Patricia said no more; and soon afterwards the Countess took her departure. When she had gone, the girl remained long in her boudoir, deep in thought. Was it Providence, or merely the irony of fate, that caused her greatest friend to become the wife of her greatest enemy, she wondered. If only she might talk it over with her lover when he came; but she was bound to silence. The fire burned low, and as the shadows gathered, a shadow seemed to oppress her heart. Presently a footman brought her some tea, and tried to make the room more cosy by stirring the fire and drawing the velvet curtains together. Certainly the electric lamps, under their golden shades, conduced to cheerfulness more than the grey twilight. But the sense of loneliness was not dispelled, and crept closer as the hours lengthened. At six o’clock Mrs. Lowther returned, and expounded on all the events of the day; but her companionship was not of the kind that the girl needed, and she was glad when it was time to dress. Her lover did not arrive until much later—just when she had given him up, and was contemplating bed. He had come straight from the House, and burst into the room with an impetuosity she had never seen in him before. His face was so pale, and his eyes so bright, that instinctively she knew that something was wrong. Being aware of the presence of her chaperon, he said not a word, but took both her hands in silence. Mrs. Lowther, with unusual tact, gathered up her belongings, and uttering a trivial excuse, sailed majestically out of the room. Patricia gave a sigh of relief, but she was in a flutter of suspense. “Your hands are as cold as ice, dear,” she said, with concern. “What has happened?” “The very worst!” was his reply, in a voice which was hoarse with emotion—“worse than anything I had anticipated even in my wildest dreams. Athelstan Moore has declared open antagonism towards my people. To-night a Bill came up for its first reading in Parliament—a Bill for the banishment of all the Jews!” “All the Jews?” the girl repeated questioningly. “The pauper aliens, you mean?” He shook his head. “No, _all_ the Jews, both English and foreign, rich and poor. Moore does not intend to do things by halves.” Patricia drew a deep breath. “Preposterous!” she exclaimed—“preposterous! Surely the man must be mad. Banish the Jews! Why, anyone can see at first sight that the idea is totally impracticable. How was it received?” He sank on to a chair, looking almost exhausted. “I hardly know. I was so dumfounded that I could scarcely move, and the whole place seemed to spin. The other Members regarded it with equanimity, and evidently knew something of it before. I suppose I was purposely kept in the dark. The House rose before the debate was concluded, and it will be brought on again to-morrow night. But think, Patricia, what it will mean. It is enough to make a man’s senses reel!”