nce, that vague multitude between the refined middle class and
the rude toilers, which, as he knew theoretically, played such an
important part in modern civilisation? Among these people, energy was
naked, motives were direct. There the strength and the desires of the
people became vocal; they must be studied, if one wished to know the
trend of things. Had he not seen it remarked somewhere that from this
class sprang nearly all the younger representatives of literature and
art, the poets, novelists, journalists of to-day; all the vigorous
young workers in science? Lashmar, he felt sure, was but one remove
from it. That busy and aspiring multitude would furnish, most likely,
by far the greater part of the spiritual aristocracy for which our
world was waiting.

From this point of view, the girl had a new interest. She was destined,
perhaps, to be the mother of some great man. He hoped she would not
marry foolishly; the wealth she must soon inherit hardly favoured her
chances in this respect; doubtless she would be surrounded by
unprincipled money-hunters. On the whole, it seemed rather a pity that
Lashmar had not chosen and won her; there would have been a fitness,
one felt, in that alliance. At the same time, Lashmar's selection of an
undowered mate spoke well for him. For it was to be presumed that Lady
Ogram's secretary had no very brilliant prospects. Certainly she did
not make much impression at the first glance; one would take her for a
sensible, thoughtful woman, nothing more.

After a lapse of twenty-four hours, he replied to Mrs. Toplady. Yes, if
the weather were not too discouraging, he hoped to be at Lady
Honeybourne's. He added that the fact of Lashmar's engagement had come
as news to him.

So, after all, his "season" was not yet over. But perhaps kind Jupiter
would send rain, and make the murdering of Shakespeare an
impossibility. Now and then he tapped his barometer, which for some
days had hovered about "change," the sky meanwhile being clouded. On
the eve of Midsummer Day there was every sign of unseasonable weather.
Dymchurch told himself, with a certain persistency, that he was glad.

Yet the morrow broke fair, and at mid-day was steadily bright.
Throughout the morning, Dymchurch held himself at remorseless study,
and was rewarded by the approval of his conscience; whence, perhaps,
the cheerfulness of resignation with which he made ready to keep his
engagement at the Surrey house. With a half smile o