Having thus settled matters in a satisfactory manner with Mrs. Ward and Dorothy, George sought out Ireland the next day. He passed a delicious hour with Dorothy, and they renewed the vows they had made when there was little chance of a bright future. Now the future was altogether bright, and the two built castles in the air. George was to marry Dorothy, they were to take up their residence with Lord Derrington, and George was to enter Parliament on the first opportunity. "But you must not neglect your literary work," said Dorothy; "the novel must be finished." "I hope that many novels will be finished," said George, laughing. "I will be like Beaconsfield, and write novels between whiles of politics--it will be an amusement." "Which will be the amusement?" asked Dorothy. "Both. Politics is an amusing game, and when one has time to write what one pleases, and at the pace one pleases, that is amusing also. You will be my inspiration--my Egeria." "That is very like Beaconsfield," replied Miss Ward; "he always called some unknown woman his Egeria." "I am more lucky. I know who my Egeria is." More talk of this light and fanciful kind passed. It would have sounded foolish to sensible people, but George and his beloved were so happy that they talked nonsense out of sheer lightness of heart. At the end of the hour Mrs. Ward carried off Dorothy, and George took leave of his grandfather. It was the next day that he went to see Ireland. At the door he was informed that Ireland had been very ill with his heart, and that the doctor had been called in. Nevertheless, Ireland would not obey the advice of his physician and stop in bed. He was up and dressed as usual and in his study. George entered the large bare room, papered with the gaudy advertisements, and saw his former guardian seated at his desk as usual. The man looked very ill. His large, placid face was extremely pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he even seemed to have grown lean. His clothes hung loosely on him, and he did not rise when George entered. The young man knew that Ireland must be ill to fail in this courtesy, as he was extremely punctilious. "Excuse me, George," he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness, "but I am not so well as I might be." "You are looking ill--very ill," said George, taking his seat. Ireland nodded. "I can't live long," he remarked in his heavy voice. "So the doctor informs me. My heart is extremely weak. I may die at any moment." George was shocked. "It's not so bad as that, I hope," he said. "It's as bad as it well can be. For the last few days I have deviated sadly from my usual habits. I have not taken a walk, and my system of life is quite upset. It's the beginning of the end." He paused and sighed. "You are looking well, George." "I have every reason to. Mrs. Ward has consented to my marriage." "With her daughter? How is that?" "Well, the church where my parents were married has been discovered."