verything was ready, and the Colonel turned a last
inquiring glance towards the Governor.

"Yes," said Lord Eynesford; but at the same moment a loud cheer rang out
from the defenders of the gaol--

"Three cheers for Jimmy Medland!" they cried.

The Governor turned and saw the ex-Premier leaping from a cab and
hurrying towards them.

"Stop!" cried Medland. "Stop!"

CHAPTER XXIX.

A BEATEN MAN'S THOUGHTS.

On reaching his home, Medland had found that Norburn had arrived before
him, and was engaged in the task of consoling Daisy for the untoward
issue of the fight. Daisy, on her part, was full of praise for the
valour of Big Todd, and delighted to hear of the sort of fiasco that had
waited on the military display at the station. Safe from the eyes of all
save those who loved him, Medland did not maintain the indifferent air
that he had displayed in public. In vain they reminded him of the swift
reactions in political affairs, of the sturdy band that still owned his
leadership, and of the devotion of all Kirton to him, or bade him think
that he was himself almost a young man, and that this defeat was but a
check and not an end to his career. For the moment the buoyancy was out
of him; he did not care to discuss hopes or projects, and sat silent in
his chair, while Norburn sketched new campaigns and energetic raids on
Sir Robert's position. Daisy knew her father: these hours of
despondency were the penalty he paid for the glowing confidence and
rebounding hope that had made him the man and the power he was.

"Let him alone a little while," she whispered to her lover. "Something
will rouse him soon, and he'll be himself again."

She put his letters by him, and the two left him to solitude in his
study. He was vaguely surprised that no crowd had assembled to escort
him to his house, and that the street was so quiet; he supposed that his
adherents felt much as he did, too discouraged to make a parade, or try
to hide their wounds under the pretence of a brave show; yet he was
sensitive enough to every breath of popular sentiment to be hurt at the
first sign of neglect. Perhaps they had had enough of him, perhaps they
were looking for a new leader. No; that could hardly be, or they would
not have elected all his friends. It was just that they felt as he did,
beaten, soundly beaten, and had fled to their dens to lick their sores.

He listlessly stretched out his hand towards the letters and began to
open them.