And when the noble baronet in the chair--to her eye, a pompous, frock-coated stick, sacrificing his after-dinner sleep for once, that he might the more effectually secure it in the future--proposed a vote of confidence in the Conservative candidate; when the vote was carried with much cheering and rattling of feet; when the Primrose Dames on the platform smiled graciously down upon the meeting as one smiles at good children in their moments of pretty behaviour; and when, finally, scores of toil-stained labourers, young and old, went up to have a word and a hand-shake with "Muster Raeburn," Marcella held herself aloof and cold, with a look that threatened sarcasm should she be spoken to.

Miss Raeburn, glancing furtively round at her, was outraged anew by her expression.
"She will be a thorn in all our sides," thought that lady.

"Aldous is a fool!--a poor dear noble misguided fool!" Then on the way home, she and Aldous drove together.

Marcella tried to argue, grew vehement, and said bitter things for the sake of victory, till at last Aldous, tired, worried, and deeply wounded, could bear it no longer.
"Let it be, dear, let it be!" he entreated, snatching at her hand as they rolled along through a stormy night.

"We grope in a dark world--you see some points of light in it, I see others--won't you give me credit for doing what I can--seeing what I can?
I am sure--_sure_--you will find it easier to bear with differences when we are quite together--when there are no longer all these hateful duties and engagements--and persons--between us." "Persons! I don't know what you mean!" said Marcella.
Aldous only just restrained himself in time.