," he remarked, "is waiting for answers. Two telegrams
at once is a thing wholly unheard of here, Borrowdean. You really ought
not to have disturbed our postal service to such an extent."

Borrowdean smiled as he tore them open.

"I think," he said, "that I can guess their contents. Yes, I thought so.
Can you send me to the station, Mannering?"

"I can--if it is necessary," Mannering answered. "Must you really go?"

Borrowdean nodded.

"I must be in the House to-night," he said, a little wearily. "Rochester
is going for them again."

"You didn't take a pair?" Mannering asked.

"It isn't altogether that," Borrowdean answered, "though Heaven knows we
can't spare a single vote just now. Rochester wants me to speak. We are a
used-up lot, and no mistake. We want new blood, Mannering!"

"I trust that the next election," Mannering said, "may supply you with
it. Will you walk round to the stables with me? I must order a cart for
you."

"I shall be glad to," Borrowdean answered.

They walked side by side through the chestnut grove. Borrowdean laid his
hand upon his friend's arm.

"Mannering," he said, slowly, "am I to take it that you have spoken your
last word? I am to write my mission down a failure?"

"A failure without doubt, so far as regards its immediate object,"
Mannering assented. "For the rest, it has been very pleasant to see you
again, and I only wish that you could spare us a few more days."

Borrowdean shook his head.

"We are better apart just now, Mannering," he said, "for I tell you
frankly that I do not understand your present attitude towards life--your
entire absence of all sense of moral responsibility. Are you indeed
willing to be written down in history as a philanderer in great things,
to loiter in your flower gardens, whilst other men fight the battle of
life for you and your fellows? Persist in your refusal to help us, if you
will, Mannering, but before I go you shall at least hear the truth."

Mannering smiled.

"Be precise, my dear friend. I shall hear your view of the truth!"

"I do not accept the correction," Borrowdean answered, quickly. "There
are times when a man can make no mistake, and this is one of them. You
shall hear the truth from me this afternoon, and when your days here have
been spun out to their limit--your days of sybaritic idleness--you shall
hear it again, only it will be too late. You are fighting against Nature,
Mannering. You were born to rule, to be master o