Two vehicles came up to the door—­in one the luggage was despatched to the station; the other carried the bridegroom and his niece into Polterham.

Quarrier awaited them on his threshold, watch in hand, for he had no time to lose on the eve of nomination day.

“Come in!” he cried, joyously.  “Such weather as this is a good omen.  How do you do, Miss Glazzard?  Here is Lilian all excitement to see you; she would give her little finger to go to the wedding.”

They entered the house.

“Decidedly,” said Denzil, turning to Lilian, “his appearance is a compliment to Miss Mumbray.  When did you see him looking so well and animated?”

Lilian coloured, and tried to speak in the same tone, but it was with difficulty that she used her voice at all.  Glazzard’s departure from Polterham promised her such relief of mind that she could not face him without a sense of shame.

“Telegraph the result, if it is favourable,” said Glazzard.  “You shall have an address in time for that.”

“If it is favourable?  Why, my dear fellow, we shall poll two to one, at the lowest computation!  I’ve half lost my pleasure in the fight; I feel ashamed to hit out with all my strength when I make a speech —­it’s like pounding an invalid!”

“Then I congratulate you in advance, Mrs. Quarrier.  If we are long away from England, the chances arc I shall have to make my next call upon you in Downing Street!”

“Some day, old boy—­some day!” assented Denzil, with a superb smile.

There followed much handshaking, and the visitors returned to their carriage.  As it moved away, Glazzard put his head out of the window, waved his hand, and cried merrily: 

“Quarrier for ever!”

CHAPTER XX

In the interviews with Mr. Marks, Arthur Northway did not show at his best.  Whoever that scheming personage might be, his knowledge and his air of condescension oppressed the needy young man, made him conscious of a hang-dog look, and a helpless promptitude to sell himself for a few coins.  It was not thus that Northway, even after his unpleasant experiences, viewed himself in relation to the world.  He had decidedly more intellect than is often found in commercial clerks—­the class to which he belonged by birth and breeding—­ and in spite of checks he believed himself destined to no common career.  Long musing had taught him the rashness of his youthful endeavours to live largely; he was now aware that his talents must ally themselves with patience, with a careful scrutiny of possibilities.