Queer fellow, Marsham!—­rather a fool, too.  Why the deuce didn’t he stick to it?  Lady Lucy would have come round; he would have gained enormous kudos, and lost nothing.  Bobbie looked admiringly at his companion, vowing to himself that she was worth fighting for.  But his own heart was proof.  For three months he had been engaged, sub rosa, to a penniless cousin.  No one knew, least of all Lady Niton, who, in spite of her championship of Diana, would probably be furious when she did know.  He found himself pining to tell Diana; he would tell her as soon as ever he got an opportunity.  Odd!—­that the effect of having gone through a lot yourself should be that other people were strongly drawn to unload their troubles upon you.  Bobbie felt himself a selfish beast; but all the same his “Ettie” and his debts; the pros and cons of the various schemes for his future, in which he had hitherto allowed Lady Niton to play so queer and tyrannical a part—­all these burned on his tongue till he could confide them to Diana.

Meanwhile the talk strayed to Ferrier and politics—­dangerous ground!  Yet some secret impulse in Diana drew her toward it, and Bobbie’s curiosity played up.  Diana spoke with concern of the great man’s pallor and fatigue.  “Not to be wondered at,” said Forbes, “considering the tight place he was in, or would soon be in.”  Diana asked for explanations, acting a part a little; for since her acquaintance with Oliver Marsham she had become a diligent reader of newspapers.  Bobbie, divining her, gave her the latest and most authentic gossip of the clubs; as to the various incidents and gradations of the now open revolt of the Left Wing; the current estimates of Ferrier’s strength in the country; and the prospects of the coming election.

Presently he even ventured on Marsham’s name, feeling instinctively that she waited for it.  If there was any change in the face beside him the May darkness concealed it, and Bobbie chattered on.  There was no doubt that Marsham was in a difficulty.  All his sympathies at least were with the rebels, and their victory would be his profit.

“Yet as every one knows that Marsham is under great obligations to Ferrier, for him to join the conspiracy these fellows are hatching doesn’t look pretty.”

“He won’t join it!” said Diana, sharply.

“Well, a good many people think he’s in it already.  Oh, I dare say it’s all rot!” the speaker added, hastily; “and, besides, it’s not at all certain that Marsham himself will get in next time.”

“Get in!” It was a cry of astonishment—­passing on into constraint.  “I thought Mr. Marsham’s seat was absolutely safe.”

“Not it.”  Bobbie began to flounder.  “The fact is it’s not safe at all; it’s uncommonly shaky.  He’ll have a squeak for it.  They’re not so sweet on him down there as they used to be.”

Gracious!—­if she were to ask why!  The young man was about hastily to change the subject when Sir James and his companion came toward them.