During the last months of Parliament, Lankester had seen a good deal of Oliver. The story of Diana, and of Marsham's interrupted wooing was by that time public property, probably owing to the indignation of certain persons in Brookshire. As we have seen, it had injured the prestige of the man concerned in and out of Parliament. But Lankester, who looked at life intimately and intensely, with the eye of a confessor, had been roused by it to a curiosity about Oliver Marsham--whom at the time he was meeting habitually on political affairs--which he had never felt before. He, with his brooding second sight based on a spiritual estimate of the world--he and Lady Lucy--alone saw that Marsham was unhappy. His irritable moodiness might, of course, have nothing to do with his failure to play the man in the case of Miss Mallory. Lankester was inclined to think it had--Alicia Drake or no Alicia Drake. And the grace of repentance is so rare in mankind that the mystic--his own secret life wavering perpetually between repentance and ecstasy--is drawn to the merest shadow of it. These hidden thoughts on Lankester's side had been met by a new and tacit friendliness on Marsham's. He had shown an increasing liking for Lankester's company, and had finally asked him to come down and help him in his constituency. By George, if he married that girl, he would pay his penalty to the utmost! Lankester leaned out of window again, his eyes sweeping the dreary park. In reality they had before them Marsham's aspect at the declaration of the poll--head and face thrown back defiantly, hollow eyes of bitterness and fatigue; and the scene outside--in front, a booing crowd--and beside the new member, Alicia's angry and insolent look. The election represented a set-back in a man's career, in spite of the bare victory. And Lankester did not think it would be retrieved. With a prophetic insight which seldom failed him, he saw that Marsham's chapter of success was closed. He might get some small office out of the Government. Nevertheless, the scale of life had dropped--on the wrong side. Through Lankester's thought there shot a pang of sympathy. Defeat was always more winning to him than triumph. * * * * * Meanwhile the new member himself was in no melting mood. Forbes was right. Marsham, in his room, looking over the letters which his servant had brought him, was only conscious of two feelings--disgust and loathing with regard to the contest just over, and a dogged determination with regard to the future. He had been deserted by the moderates--by the Ferrierites--in spite of all his endeavors to keep within courteous and judicial bounds; and he had been all but sacrificed to a forbearance which had not saved him apparently a single moderate vote, and had lost him scores on the advanced side.