of shaken health excused him to his
constituents, many of whom favoured him with their unsolicited
correspondence. (He had three or four long letters from Mr. Chown, who
thought it necessary to keep the borough member posted in the course of
English politics.) From Glazzard he heard twice, with cheerful news.
"How it happened," he had written to his newly-married friend, in
telling of Lilian's death, "I will explain some day; I cannot speak of
it yet." Glazzard's response was full of manly sympathy. "I don't
pretend," wrote the connoisseur, "that I am ideally mated, but my wife
is a good girl, and I understand enough of happiness in marriage to
appreciate to the full how terrible is your loss. Let confidences be
for the future; if they do not come naturally, be assured I shall never
pain you by a question."

Denzil's book had now been for several weeks before the public; it
would evidently excite little attention. "A capital present for a
schoolboy," was one of the best things the critics had yet found to say
of it. He suffered disappointment, but did not seriously resent the
world's indifference. Honestly speaking, was the book worth much? The
writing had at first amused him; in the end it had grown a task.
Literature was not his field.

Back, then, to politics! There he knew his force. He was looking to the
first taste of Parliament with decided eagerness.

In Madeira he chanced to make acquaintance with an oldish man who had
been in Parliament for a good many years; a Radical, an idealist, sore
beset with physical ailments. This gentleman found pleasure in Denzil's
society, talked politics to him with contagious fervour, and greatly
aided the natural process whereby Quarrier was recovering his interest
in the career before him.

"My misfortune is," Denzil one day confided to this friend, "that I
detest the town and the people that have elected me."

"Indeed?" returned the other, with a laugh. "Then lay yourself out to
become my successor at----when a general election comes round again. I
hope to live out this Parliament, but sha'n't try for another."

About the same time he had a letter from Mrs. Wade, now in London,
wherein, oddly enough, was a passage running thus:

"You say that the thought of representing Polterham spoils your
pleasure in looking forward to a political life. Statesmen (and you
will become one) have to be trained to bear many disagreeable things.
But you are not bound to Polterham for eve