‘Beatrice,’ he began, ’there’s a subject I have avoided speaking of, thinking you might perhaps be the first to mention it.  Do you wish to continue your singing?’

She smiled, and did not seem to attach great importance to the question.

‘It is for you to decide,’ she answered.  ’You know why I began it; I am ready to say my farewell whenever you bid me.’

’But what is your own feeling?  I suppose you would in any case cease at our marriage?’

‘You are not ashamed of it?’

‘It is true,’ he replied humorously, ’that I am a member of the British House of Commons, but I beg you won’t think too meanly of me.  I protest that I have still something of my old self.’

‘That means you are rather proud than ashamed.  How’ long,’ she went on to ask, lowering her eyes, ’is the British House of Commons likely to sit?’

‘Probably the talk will hold out for some seven or eight weeks longer.’

’May I sing the two remaining engagements, if I take no more after those?’

‘To be sure, you must.  Let it stand so, then.’

She fell back into her brooding.

‘Now I, too, have something to ask,’ she said, after a short silence.

‘Whatever you ask is already granted.’

‘Don’t be too hasty.  It’s more than you think.’

‘Well?’

’I want you to give me some work to do for you—­to let me come and sit with you in your study some mornings and ‘write things for you.’

Wilfrid laughed cheerily.

‘If I had a regard for my dignity,’ he said, ’I certainly shouldn’t let you.  What will become of my pretence of work when you are let into the secrets?  But come, by all means.  You shall digest a blue-book for me.’

‘When?  To-morrow morning?’

‘If you will.’

Beatrice was satisfied.

CHAPTER XXI

DANGEROUS RELICS

‘Beatrice is coming to act as my secretary this morning,’ Wilfrid said to his father, as they sat at breakfast on Monday.

‘Is she?’ remarked Mr. Athel, drily.  ’It had struck me that you were not very busy just now,’ he added, by way of natural comment.

The junior smiled.

‘By the way, she has only two more engagements—­then it ceases.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ said his father, with much satisfaction.

‘After all,’ observed Wilfrid, ’you must remember that everyone knows she doesn’t sing for a living.  Art, you know, is only contemptible when it supports the artist.’

’Well, well, file your epigrams by all means; but we live in the world, Wilf.  Criticise as smartly as you like; the danger only begins when you act upon your convictions.’

At half-past ten Beatrice arrived.  She came into the study with a morning colour on her cheeks, threw off her mantle and hat, and let Wilfrid draw off her gloves, which somehow took a long time in the doing.  She was full of bright, happy talk, most of it tending to show that she had already given the attention to the morning’s ‘leaders’ which was becoming in a politician’s betrothed.