artled eyes beside him beguiled him further.

"I didn't mean to say anything indiscreet--or disloyal," he said, with a
smile, recovering himself. "It is often the greatest men who cling to
the old world--when the new is clamoring. But the new means to be heard
all the same."

Diana's color flashed.

"I would rather be in that old world with Mr. Ferrier than in the new
with Mr. Barton!"

"What is the use of talking of preferences? The world is what it is--and
will be what it will be. Barton is our master--Ferrier's and mine. The
point is to come to terms, and make the best of it."

"No!--the point is--to hold the gate!--and die on the threshold, if need
be."

They had come to a stile. Marsham had crossed it, and Diana mounted. Her
young form showed sharply against the west; he looked into her eyes,
divided between laughter and feeling; she gave him her hand. The man's
pulses leaped anew. He was naturally of a cool and self-possessed
temperament--the life of the brain much stronger in him than the life of
the senses. But at that moment he recognized--as perhaps, for the first
time, the night before--that Nature and youth had him at last in grip.
At the same time the remembrance of a walk over the same ground that he
had taken in the autumn With Alicia Drake flashed, unwelcomed, into his
mind. It stirred a half-uneasy, half-laughing compunction. He could not
flatter himself--yet--that his cousin had forgotten it.

"What gate?--and what threshold?" he asked Diana, as they moved on. "If
you mean the gate of power--it is too late. Democracy is in the
citadel--and has run up its own flag. Or to take another metaphor--the
Whirlwind is in possession--the only question is who shall ride it!"

Diana declared that the Socialists would ride it to the abyss--with
England on the crupper.

"Magnificent!" said Marsham, "but merely rhetorical. Besides--all that
we ask, is that Ferrier should ride it. Let him only try the beast--and
he will find it tame enough."

"And if he won't?--"

"Ah, if he won't--" said Marsham, uncertainly, and paused. In the
growing darkness she could no longer see his face plainly. But presently
he resumed, more earnestly and simply.

"Don't misunderstand me! Ferrier is our chief--my chief, above all--and
one does not even discuss whether one is loyal to him. The party owes
him an enormous debt. As for myself--" He drew a long breath, which was
again a sigh.

Then with a change of manner, and in