hat everything is going
wonderfully well with you?"

"It looks so, for the present."

"And, after all, whom have you to thank for it?"

"I don't forget," Dyce replied, wondering whether she alluded to the
fact of her having introduced him to the mistress of Rivenoak, or to
the terms of their engagement.

"If you win the election, don't you think it would be graceful not only
to feel, but to show, a little gratitude?"

She spoke in a voice which once more reminded him of the summer-house
on that rainy morning, a voice very unlike her ordinary utterance, soft
and playfully appealing.

"Don't be so severe on me," answered Dyce, with a laugh. "I am not
_all_ self-interest."

He added what was meant for a reassuring look, and began to talk of
electioneering details.

CHAPTER XXI

Lady Ogram's life had been much guided by superstition. No one knew it,
or suspected it, for this was among the tokens of her origin which she
carefully kept out of sight. Through all the phases of her avowed
belief, she remained subject to a private religion of omens and
auspices, which frequently influenced her conduct. Thus, she would long
ago have brought forth and displayed that marble visage of her beauty
in its prime, but for a superstitious fear which withheld her. On the
night before Sir Quentin's death, she dreamt that she ascended to the
garret, took the bust in her arms, and carried it downstairs. Many
years went by, and again she had the same dream; the next day her first
serious illness fell upon her, and, remembering the vision, she gave
herself up for lost; but the sign this time had less than fatal
significance. Now once more, on the Sunday night of the present week,
she seemed to enter the locked garret, and to carry away the marble.
All Monday she lived in a great dread, but at evening came the news
that her arch-enemy was no more, and behold the vision explained!

On Monday night she dreamt not at all, being kept awake by exultation
in what had happened and forecast of triumphs soon to be enjoyed. But
her thoughts turned constantly to the graven image which she longed to
see, and, by a process of reasoning natural to such a mind as hers, she
persuaded herself that now was the moment to fulfil her desire. The
bust once brought down, she would not again dream of going to seek it,
and, consequently, it could not serve again to augur evil. Not without
tremors, she executed her resolve, and, the thing once done, h