il, who had just been
badgered by a deputation of voters who wished to discover his mind on
seven points of strictly non-practical politics, listened with idle
amusement.

"Dear girl," he said presently, "the old fellow is fooling you! You
can no more convert him than you could the Dalai-Lama to Christianity."

"But he speaks quite seriously, Denzil! He owns that he doesn't like
Beaconsfield, and"----

"Don't waste your time and your patience. It's folly, I assure you.
When you are gone he explodes with laughter."

Lilian gazed at him for a moment with wide eyes, then burst into tears.

"Good heavens! what is the matter with you, Lily?" cried Denzil,
jumping up. "Come, come, this kind of thing won't do! You are
overtaxing yourself. You are getting morbidly excited."

It was true enough, and Lilian was herself conscious of it, but she
obeyed an impulse from which there seemed no way of escape. Her
conscience and her fears would not leave her at peace; every now and
then she found herself starting at unusual sounds, trembling in mental
agitation if any one approached her with an unwonted look, dreading the
arrival of the post, the sight of a newspaper, faces in the street.
Then she hastened to the excitement of canvassing, as another might
have turned to more vulgar stimulants. Certainly her health had
suffered. She could not engage in quiet study, still less could rest
her mind in solitary musing, as in the old days.

Denzil seated himself by her on the sofa.

"If you are to suffer in this way, little girl, I shall repent sorely
that ever I went in for politics."

"How absurd of me! I can't think why I behave so ridiculously!"

But still she sobbed, resting her head against him.

"I have an idea," he said at length, rendered clairvoyant by his
affection, "that after next week you will feel much easier in your
mind."

"After next week?"

"Yes; when Glazzard is married and gone away."

She would not confess that he was right, but her denials strengthened
his surmise.

"I can perfectly understand it, Lily. It certainly was unfortunate; and
if it had been any one but Glazzard, I might myself have been wishing
the man away. But you know as well as I do that Glazzard would not
breathe a syllable."

"Not even to his wife?" she whispered.

"Not even to her! I assure you"--he smiled--"men have no difficulty in
keeping important secrets, Samson notwithstanding. Glazzard would think
himself for ever dishonour