“You have your cousin with you?”

“Yes.”

“She will make you a long visit?”

“Another week or two, I think.”

“You are a believer in family traditions?—­But of course you are!”

“Why ’of course’?” Her color had sparkled again, but the laugh was not spontaneous.

“I see that you are in love with even your furthest kinsmen—­you must be—­being an Imperialist!  Now I am frankly bored by my kinsmen—­near and far.”

“All the same—­you ask their help!”

“Oh yes, in war; pure self-interest on both sides.”

“You have been preaching this in the House of Commons?”

The teasing had answered.  No more veiling of the eyes!

“No—­I have made no speeches.  Next week, in the Vote of Censure debate, I shall get my chance.”

“To talk Little Englandism?  Alack!”

The tone was soft—­it ended in a sigh.

“Does it really trouble you?”

She was looking down at her work.  Her fingers drew the silk out and in—­a little at random.  She shook her head slightly, without reply.

“I believe it does,” he said, gently, still smiling.  “Well, when I make my speech, I shall remember that.”

She looked up suddenly.  Their eyes met full.  On her just parted lips the words she had meant to say remained unspoken.  Then a murmur of voices from the garden reached them, as though some one approached.  Marsham rose.

“Shall we go into the garden?  I ought to speak to Robins.  How is he getting on?”

Robins was the new head gardener, appointed on Marsham’s recommendation.

“Excellently.”  Diana had also risen.  “I will get my hat.”

He opened the door for her.  Hang those people outside!  But for them she would have been already in his arms.

Left to himself, he walked to and fro, restless and smiling.  No more self-repression—­no more politic delay!  The great moment of life—­grasped—­captured at last!  He in his turn understood the Faust-cry—­“Linger awhile!—­thou art so fair!” Only let him pierce to the heart of it—­realize it, covetously, to the full!  All the ordinary worldly motives were placated and at rest; due sacrifice had been done to them; they teased no more.  Upgathered and rolled away, like storm-winds from the sea, they had left a shining and a festal wave for love to venture on.  Let him only yield himself—­feel the full swell of the divine force!

He moved to the window, and looked out.

Birch!—­What on earth brought that creature to Beechcote.  His astonishment was great, and perhaps in the depths of his mind there emerged the half-amused perception of a feminine softness and tolerance which masculine judgment must correct.  She did not know how precious she was; and that it must not be made too easy for the common world to approach her.  All that was picturesque and important, of course, in the lower classes; labor men, Socialists,