"Well; why shouldn't one put the case? We have always counted on the hostility of the country. But the country seems to be coming round. Some of us now feel the Bill should have its chance--we are inclined to let Ministers take the responsibility. But, gracious heavens!--to suppose the House would pay any attention to me!" He took up a stone and jerked it over the wall. She did not speak for a moment. At last she said: "It would be a grave thing for _you_ to do." He turned, and their eyes met, hers full of emotion, and his hesitating and reflective. Then he laughed, his pride stung a little by her expression. "You think I should do myself more harm, than good to anybody else?" "No.--Only it would be serious," she repeated after a pause. Instantly he dropped the subject as far as his own action was concerned. He led her back into discussion of other people, and of the situation in general. Then suddenly, as they talked, a host of thoughts fled cloud-like, rising and melting, through Marcella's memory. She remembered with what prestige--considering his youth and inexperience--he had entered Parliament, the impression made by the short and brilliant campaign of his election. Now, since the real struggle of the session had begun, his energies seemed to have been unaccountably in abeyance, and eclipse. People she noticed had ceased to talk of him. But supposing, after all, there had been a crisis of mind and conviction underlying it?--supposing that now, at the last moment, in a situation that cried out for a leader, something should suddenly release his powers and gifts to do their proper work-- It vexed her to realise her own excitement, together with an odd shrinking and reluctance that seemed to be fighting with it. All in a moment, to Tressady's astonishment, she recalled the conversation to the point where it had turned aside. "And you think--you _really_ think"--her voice had a nervous appealing note--"that even at this eleventh hour--No, I don't understand!--I _can't_ understand!--why, or how you should still think it possible to change things enough!" He felt a sting of pleasure, and the passing sense of hurt pride was soothed. At least he had conquered her attention, her curiosity! "I am sure that anything might still happen," he said stubbornly. "Well, only let it be settled!" she said, trying to speak lightly, "else there will be nothing left of some of us." She raised her hand, and pushed back her hair with a childish gesture of weariness, that was quite unconscious, and therefore touching. As she spoke, indeed, the thought of a strong man harassed with overwork, and patiently preparing to lay down his baffled task, and all his cherished hopes, captured her mind, brought a quick rush of tears even to her eyes. Tressady looked at her; he saw the moisture in the eyes, the reddening of the cheek, the effort for self-control. "Why do you let yourself feel it so much?" he said resentfully; "it is not natural, nor right."