Marese, the moment he had an opportunity, did not lose this chance either. In a letter, which Violet was permitted to read, he gradually and by degrees approached the subject of the mortgages and other encumbrances upon the Lechester estates. Instead of being an obstacle, this very fact, he argued, was one reason why their union was singularly appropriate. At the same moment that her family and connections gave him a position for which otherwise he might have striven in vain, his wealth (Marese always kept up the belief in others that he was, even at present, extremely wealthy) would free those ancient estates, and restore them to their pristine splendour. Then came a brief telegram, announcing that he had won the representation of Stirmingham by a majority of 1000 votes. Agnes was visibly elated. She moved with a prouder step—there was a slight flush upon her usually pale cheek. It was a proof of his genius—of that godlike genius which commands men. He possessed the same qualities which in the ages past had made the Lechesters members of the ruling race. Violet saw that the balance bowed in his favour. If he were to come now—and he did come. Scarcely three days after the election, Marese drove up to The Towers, and was received with a stately courtesy—a proud indifference which bewildered Violet. She knew, or thought she knew, that Agnes’s heart was beating with excitement—yet how calm, how distant and formal she appeared. Violet looked with interest upon Marese, having heard so much of him from Aymer and Agnes. On his part, meeting her attentive gaze and hearing her name, Marese slightly started, recovered himself, and bowed profoundly. His attention was wholly bestowed upon Lechester; the conversation between them seemed to Violet constrained and cold to the last degree. She could not help acknowledging that Marese was a handsome man—far handsomer in features and figure than was Aymer. But how different! In her heart of hearts she pitied poor Agnes if such was her choice.