take it, old chap? Do you know that you are a discredited and
defeated man? and yet I find you whistling like a boy. I have hopes
for you, Lewie. You have the Buoyant Heart, and with that nothing can
much matter. But, confound it! you are hours late for dinner."

CHAPTER XII

PASTORAL AND TRAGEDY

The news of the election, brought to Glenavelin by a couple of ragged
runners, had a different result from that forecast by Lewis. Alice
heard it with a heart unquickened; and when, an hour after, the flushed,
triumphant Mr. Stocks arrived in person to claim the meed of success,
he was greeted with a painful carelessness. Lady Manorwater had been
loud in her laments for her nephew, but to Mr. Stocks she gave the
honest praise which a warm-hearted woman cannot withhold from the
fighter.

"Our principles have won," she cried. "Now who will call the place a
Tory stronghold? Oh, Mr. Stocks, you have done wonderfully, and I am
very glad. I'm not a bit sorry for Lewis, for he well deserved his
beating."

But with Alice there could be neither pleasure nor its simulation. Her
terrible honesty forbade her the easy path of false congratulations.
She bit her lip till tears filled her eyes. What was this wretched
position into which she had strayed? Lewis was all she had feared, but
he was Lewis, and far more than any bundle of perfections. A hot,
passionate craving for his presence was blinding her to reason. And
this man who had won--this, the fortunate politician--she cared for him
not a straw. A strong dislike began to grow in her heart to the
blameless Mr. Stocks.

Dinner that night was a weary meal to the girl. Lady Manorwater
prattled about the day's events, and Lord Manorwater, hopelessly bored,
ate his food in silence. The lively Bertha had gone to bed with a
headache, and the younger Miss Afflint was the receptacle for the moment
of her hostess's confidences. Alice sat between Mr. Stocks and Arthur,
facing a tall man with a small head and immaculate hair who had ridden
over to dine and sleep. One of the two had the wisdom to see her humour
and keep silent, though the thought plunged him into a sea of ugly
reflections. It would be hard if, now that things were going well with
him, the lady alone should prove obdurate. For in all this politician's
daydreams a dainty figure walked by his side, sat at his table's head,
received his friends, fascinated austere ministers, and filled his pipe
of an evening at home.

Arth