The barrier referred to had now been removed, thanks to Monckton's insistance, and although it was too late to call on Miss Huntley that day, Brian was able to go and dine at his club, a thing which he would not have ventured to do without a renewal of his wardrobe. It seemed as if the tide of his fortunes, after ebbing for so long, had now turned in earnest ; for the first person whom he saw on entering the club was little Tommy Phipps, and Phipps, instead of instantly taking flight, came forward in the most cordial manner and shook him by the hand, exclaiming: "So here you are at last, Segrave! I have been seeking you high and low for an age--at least, I should have been seeking you if I had had the faintest notion of where to seek. I wonder whether you recollect a suggestion I made to you last winter about an opera of which you were to provide the music and I the words."

"I recollect it so well," answered Brian, "that I have composed a lot of airs which I thought might be suitable for it, and which I meant to show you long ago, only I couldn't get hold of you.'

"Oh, well, I've been abroad, you know," the other observed, with a passing twinge of compunction. "I am very glad to hear that you haven't dropped the idea. What are you doing to-night? Could you dine with me and discuss matters?"·

Brian answered that he could and would, with great pleasure; and shortly afterwards he was favoured with an outline of the drama whereby Mr. Phipps hoped to add fresh laurels to those which already adorned his brow.

"I must tell you, Segrave," the latter premised, "that I am not a mere librettist. If I were, I should only be called upon to supply a certain amount of doggerel to suit your composition and I couldn't reasonably ask for half profits, which is the arrangement that I propose to make with you. This work, if it ever comes to anything, will be as much mine as yours. The music, I don't doubt, will be first-rate; but the dialogue and the situations which I shall contribute won't be altogether bad, I trust. My belief is that the public nowadays is not a bit more willing to tolerate rubbish set to good music than bad music combined with a good play; and, for my part, I think the public is right. I don't know whether you agree with me."

Brian having nodded assent, the dramatist continued: "I'll just give you an idea of the kind of thing I have in my mind. I should name it, I think, The King's Veto, and the

plot would be something like this: the tenor would be the king-call him Conrad, King of Democratia, if you like-who suddenly and quite unexpectedly finds himself a reigning sovereign, owing to the death of his cousin, who has been drowned in the Royal yacht, together with the heir apparent and the rest of his family. Conrad had been upon the point of contracting a morganatic marriage with the soprano, Phyllis, a charming young person, but not of royal blood. Of course his accession to the throne puts this arrangement, which had been sanctioned by the late king, out of the question, and the first thing that his ministers tell him is that he must not only give up all thought of it, but ally himself as speedily as possible with his distant kinswoman, the Princess Octavia (contralto), lest the dynasty should become extinct. Now, at this time Democratia is in the throes of a constitutional crisis, the advanced party having brought in a measure for the extension of the suffrage to-to- well, say to the criminal classes and lunatics, and having carried their bill by a large majority, Conrad, who cares very little whether all his subjects or only ninetenths of them have votes, but who cares a great deal about Phyllis, inquires into his constitutional powers and is delighted to find that he possesses a right of veto. He immediately informs the ministry that unless he is allowed to marry the girl of his heart, he shall exercise it. They assure him that the right of veto is never exercised and that he daren't do such a thing; and he proves the contrary to them. Whereupon they resign, and the other side takes office. The other side, after due reflection, decides that the extension of the franchise ought not any longer to be made a party question and re-introduces the same bill, with the same result. This, you will perceive, brings Democratia pretty near to a revolution, and we shall have an animated debate in the Chamber upon the question of whether it is or is not competent for Parliament to abolish the king's veto."

Won't that approach burlesque ?" suggested Brian.

"Not if we have proper costumes. I admit that it wouldn't do to put on the stage an assembly in trousers and frockcoats; but sixteenth-century attire will make it all right, and the scene will give you a good opportunity for choruses. Besides, you will have plenty of pathos by-and-by. The villain (and baritone) will be Prince Otho, a connection of the Royal house, who has designs

upon the throne, and who naturally eggs Conrad on. Then there will be a socialist plot for the assassination of the king and establishment of a republic, and Otho will mix himself up in it, meaning to use the conspirators for his own purposes and get rid of them afterwards. Now, I'm sure you see what can be done with these materials Phyllis, perceiving her lover's danger and determined to renounce him rather than let him sacrifice himself for her; the ministers, in a mortal funk lest anarchy should supervene and their occupation be gone, surrounding their beloved sovereign with detectives and guards, and Otho carrying on his schemes with every prospect of success. You could bring in a most affecting aria and duo where Phyllis takes leave of Conrad-Bid me not stay! -Lovers to-day-Part but to meet when life passes away'-that sort of thing, you know, and then the usual rumty-tumty about sever and never and for ever-I think it might be made to go with a very pretty swing. For the finale we should have a masked ball at the Palace-obviously the conspirators' only chance. Phyllis, who has joined them for certain reasons, engages to lead the King out into the gardens, where the charge of dynamite is to be placed, declaring herself ready to lay down her life for the sake of her country-an offer which they are only too happy to accept. That makes things quite simple for her. All she has to do is to persuade Otho to assume a domino exactly resembling his Majesty's, draw him aside upon some pretext, and so keep her word by dying for her country, because, from the moment that both she and Otho are removed, Conrad's throne will be safe. The dynamite, of course, hangs fire; the assassin in charge of it, seeing that he has failed, rushes forth and stabs Otho to the heart. Then follows the discovery of the plot, the recognition of Phyllis's heroism, and her elevation to the rank of Queen Consort by the unanimous consent of a grateful people. That's only a rough draft; I shall improve upon it when I come to work out the details; but I think it gives ample scope to the musician, don't you?"

but he had a strong impression that success of any kind would appeal powerfully to her: already, in prophetic fancy, he "saw the bright eyes of the dear one discover She thought that he was not unworthy to love her." It was perhaps neither surprising nor inexcusable that he should have forgotten for a time the social gulf which yawned between him and a lady of Beatrice Huntley's wealth and celebrity: anyhow, he was not suffered to forget it long. For between eleven and twelve o'clock there strolled into the smoking-room of the club a fair-haired young man in evening dress, who, on espying Phipps, called out, "Hullo, Tommy! how are you getting on? Been writing any more plays lately?"

And while Brian was thinking that the features of the newcomer were not altogether unfamiliar to him, Phipps responded:

"My dear fellow, I'm going to write something that will make you applaud with all your hands and feet-a joint affair this time. By the way, let me introduce you to my friend and future colleague, Mr. Segrave. Lord Stapleford, Mr. Segrave."

"Not my old friend Segrave major?" said Stapleford. "By jove! it is though. Don't you remember me, Segrave?"

"To be sure I do," answered Brian, who, indeed, had been in the same division with Stapleford at Eton. "I was sure I knew you, only I couldn't put a name to you."

A short conversation over bygone days followed, and then Stapleford said,

"I wonder whether you have anything to do with a certain Segrave from whom my cousin Beatrice has just bought a house somewhere down in the west.'

"I have sold, or rather I believe I am about to sell, the only house that I possess to Miss Huntley," Brian replied. "I didn't know she was your cousin."

"Of course she's my cousin. At least, her sister-in-law is, which is much the same thing; and a nice rage her sister-in-law is in with her for buying your house, by that same token. What she's doing it for goodness only knows! She swears she means to spend the winters there in future, but I hope she don't mean it."

Phipps chuckled. "That sort of winter quarters wouldn't exactly suit you, eh ?"

"Good heavens! no," Stapleford replied unguardedly. "Why, there's no decent hunting to be had within a hundred miles of the place!"

presume we may offer our respectful congratulations. When does the event come off?"

This innocent allusion to an engagement which everybody had been speaking of as imminent for weeks past was not very well received. Stapleford looked annoyed for a moment; then, assuming an air of stony unconsciousness, replied, "I don't know what you mean," while Brian started up hurriedly, and said in a somewhat husky voice that he must be off.

There is no such thing as being prepared for a shock. The blow, when it comes, is not the less stunning in its effects because it has been foreseen; and Brian, who, ever since his departure from Kingscliff, had been telling himself at intervals that Beatrice would certainly marry before long, stumbled out into the street with a sickening conviction that all the musical and dramatic triumphs which the world could offer would be of no solace to him now. He had not heard Stapleford's disclaimer, and, if he had heard it, would not have believed in it.

“What a consummate fool I must be !" he ejaculated. "To think that I have been nursing a remnant of hope all this time!"

Possibly he may have been a fool; but if all those who cherish hope unconsciously be fools, then without doubt he had something like the entire human race for his associates.

CHAPTER XXVII.—GILBERT SEES BREAKERS

AHEAD.

GILBERT SEGRAVE was as good a landlord as his father had been before him. Agriculture had not the charm for him which it had had for the old man; but he was not a whit less interested in the improvement of his property; and as he now had command of more ready money than Sir Brian had ever possessed, he was able by judicious expenditure to avoid that reduction of rents which was beginning to press heavily upon some of his neighbours. Judicious expenditure is a very different thing from loss, and it caused Gilbert's tenants to regard him with friendship and approval. He was anxious, for many reasons, that they should so regard him. Among other things, he wanted them to vote for him when the time should come; and he believed that they would vote for him, in spite of Tory leanings and some distrust of the newly-enfranchised labourers. One morning as he was walking homewards, after sanctioning, against the judgment of his bailiff, some drainage works which a farmer had asked him to take in hand, he

was surprised to see a stout little old gentleman in black broadcloth and a tall hat trotting up the avenue. Mr. Potter had not visited Beckton since the day of Sir Brian's funeral, nor had it ever been his custom to do so without previous warning. He explained himself, after shaking hands with Gilbert and accepting the latter's invitation to luncheon.

"There are one or two trifling matters to which I wished to call your attention," said he, "and, being here, I thought I might as I well communicate with you by word of mouth."

It was not until the matters referred to, as well as an excellent luncheon, had been disposed of that Gilbert asked:

And what has brought you to Kingscliff, Mr. Potter, if it isn't an impertinent question? Not pleasure, I'm quite sure; and I thought we were your only clients in these parts."

"So you are so you are," answered the old lawyer, sipping his wine. "What good claret this is! The days of good claret are nearly over now, more's the pity. Yes; I have no clients hereabouts but yourselves— you and your brother.”

"My brother!" echoed Gilbert, lifting his eyebrows and smiling. Then as a sudden light broke in upon him-"Oh, I see! he has made up his mind to sell the Manor House at last. Much the wisest thing that he could do, in my opinion."

Mr. Potter closed his eyes and nodded. "I quite agree with you; it is what I have advised all along. And I am sure you will be glad to hear," he added, looking up abruptly, "that he has got a capital price for the place too."

Gilbert coloured with annoyance. He quite understood Mr. Potter's malignant satisfaction and thought to himself, "You old wretch! you came here on purpose to triumph over me."

But the thrust had been delivered too

suddenly to be successfully parried, and he could not refrain from saying:

"I think I ought to have been told that the place was for sale. Both you and Brian must have known that I was anxious to buy it, and in all probability I should have been ready to offer as good a price as Mr. Buswell."

"Ah," observed Mr. Potter placidly, "I was afraid you would be vexed that the property should have slipped through your fingers; still, in these cases, one must stick to the rule of first come, first served; and

really, as your legal adviser, I don't know that I could have recommended you to give quite as much as Miss Huntley has done. By the way, Miss Huntley is the purchaser, not Mr. Buswell."

"Miss Huntley!" ejaculated Gilbert, to whom this announcement was not less surprising and scarcely less unwelcome than the preceding one; "what in the world does she want with the Manor House?"

"I can't say; I don't know the lady. Hemmings and Hawkins, who conveyed her offer to me, state that she proposes passing a part of every year there; but as she is rich, young, and also, I am told, handsome, her plans may be looked upon as liable to modifications. Of course she will always be able to sell, though whether at a loss or a profit will depend upon circumstances. I should be sorry to assert that she has made a bad bargain. Her father was a long-headed man, and possibly she has inherited some of his astuteness."

"I think you might at least have let me know before you completed the transaction," Gilbert repeated presently.

"How could we, with these people pressing for an immediate reply, and practically allowing us to name our own terms? Still, I don't wonder at your being disappointed." "I did not say that I was disappointed," returned Gilbert, to whom Mr. Potter's smile was fast becoming intolerable. "If Miss Huntley has offered you a fancy price, I could not have competed with her; and, indeed, the Manor House might have proved as much of a white elephant to me as it probably will to her. My only feeling is that Brian has behaved in a rather unbrotherly way to me. That, however, is nothing

"Ah!" said Mr. Potter.

"Yes; and now that he is, as I suppose, in a measure independent, there seems to be less chance than ever of his making friends with me. I regret it very much indeed; but I am glad to think that the quarrel is, at all events, not of my seeking."

"Ah!" said Mr. Potter again. There was evidently nothing to be done with this exasperating old lawyer but to get rid of him as soon as possible, and Gilbert was rejoiced to hear him say that he must catch the afternoon express to London. His disappointment was greater than he had expressed; greater also, perhaps, than Mr. Potter suspected. For some time after he had been left alone he sat, with his head upon his hand, pondering over the signifi

cance and results of Brian's unbrotherly conduct, and his apprehensions were summed up in the ejaculation which escaped him at last: "What will Buswell say to this, I wonder?"

Any doubts that he may have entertained as to that were soon set at rest by the arrival of Mr. Buswell himself; and the face of Mr. Buswell, as he bustled into the library where Gilbert was sitting, was red, and lowering clouds were upon his brow.

"Well, Mr. Segrave," he exclaimed, without even going through the formality of an ordinary greeting, "you have let us in nicely this time and no mistake! What was you thinking about, sir, to let your brother dispose of his property to anybody but you or me?" "Pray sit down, Mr. Buswell," returned Gilbert, who was not best pleased with the other's manner. "I have only just heard of the sale of the Manor House, and I confess that I have heard of it with considerable regret. My brother is free to make his own arrangements, and I dare say that I might not have been able to prevent him from making this one even if he had consulted me, although I quite see that it would have been better for you, and indeed for Kingscliff, if you could have acquired the land and built upon it."

"Better!" cried Mr. Buswell, "why, it's essential; neither more nor less than that. I've told you all along that we must have the Manor 'Ouse property, and I pretty generally say what I mean and mean what I say."

"Really, I am very sorry, Mr. Buswell, but I don't see how I can help you. It seems to me that you had better address yourself to Miss Huntley."

"What!—and have to pay twenty thousand pounds for land that we might have got for eight or ten! Mind you, Mr. Segrave, this is a matter that concerns you as well as me. I told you I could get you into Parliament, and, to speak plainly, I can keep you out of Parliament too."

"How will you benefit by keeping me out of Parliament, Mr. Buswell ?"

"That's not the question; and perhaps I should rather have said that you may be kep' out in spite of me. There's a certain number of votes that you can secure by showing people that you have the welfare of the place at 'eart, and unless you exert yourself, those same votes 'll be given to your opponent, whoever he may be, if it's only to punish you."

'In other words, the Manor House estate is to be the price of my election."

"Not a bit of it, nobody's asking you for a bribe. But self-interest, Mr. Segrave, is at the root of all human actions, and if anyone tells you it isn't, don't you believe him. We want that land at a reasonable figure; we've looked to you to get it for us, and we look to you still-that's all."

"Then you will be disappointed, I am afraid. How am I to get the land for you?"

"Ah, that's your affair. I know what I should do in your place! but maybe I should put your back up if I mentioned it."

"You can mention it," returned Gilbert shortly.

"Well," said Mr. Buswell, with a chuckle, "I should marry the lady, that's what I should do. By all accounts, she wouldn't be unwilling. Now after that, I'll wish you good-day. I see you don't much relish my putting my oar in; but your best friend couldn't have given you more sensible advice. Think it over, Mr. Segrave, think it over. I'll be bound to say that the longer you think of it the better you'll like it."

He retreated without giving Gilbert time to administer the rebuke which his impertinence merited. He was certainly very impertinent; still, as he had boasted, his advice was sensible or would have been, if the young candidate for parliamentary honours had been free and heart-whole. Gilbert, who was neither the one nor the other, could not help thinking it over and verifying, after a fashion, the prediction of its author; for the idea of his possible marriage with Miss Huntley soon ceased to make him angry. Not for an instant did he dream of being false to Kitty, only he wondered whether, supposing that there were no Kitty in exist ence, Miss Huntley would have deigned to look favourably upon him, and the popular impression of which Mr. Buswell had made himself the echo filled him with a certain complacency. But this was an unprofitable subject of speculation; what preoccupied Gilbert longer was the question of why Miss Huntley had bought the Manor House at all -a question to which the ostensible reply seemed to him altogether inadequate. And when he had given up that enigma, there remained for consideration the more serious one of how he was to get himself elected without fulfilling Mr. Buswell's conditions. The scarcely veiled threat of that worthy was not to be misunderstood or disregarded, yet what he had named as the price of his support was virtually unattainable.

When one rock breaks the even flow of a

prosperous career, it is well to keep a lookout for others. Some days after Gilbert had received the unwelcome visits described above, he drove over to the other side of the county in order to be present at a Conservative demonstration and fête, organized by Sir John Pollington and others and held in the grounds of that patriotic baronet. No invitations to this gathering were issued, a charge of sixpence for admission being exacted, lest unpleasant things should be said about the refreshments and prizes which were provided at Sir John's expense and freely offered to persons of all shades of political opinion. Gilbert had been advised to put in an appearance among the other country gentlemen, and although he would fain have avoided entering upon the territory of a man who persistently declined to see him when they met, he judged it best not to render himself conspicuous by absence.

Many of his own supporters, including Admiral Greenwood, welcomed him on his arrival. It was a beautiful day, the welltimbered, undulating park was thronged by the multitudinous rulers of this favoured land, who were competing against one another in hurdle-races and sack-races, playing kissin-the-ring, and otherwise disporting themselves, while the nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood looked on in benign sympathy.

"I call this a great success," said goodnatured Admiral Greenwood, rubbing his hands. "I like to see people happy, whether they're Liberals or Conservatives, don't you? Not much fun for poor Pollington, though, I expect. A pretty state his grass will be in to-morrow morning. And after all, the Tories are hardly likely to get a single extra vote for all their trouble."

"Don't be too sure of that," retorted a Conservative lady, who was standing beside him. "We aren't trying to catch votes by providing the electors with a day's pleasuring. The pleasuring is only the bait, the speech is the hook by which we hope to land them."

'Pollington's speech?" asked the Admiral incredulously.

"No, though he is very convincing, if people would only listen to him. But we have a trump-card up our sleeves, as you shall see presently."

And indeed, after the sports had been wound up and the prizes distributed from a platform which had been erected beneath a spreading oak, the real business of the day