to sentimental weakness; with all this,
the heaven-sent gift of leadership, power of speech, calm and justified
self-confidence. Lashmar's face beamed as he recognised each trait.
Breakspeare, the while, regarded him with half-closed eyes in which
twinkled a world of humour.

"A little too generous, I'm afraid," Dyce remarked at length,
thoughtfully.

"Not a bit of it!" cried the editor, scratching the tip of his nose,
where he had somehow caught a spot of ink. "Bald facts; honest
portraiture. It doesn't displease you?"

"How could it? I only hope I may be recognised by such of your readers
as have met me."

"You certainly will be. I shall follow this up with a portrait of the
least acceptable type of Conservative candidate, wherein all will
recognise our Parliamentary incubus. Thus do we open the great
campaign! If you would care to, pray keep that proof; some day it may
amuse you to look at it, and to recall these early days of our
acquaintance. Now I will take you to my house, which, I need not say,
you honour by this visit. You are a philosopher, and simplicity will
not offend you."

They walked along one or two main streets, the journalist, still
ink-spotted on the nose, nodding now and then to an acquaintance, and
turned at length into a by-way of dwelling-houses, which did not,
indeed, suggest opulence, but were roomy and decent. At one of the
doors, Breakspeare paused, turned the handle, and ushered in his guest.

Almost immediately, Dyce was presented to his hostess, on whose thin
but pleasant face he perceived with satisfaction a reverential
interest. Mrs. Breakspeare had few words at her command, and was
evidently accustomed to be disregarded; she knew that her husband
admired intellectual women, and that he often privately lamented his
mistake in marriage; but none the less was she aware that he enjoyed
the comfort of his home--to her a sufficient recompense. Like many a
man, Breakspeare would have been quite satisfied with his wife, if, at
the same time, he could have had another. He heartily approved the
domestic virtues; it would have exasperated him had the mother of his
children neglected home duties for any intellectual pursuit; yet, as
often as he thought of Miss Bride, contemptuous impatience disturbed
his tranquillity. He desired to unite irreconcilable things. His
practical safeguard was the humour which, after all, never allowed him
to take life too seriously.

A boy of sixteen, the elde