“This is no such important affair that you must go at all costs,” he said, regarding her anxiously.  “Say you feel unable, and I’ll send a message at once.”

Already she had assured him that it would disappoint her greatly not to go.  Lilian meant, of course, that she could not bear to disappoint him, and to make confusion in their hostess’s arrangements.  There was a weight upon her heart which made it a great effort even to move, to speak; but she hoped to find strength when the time came.

“You are quite sure that he has gone, Denzil—­gone for good?”

“I am perfectly sure of it.  You needn’t have another moment’s fear.”

He tried to believe it.  By this time, if he had kept his promise, Northway was in London.  But what faith was to be put in such a man’s declarations?  It might be that the secret was already known to other people; between now and polling-day there might come the crowning catastrophe.  Yet the man’s interest seemed to impose silence upon him, and for Lilian’s sake it was necessary to affect absolute confidence.

They went to the dinner, and the evening passed without accident.  Lilian was universally admired; pallor heightened her beauty, and the assurance of outlived danger which Denzil had succeeded in imparting gave to her conversation a life and glow that excited interest in all who spoke with her.

“Mr. Quarrier,” said the hostess, playfully, in an aside, “if you were defeated at Polterham, I don’t think you ought to care much.  You have already been elected by such a charming constituency!”

But there followed a night of sleeplessness.  If exhaustion pressed down her eyelids for a moment, some image of dread flashed upon her brain and caused her to start up with a cry.  Himself worn out and suffering a reaction of despondency, Quarrier more than once repented what he had done.  In Lilian’s state of health such a shock as this might have results that would endanger her life.  She had not a strong constitution; he recalled the illness of a year ago, and grew so anxious that his fits of slumber gave him no refreshment, In the early dawn, finding that she was awake, he spoke to her of the necessity of avoiding excitement during the next few days.

“I wish you could go away till the affair is over.”

“Oh, there is no need of that!  I couldn’t be away from you.”

“Then at all events keep quietly at home.  There’ll be the deuce of an uproar everywhere to-day.”

“We shall lunch at Mary’s, you know.  I had rather be there than sitting alone.”

“Well, Molly will be good company for yell, I dare say.  But do try not to excite yourself.  Don’t talk much; we’ll tell them you are very tired after last night.  As soon as ever the fight is done, we’ll be off somewhere or other for a few weeks.  Don’t get up till midday; anything interesting you shall know at once.”

At breakfast Denzil received a note from Mrs. Wade, sent by hand.  “Do let me know how Lilian is.  The messenger will wait for a reply.”  He wrote an answer of warm friendliness, signing it, “Ever sincerely yours.”  Mrs. Wade had impressed him with her devotion; he thought of her with gratitude and limitless confidence.