s persecuted for
his religion in Charles the First's time--some dissenter who got into
the grip of Laud, was imprisoned, and then brought to destitution by
being forbidden to exercise each calling that he took to in hope of
earning bread. The end was, he went mad and died. Lilian was crying
over the story; it made her wretched for a whole day."

"Rather morbid, that, I'm afraid."

"I don't know; most of us would be better for a little of such
morbidness. You mustn't suppose that fiction would have the same effect
on her--not at all. That poor devil (his name, I remember, was Workman)
was really and truly hounded to insanity and the grave, and she saw the
thing in all its dreadful details. I would rather she had got into a
rage about it, as I should--but that isn't her nature."

"Let us hope she could rejoice when Laud was laid by the heels."

"I fear not. I'm afraid she would forget, and make excuses for the
blackguard."

Glazzard smiled at the ceiling, and smoked silently. Turning his eyes
at length, and seeing Quarrier in a brown study, he contemplated the
honest face, then asked:

"How old is she?"

"Just one-and-twenty."

"I should have thought younger."

Nothing more was said of Lilian, and very soon they went to the room
where she awaited them.

"I know you are a musician, Mr. Glazzard," said Lilian before long.
"Will you let me have the pleasure of hearing you play something?"

"Some enemy hath done this," the guest made reply, looking towards
Denzil.

But without further protest he went to the piano and played two or
three short pieces. Any one with more technical knowledge than the
hearers would have perceived that he was doing his best. As it was,
Lilian frequently turned to Denzil with a look of intense delight.

"Glazzard," exclaimed his friend at length, "it puzzles me how such a
lazy fellow as you are has managed to do so much in so many directions."

The musician laughed carelessly, and, not deigning any other reply,
went to talk with his hostess.

CHAPTER IV

The Polterham Literary Institute was a "hot-bed of Radicalism." For the
last year or two this had been generally understood. Originating in the
editorial columns of the _Polterham Mercury_, the remark was now a
commonplace on the lips of good Conservatives, and the liberals
themselves were not unwilling to smile an admission of its truth. At
the founding of the Institute no such thing was foreseen; but in 1859
Polterham