he whole question." It was _not_ the
whole question, even granting that love had spoken plainly; and Lilian
understood very well that it is possible for a girl to contemplate
wedlock without passionate feeling such as could obscure her judgment.

They talked with much intimacy, much reciprocal good-will, and Serena
took her leave with a comparatively cheerful mind. She had resolved
what to do.

And the opportunity for action came that afternoon. Glazzard called
upon her. He looked rather gloomy, but smiled in reply to the smile she
gave him.

"Have you read Mr. Gladstone's address to the electors of Midlothian?"
Serena began by asking, with a roguish look.

"Pooh! What is such stuff to me?"

"I knew I should tease you. What do you think of Mr. Quarrier's
chances?"

"Oh, he will be elected, no doubt."

Glazzard spoke absently, his eyes on Serena's face, but seemingly not
conscious of her expression.

"I hope he will," she rejoined.

"What!--you hope so?"

"Yes, I do. I am convinced he is the right man. I agree with his
principles. Henceforth I am a Radical."

Glazzard laughed mockingly, and Serena joined, but not in the same tone.

"I like him," she pursued, with a certain odd persistence. "If I could
do it decently, I would canvass for him. He is a manly man and means
what he says. I like his wife, too--she is very sweet."

He glanced at her and pursed his lips.

"I am sure," added Serena, "you like me to praise such good friends of
yours?"

"Certainly."

They were in the room where the grand piano stood, for Mrs. Mumbray had
gone to pass the day with friends at a distance. Serena said of a
sudden:

"Will you please play me something--some serious piece--one of the best
you know?"

"You mean it?"

"I do. I want to hear you play a really noble piece. You won't refuse."

He eyed her in a puzzled way, but smiled, and sat down to the
instrument. His choice was from Beethoven. As he played, Serena stood
in an attitude of profound attention. When the music ceased, she went
up to him and held out her hand.

"Thank you, Eustace. I don't think many people can play like that."

"No; not very many," he replied quietly, and thereupon kissed her
fingers.

He went to the window and looked out into the chill, damp garden.

"Serena, have you any idea what Sicily is like at this time of year?"

"A faint imagination. Very lovely, no doubt."

"I want to go there."

"Do you?" she answered, carelessly,