his folly had rejected
the proffered draught of bliss. He blasphemed against the Fitz-pompeys.
However, he did not leave Dacre at the same time as Arundel, but
lingered on. His affairs were far from being arranged. The Irish
business gave great trouble, and he determined therefore to remain.

It was ridiculous to talk of feeding a passion which was not susceptible
of increase. Her society was Heaven; and he resolved to enjoy it,
although he was to be expelled. As for his loss of fortune, it gave him
not a moment's care. Without her, he felt he could not live in England,
and, even ruined, he would be a match for an Italian prince.

So he continued her companion, each day rising with purer feelings and
a more benevolent heart; each day more convinced of the falseness of his
past existence, and of the possibility of happiness to a well-regulated
mind; each day more conscious that duty is nothing more than
self-knowledge, and the performance of it consequently the development
of feelings which are the only true source of self-gratification. He
mourned over the opportunities which he had forfeited of conducing to
the happiness of others and himself. Sometimes he had resolved to remain
in England and devote himself to his tenantry; but passion blinded him,
and he felt that he had erred too far ever to regain the right road.

The election for which Arundel Dacre was a candidate came on. Each day
the state of the poll arrived. It was nearly equal to the last. Their
agitation was terrible, but forgotten in the deep mortification which
they experienced at the announcement of his defeat. He talked to the
public boldly of petitioning, and his certainty of ultimate success; but
he let them know privately that he had no intention of the first, and
no chance of the second. Even Mr. Dacre could mot conceal his deep
disappointment; but May was quite in despair. Even if her father could
find means of securing him a seat another time, the present great
opportunity was lost.

'Surely we can make some arrangement for next session,' said the Duke,
whispering hope to her.

'Oh! no, no, no; so much depended upon this. It is not merely his taking
a part in the debate, but--but Arundel is so odd, and everything was
staked upon this. I cannot tell you what depended upon it. He will leave
England directly.'

She did not attempt to conceal her agitation. The Duke rose, and paced
the room in a state scarcely less moved. A thought had suddenly