman,
declared her intimates; yet, in spite of probabilities, they thought
her more charming than ever. No word of animosity ever fell from her
lips; what inspired her was simple ardour for Denzil's cause, and, as
she considered it, that of the oppressed multitude. In her way, said
Toby Liversedge, she was as eloquent as Quarrier himself, and sundry
other people were of the same opinion.

CHAPTER XVI

With sullen acquiescence the supporters of Mr. Mumbray and "Progressive
Conservatism"--what phrase is not good enough for the lips of
party?--recognized that they must needs vote for the old name.
Dissension at such a moment was more dangerous than an imbecile
candidate. Mr. Sam Quarrier had declared that rather than give his
voice for Mumbray he would remain neutral. "Old W.-B. is good enough
for a figure-head; he signifies something. If we are to be beaten, let
it be on the old ground." That defeat was likely enough, the more
intelligent Conservatives could not help seeing. Many of them (Samuel
among the number) had no enthusiasm for Beaconsfield, and _la haute
politique_ as the leader understood it, but they liked still less the
principles represented by Councillor Chown and his vociferous regiment.
So the familiar bills were once more posted about the streets, and once
more the Tory canvassers urged men to vote for Welwyn-Baker in the name
of Church and State.

At