Eustace went back to London about ten days after the election at Pentreath. Parliament was to meet in June, and there was much of importance to be discussed beforehand. He and Sir Roland travelled in company, and the Duke’s farewell was warmer and more cordial by many degrees than it had been on the occasion of his last departure. As for Bride, there had been something so sweet and subtly tender in their relations during the past few days, that the parting with her was wonderfully hard. Eustace lay awake the whole of his last night at the castle, thinking of her, and wondering how he could bear to say adieu; and when they met in the morning, her eyes were heavy and her face was sorrowful, as though she too had kept vigil and dreaded the coming day. In point of fact, Bride had kept vigil in a very literal fashion, for she had been kneeling in prayer for Eustace very many hours of that summer’s night--praying that he might be delivered from any and all of those perils which might happen to the body whilst travelling through an excited country; but above all, praying that he might be kept safe in those assaults of evil that might assail and hurt the soul--that he might be strong to resist temptation, that he might be the champion always for good, yet discriminate and discern the moment when evil crept in, and where party spirit took the place of the true desire after the best welfare of the nation. She understood far better than she had done a year ago the difficulties of that strife, and where once she would have stood aloof with a sense of pained disappointment and disapproval, she would now, as it were, stretch forward a helping hand, and strive to show the firm path amid all the quagmires of strife and emulation. As she clasped hands with Eustace for the last time, and their eyes met, some strange electric current seemed to pass between them, and, as though in answer to spoken words, he said, in a low moved tone-- “I will be true--I will be faithful--I will strive to fight the good fight, and you will be my best helper.” She did not answer with her lips, but her eyes made amends for that. Suddenly Eustace came one step nearer, put both his hands upon her shoulders, and bent his head and kissed her on the lips. For a single second she started, as though the touch of his hands had alarmed her, but the next moment she looked straight into his eyes, and yielded her lips to his for that last salute. “God be with you, Eustace,” she whispered; and as the young man rode away he felt he understood for the first time in his life the true meaning and application of the simple and oft-used phrase, “Good-bye.”