and ennobled; and the effort which he had at first thought of making, chiefly in compliance with the wishes of certain friends, and because he felt (like Myles Heywood) a thirst for constant work wherewith to fill up his life--this effort, not a very hearty or enthusiastic one, was now changed completely by the consciousness that there was not only Sebastian Mallory, indolent and indifferent by nature, to be consulted, but also Helena Spenceley, earnest, vehement, and enthusiastic, who would exult in his success, and be bitterly disappointed by his failure. Indeed, she was so calmly confident that he would win, that he felt he dared not lose. All this combined in his favour that night. There was no want of unanimity in the voice of the meeting. The speaker was so carried away himself that he carried his audience away with him. They separated in the highest good humour with him and themselves--full of confidence in their candidate, and of amiable contempt for his Conservative opponent. There followed a gathering of some of his friends, and supper at home. Politics, and nothing but politics, engrossed the conversation, and it was late when Sebastian found himself alone. He drew a long breath of relief, but checked it again immediately--as he remembered the interview which was to follow. ‘Best get it over at once,’ he reflected, going to the drawing-room; but finding it empty, he went upstairs and knocked at his mother’s dressing-room door. ‘Who’s there?’ she asked. ‘It is I--Sebastian. May I see you for a few minutes?’ ‘Come in!’ was the answer, and Sebastian entered. Mrs. Mallory was seated before her looking-glass, and her maid was brushing her hair. ‘Be quick, Emma,’ said she; ‘and sit down, Sebastian; I shall be ready directly.’ He threw himself into a low chair by the hearth, and in two minutes was lost in a pleasant, pleasant dream. ‘Now!’ said his mother’s voice at last, and he speedily awoke to reality again. The lady’s maid had twisted up her mistress’s hair into a loose knot in the gaslight. With the soft frills of her dressing-gown round her neck she looked a very young and handsome woman. ‘What beautiful hair you have, mother!’ he exclaimed, struck with its gloss and abundance. ‘Why do you cover it up with a cap?’ ‘Is that all you have come to say?’ she inquired drily. ‘What kind of a meeting did you have?’ ‘It appeared very unanimous and successful. Ponsonby said it was, and he ought to know. I wish you had been there. I saw a good many ladies.’ ‘Very likely; but not ladies of my opinions.’ ‘Ah! I forgot,’ said Sebastian, smiling. He felt soft-hearted to-night, and hardly noticed his mother’s coolness. ‘Have all those men gone?’ ‘Yes; the last of them has departed, and I am glad of it. But I did not come to keep you talking about Radical meetings, mother. I wished particularly to see you to-night; I have something to tell you.’