“My dear fellow, give me your hand; you speak manfully and candidly as a gentleman should speak. I answer in the same spirit. I don’t pretend to say that I have not entertained views for Cecilia which included hereditary rank and established fortune in a suitor to her hand, though I never should have made them imperative conditions. I am neither potentate nor _parvenu_ enough for that; and I can never forget” (here every muscle in the man’s face twitched) “that I myself married for love, and was so happy. How happy Heaven only knows! Still, if you had thus spoken a few weeks ago, I should not have replied very favourably to your question. But now that I have seen so much of you, my answer is this: If you lose your election,--if you don’t come into Parliament at all, you have my good-wishes all the same. If you win my daughter’s heart, there is no man on whom I would more willingly bestow her hand. There she is, by herself too, in the garden. Go and talk to her.” Gordon hesitated. He knew too well that he had not won her heart, though he had no suspicion that it was given to another. And he was much too clever not to know also how much he hazards who, in affairs of courtship, is premature. “Ah!” he said, “I cannot express my gratitude for words so generous, encouragement so cheering. But I have never yet dared to utter to Miss Travers a word that would prepare her even to harbour a thought of me as a suitor. And I scarcely think I should have the courage to go through this election with the grief of her rejection on my heart.” “Well, go in and win the election first; meanwhile, at all events, take leave of Cecilia.” Gordon left his friend, and joined Miss Travers, resolved not indeed to risk a formal declaration, but to sound his way to his chances of acceptance. The interview was very brief. He did sound his way skilfully, and felt it very unsafe for his footsteps. The advantage of having gained the approval of the father was too great to be lost altogether, by one of those decided answers on the part of the daughter which allow of no appeal, especially to a poor gentleman who wooes an heiress. He returned to Travers, and said simply, “I bear with me her good-wishes as well as yours. That is all. I leave myself in your kind hands.” Then he hurried away to take leave of his host and hostess, say a few significant words to the ally he had already gained in Mrs. Campion, and within an hour was on his road to London, passing on his way the train that bore Kenelm to Exmundham. Gordon was in high spirits. At least he felt as certain of winning Cecilia as he did of winning his election. “I have never yet failed in what I desired,” said he to himself, “because I have ever taken pains not to fail.” The cause of Gordon’s sudden departure created a great excitement in that quiet circle, shared by all except Cecilia and Sir Peter. CHAPTER III.