A Lost Leader Part 51

"An impulse," he said. "To-morrrow I should have no time to come to you. I wasn't feeling quite myself, and it is possible that I may be undertaking some very important work before long."

"I shouldn't if I were you," the doctor remarked, quietly.

"The work is of such a nature," Mannering said, "that I could not refuse it. It may not come, but if it does I must go through with it."

"I doubt whether you will succeed," the doctor said. "There is nothing the matter with you except that you have been drawing on your reserve stock of strength to such an extent that you are on the verge of a collapse. The longer you stave it off the more complete it will be."

"You are a Job's comforter," Mannering remarked, with a smile. "Send me some physic, and I will take things as easy as I can."

"I'll send you some," the doctor answered, "but it won't do you much good. What you want is rest and amus.e.m.e.nt."

Mannering laughed, and showed him out. When he returned to his study Hester was there, just returned from a visit to the theatre with some friends. She threw off her wrap and looked through the letters which had come by the evening's post.

"Did you see this from Richard Fardell?" she asked him. "Parkins is dead at last. Fardell says that he has been quite childish for the last eighteen months! Are you ill?" she broke off, suddenly.

Mannering, who was lying back in his easy-chair, white almost to the lips, roused himself with an effort. He poured out a gla.s.s of wine and drank it off.

"I'm not ill," he said, with rather a weak smile, "but I'm a little tired."

"Who was your visitor?" she asked.

"A doctor. I felt a little run down, so I sent for him. Of course he told me the usual story. Rest and a holiday."

She came and sat on the arm of his chair. Every year she grew less and less like her mother. Her hair was smoothly brushed back from her forehead, and her features were distinctly intellectual. She was by far the best secretary Mannering had ever had.

"You need some one to look after you," she said, decisively.

"It seems to me that you do that pretty well," he answered. "I don't want any one else."

"You need some one with more authority than I have," she said. "You ought to marry."

"Marry!" he gasped.

"Yes."

"Any particular person?"

"Of course! You know whom."

Mannering did not reply at once. He was looking steadfastly into the fire, and the gloom in his face was unlightened.

"Hester," he said, at last, in a very low tone, "I will tell you, if you like, a short, a very short chapter of my life. It lasted a few hours, a day or so, more or less. Yet of course it has made a difference always."

"I should like to hear it," she whispered.

"The two great events of my life," he said, "came together. I was engaged to be married to the d.u.c.h.ess of Lenchester at the same time that I found myself forced to sever my connexion with the Liberal party. You know, of course, that the d.u.c.h.ess has always been a great figure in politics. She has ambitions, and her political creed is almost a part of the religion of her life. She looked upon my apostasy with horror. It came between us at the very moment when I thought that I had found in life the one great and beautiful thing."

"If ever she let it come between you," Hester interrupted, softly, "I believe that she has repented. We women are quick to find out those things, you know," she added, "and I am sure that I am right. She has never married any one else. I do not believe that she ever will."

"It is too late," Mannering said. "A union between us now could only lead to unhappiness. The disintegration of parties is slowly commencing, and I think that the next few years will find me still further apart than I am to-day from my old friends. Berenice"--he slipped so easily into calling her so--"is heart and soul with them."

"At least," Hester said, "I think that for both your sakes you should give her the opportunity of choosing."

"Even that," he said, "would not be wise. We are man and woman still, you see, Hester, and there are moments when sentiment is strong enough to triumph over principle and sweep our minds bare of all the every-day thoughts. But afterwards--there is always the afterwards. The conflict must come. Reason stays with us always, and sentiment might weaken with the years."

She shook her head.

"The d.u.c.h.ess is a woman," she said, "and the hold of all other things grows weak when she loves. Give her the chance."

"Don't!" Mannering exclaimed, almost sharply. "You can't see this matter as I do. I have vowed my life now. I have seen my duty, and I have kept my face turned steadily towards it. Once I was contented with very different things, and I think that I came as near happiness then as a man often does. But those days have gone by. They have left a whole world of delightful memories, but I have locked the doors of the past behind me."

Hester shook her head.

"You are making a mistake," she said. "Two people who love one another, and who are honest in their opinions, find happiness sooner or later if they have the courage to seek for it. Don't you know," she continued, after a moment's pause, "that--she understood? I always like to think what I believe to be the truth. She went away to leave you free."

Mannering rose to his feet and pointed to the clock.

"It is time that you and I were in bed, Hester," he said. "Remember that we have a busy morning."

"It seems a pity," she murmured, as she wished him good-night. "A great pity!"

CHAPTER III

SUMMONED TO WINDSOR

Berenice, who had just returned from making a call, was standing in the hall, glancing through the cards displayed upon a small round table. The major-domo of her household came hurrying out from his office.

"There is a young lady, your Grace," he announced, "who has been waiting to see you for half an hour. Her name is Miss Phillimore."

"Where is she?" Berenice asked.

"In the library, your Grace."

"Show her into my own room," Berenice said, "I will see her at once."

Hester was a little nervous, but Berenice set her immediately at her ease by the graciousness of her manner. They talked for some time of Bonestre.

Then there was a moment's pause. Hester summoned up her courage.

"I am afraid," she said, "that you may consider what I am going to say rather a liberty. I've thought it all out, and I decided to come to you.

I couldn't see any other way."

Berenice smiled encouragingly.

"I will promise you," she said, "that I will consider it nothing of the sort."