that satisfied us both—­satisfied us better than when we were opposed by Whigs—­that is, the Liberal reigned, and we governed:  and I should add, a very clever juggler was our common chief.  Now we have the consequences of hollow peacemaking, in a suffrage that bids fair to extend to the wearing of hats and boots for a qualification.  The moral of it seems to be that cowardice is even worse for nations than for individual men, though the consequences come on us more slowly.’

‘You spoke of party sins,’ Miss Halkett said incredulously.

‘I shall think we are the redoubtable party when we admit the charge.’

‘Are you alluding to the landowners?’

’Like the land itself, they have rich veins in heavy matter.  For instance, the increasing wealth of the country is largely recruiting our ranks; and we shall be tempted to mistake numbers for strength, and perhaps again be reading Conservatism for a special thing of our own—­a fortification.  That would be a party sin.  Conservatism is a principle of government; the best because the safest for an old country; and the guarantee that we do not lose the wisdom of past experience in our struggle with what is doubtful.  Liberalism stakes too much on the chance of gain.  It is uncomfortably seated on half-a-dozen horses; and it has to feed them too, and on varieties of corn.’

‘Yes,’ Miss Halkett said, pausing, ’and I know you would not talk down to me, but the use of imagery makes me feel that I am addressed as a primitive intelligence.’

’That’s the fault of my trying at condensation, as the hieroglyphists put an animal for a paragraph.  I am incorrigible, you see; but the lecture in prose must be for by-and-by, if you care to have it.’

’If you care to read it to me.  Did a single hieroglyphic figure stand for so much?’

‘I have never deciphered one.’

‘You have been speaking to me too long in earnest, Mr. Austin!’

’I accept the admonition, though it is wider than the truth.  Have you ever consented to listen to politics before?’

Cecilia reddened faintly, thinking of him who had taught her to listen, and of her previous contempt of the subject.

A political exposition devoid of imagery was given to her next day on the sunny South-western terrace of Mount Laurels, when it was only by mentally translating it into imagery that she could advance a step beside her intellectual guide; and she was ashamed of the volatility of her ideas.  She was constantly comparing Mr. Austin and Nevil Beauchamp, seeing that the senior and the junior both talked to her with the familiar recognition of her understanding which was a compliment without the gross corporeal phrase.  But now she made another discovery, that should have been infinitely more of a compliment, and it was bewildering, if not repulsive to her:—­could it be credited?  Mr. Austin was a firm believer in new and higher destinies for women.  He went farther than she could concede