A few weeks after this the long-expected vacancy in the Hough division occurred, and Goddard was definitely chosen as the Radical candidate. In the very beginning of his electoral campaign he received news from London that the terrible drink illness had fallen upon his wife. CHAPTER XII--A LEADER OF MEN “Do you think it wise for me to go in?” asked Goddard. “She has been asking for you,” said the nurse. “It may do her good; but don’t speak to her.” “Then she has definitely turned the corner.” “Yes; at last. But her recovery depends upon absolute quiet. It is the heart now. A sudden excitement, and then”--she snapped her fingers--“syncope.” “That is to say--sudden death.” “Of course,” said the nurse. “I shall merely sit by her side for ten minutes,” said Daniel. “You are sure it will please her?” “It will be a sign of forgiveness,” said the nurse. She sighed. “Ah! poor thing! I’ll go and prepare her.” Goddard sat down wearily in the stiffly furnished drawing-room to await his summons, and rested his head in his hands. He was very tired. The strain, mental and physical, of the past three months had told upon him. His face was worn and yellow, and his eyes were rather too bright for health. A strange thing for him, he had been driven to seek medical advice for insomnia. The prescription was immediate rest and change. He shrugged his shoulders. After the election, perhaps. Intense political feeling prevailed in the division. Goddard’s influence was such as to leave none lukewarm. The conflict was raging fiercely. One of the heaviest polls on record was anticipated. The strain of candidature would have been great in ordinary circumstances. Coming as it did upon an already over-worked man, it was dangerous. And then there was Lizzie’s illness. He had already come to town several times to satisfy himself that all was being done for her that money and skill could accomplish. It had been a matter of feverish anxiety lest any act of omission on his part should endanger her recovery.