contraction passed across his face once more. Were his thoughts taking
him back to the memorable summer evening at the Hampstead villa? Did
he see the deserted woman swooning at his feet again? "About your
election?" he asked, impatiently. "My mind is not used to be idle. Give
it something to do."

Julius stated his position as plainly and as briefly as he could.
The father found nothing to object to in the report--except the son's
absence from the field of action. He blamed Lady Holchester for
summoning Julius to London. He was annoyed at his son's being there, at
the bedside, when he ought to have been addressing the electors. "It's
inconvenient, Julius," he said, petulantly. "Don't you see it yourself?"

Having previously arranged with his mother to take the first opportunity
that offered of risking a reference to Geoffrey, Julius decided to "see
it" in a light for which his father was not prepared. The opportunity
was before him. He took it on the spot.

"It is no inconvenience to me, Sir," he replied, "and it is no
inconvenience to my brother either. Geoffrey was anxious about you too.
Geoffrey has come to London with me."

Lord Holchester looked at his eldest son with a grimly-satirical
expression of surprise.

"Have I not already told you," he rejoined, "that my mind is not
affected by my illness? Geoffrey anxious about me! Anxiety is one of the
civilized emotions. Man in his savage state is incapable of feeling it."

"My brother is not a savage, Sir."