It was September when Phineas found himself back at Killaloe, and he was due to be at his office in London in November.  The excitement of Mr. Monk’s company was now over, and he had nothing to do but to receive pouches full of official papers from the Colonial Office, and study all the statistics which came within his reach in reference to the proposed new law for tenant-right.  In the meantime Mary was still living with her mother at Killaloe, and still kept herself somewhat aloof from the man she loved.  How could it be possible for him not to give way in such circumstances as those?

One day he found himself talking to her about himself, and speaking to her of his own position with more frankness than he ever used with his own family.  He had begun by reminding her of that conversation which they had had before he went away with Mr. Monk, and by reminding her also that she had promised to return to her old friendly ways with him.

“Nay, Phineas; there was no promise,” she said.

“And are we not to be friends?”

“I only say that I made no particular promise.  Of course we are friends.  We have always been friends.”

“What would you say if you heard that I had resigned my office and given up my seat?” he asked.  Of course she expressed her surprise, almost her horror, at such an idea, and then he told her everything.  It took long in the telling, because it was necessary that he should explain to her the working of the system which made it impossible for him, as a member of the Government, to entertain an opinion of his own.

“And do you mean that you would lose your salary?” she asked.

“Certainly I should.”

“Would not that be very dreadful?”

He laughed as he acknowledged that it would be dreadful.  “It is very dreadful, Mary, to have nothing to eat and drink.  But what is a man to do?  Would you recommend me to say that black is white?”

“I am sure you will never do that.”

“You see, Mary, it is very nice to be called by a big name and to have a salary, and it is very comfortable to be envied by one’s friends and enemies;—­but there are drawbacks.  There is this especial drawback.”  Then he paused for a moment before he went on.

“What especial drawback, Phineas?”

“A man cannot do what he pleases with himself.  How can a man marry, so circumstanced as I am?”

She hesitated for a moment, and then she answered him,—­“A man may be very happy without marrying, I suppose.”

He also paused for many moments before he spoke again, and she then made a faint attempt to escape from him.  But before she succeeded he had asked her a question which arrested her.  “I wonder whether you would listen to me if I were to tell you a history?” Of course she listened, and the history he told her was the tale of his love for Violet Effingham.

“And she has money of her own?” Mary asked.