And yet--and yet--there glimmered another aspect of the matter. Suppose Miss Tomalin followed her aunt's example, and saw in him a coming man, and seriously interested herself in his fortunes? Then, indeed, she would be by no means a superfluous young person; for who could say to what such interest might lead? Miss Tomalin would be her aunt's heiress, or so one might reasonably suppose. And she was a very pretty girl, as well as intelligent.

Could it be that the real course of his destiny was only just beginning to reveal itself?

By this time, he felt better. To pa.s.s an hour, he went into his club, read the papers, and looked, vainly, for Lord Dymchurch.

Greatly to his surprise, he found the world-shunning n.o.bleman in Mrs.

Toplady's drawing-room; the hostess and he alone together--it was early--and seeming to have been engaged in rather intimate talk.

"Oh, this is nice!" exclaimed Mrs. Toplady. "What have you to tell us?"

"Little of interest, I'm afraid--except that I have lunched to-day with Lady Ogram and made the acquaintance of her niece."

"We were speaking of her," said the hostess, with very p.r.o.nounced mischief at the corner of her lips, and eyes excessively gracious.

"You know Miss Tomalin?" Lashmar inquired, rather abruptly, of Lord Dymchurch.

"I have met her once," was the colourless reply.

Dyce wished to ask where and when, but of course could not. He resented this advantage of Lord Dymchurch.

"She is very clever," the hostess was saying, "and quite charming. A Canadian, you know, by birth. Such a fresh way of looking at things; so bright and--"

Other callers were announced. Lord Dymchurch looked his desire to escape, but sat on. You would have thought him a man with a troubled conscience.

CHAPTER XIII

A few days later, Lashmar found on his breakfast table a copy of the _Hollingford Express_, blue-pencilled at an editorial paragraph which he read with interest. The leaded lines announced that Hollingford Liberalism was at length waking up, that a campaign was being quietly but vigorously organised, and that a meeting of active politicians would shortly be held for the purpose of confirming a candidature which had already met with approval in influential circles. The same post brought a letter from Mr. Breakspeare, "Will you," asked the editor, "name a convenient date for meeting your friends and supporters? Say, about the 20th of this month. I am working up enthusiasm. We shall take the public room at the Saracen's Head. Admission to be by invitation card. I write to Lady Ogram, and no doubt you will consult with her."

This looked like business. Dyce reflected rather nervously that he would have to make a speech--a practical speech; he must define his political att.i.tude; philosophical generalities would not serve in the public room at the Saracen's Head. Well, he had a fortnight to think about it. And here was an excuse for calling on Lady Ogram, of which he would avail himself at once.

In the afternoon he went to Bunting's Hotel, but Lady Ogram was not at home. He inquired for Miss Bride, and was presently led up to the private drawing-room, where Constance sat writing. As they shook hands, their eyes scarcely met.

"Can you spare me a few minutes?" asked the visitor. "There's something here I wanted to show Lady Ogram; but I shall be still more glad to talk it over with you."

Constance took the newspaper and Breakspeare's note. As she read, her firm-set lips relaxed a little. She handed the papers back with a nod.

"Has Lady Ogram heard?" Dyce asked.

"Yes; she had a letter this morning, and I have answered it. She was pleased So far, so good. You have had Mrs. Toplady's card for the evening of the 13th?"

"I have."

"One of the Liberal whips will be there--an opportunity for you."

Every time he saw her, Constance seemed to be drier and more laconic.

Their intercourse promised to ill.u.s.trate to the full his professed ideal of relation between man and woman in friendship; every note of difference in s.e.x would soon be eliminated, if indeed that point were not already attained.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Miss Bride, carelessly; for Dyce had thrown hat and stick aside, and was moving about with his hands in his pockets.

"But you're busy."

"Not particularly."

"How is our friend?"

"Lady Ogram? Pretty well, I think, but overtaxing herself. I don't think she'll be able to stay here long. It certainly wouldn't be wise."

"Of course it's on her niece's account. By the bye--" Dyce paused before Constance's chair--"where has this niece sprung from? You told me she hadn't a relative in the world."

"So she believed. Miss Tomalin is a recent discovery--the fruit of Mr.

Kerchever's researches."

"Ah! That's rather amusing. Lucky, I imagine, that she is such a presentable person. She might have been--"

He checked himself significantly, and Constance allowed an absent smile to pa.s.s over her face.

"I'm afraid," Dyce continued, "this change won't be quite pleasant to you?"

"To me? It makes no difference--none whatever. Will you please sit down? I dislike to talk with anyone who keeps fidgeting about."

One might have detected more than discomfort in Miss Bride's look and voice. A sudden flash of something very like anger shone in her eyes; but they were bent and veiled.

"Let us talk about Hollingford," said Lashmar, drawing up a chair. "It begins to look as if things were really in train. Of course, I shall go down to talk to them. Will you help me in putting my programme together?"

"Isn't that already done?"

"Why, no. What do I care about their party questions? I'm sure your advice would be valuable. Could you find time to jot down a few ideas?"

"If you think it any use, certainly. I can't promise to do it this evening; we have people to dine."

Lashmar was secretly offended that Lady Ogram should give a dinner-party in which he had no place.

"Anyone coming that I know?" he asked, off-hand.

"Let me see. Yes, there's Mrs. Toplady--and Lord Dymchurch--"

Dyce exclaimed:

"What an extraordinary thing! Dymchurch, who never went anywhere, seems all at once to be living in the thick of the world. The other day, I found him at Mrs. Toplady's, drinking tea. Was it there he came to know Lady Ogram?"

"Yes." Constance smiled. "Lady Ogram, you remember, much wished to meet him."

"And he dines here? I can't understand it."