by the window. The senator turned and closed the door, and read from
a paper in his hand; so used was he to formality that he read it
formally, yet with a feeling of intense relief, of deference, of apology.

"Fifth ballot:--The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . . . 587;
The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has . . . 230; The Honourable
Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 154.

And Giles Henderson is nominated--Hilary?"

"Yes," said Mr. Vane.

"I don't think any of us were--quite ourselves to-day. It wasn't that we
didn't believe in you--but we didn't have all the threads in our hands,
and--for reasons which I think I can understand--you didn't take us into
your confidence. I want to--"

The words died on the senator's lips. So absorbed had he been in his
momentous news, and solicitous over the result of his explanation, that
his eye looked outward for the first time, and even then accidentally.

"Hilary!" he cried; "for God's sake, what's the matter? Are you sick?"

"Yes, Whitredge," said Mr. Vane, slowly, "sick at heart."

It was but natural that these extraordinary and incomprehensible words
should have puzzled and frightened the senator more than ever.

"Your heart!" he repeated.

"Yes, my heart," said Hilary.

The senator reached for the ice-water on the table.

"Here," he cried, pouring out a glass, "it's only the heat--it's been a
hard day--drink this."

But Hilary did not raise his arm. The door opened others coming to
congratulate Hilary Vane on the greatest victory he had ever won. Offices
were secure once more, the feudal system intact, and rebels justly
punished; others coming to make their peace with the commander whom,
senseless as they were, they had dared to doubt.

They crowded past each other on the threshold, and stood grouped beyond
the basswood table, staring--staring--men suddenly come upon a tragedy
instead of a feast, the senator still holding the glass of water in a
hand that trembled and spilled it. And it was the senator, after all, who
first recovered his presence of mind. He set down the water, pushed his
way through the group into the hall, where the tumult and the shouting
die. Mr. Giles Henderson, escorted, is timidly making his way towards the
platform to read his speech of acceptance of a willing bondage, when a
voice rings out:--"If there is a physician in the house, will he please
come forward?"

And then a hush,--and then the buzz of comment. Back to th