‘I should think so,’ said the Baronet.
‘And the borough is Liberal?’
‘Most decidedly.’
‘And you have a good chance of success?’
‘Yes; if it were not for the publicans, who have great influence, and are bitterly opposed to the Liberals.’
‘Naturally; their craft is in danger. Well, I might run down to one or two of your meetings.’
‘Thanks; I’m much obliged. I thought about having a public meeting next week. There is no time to lose. It is a great thing to be first in the field.’
Just as Wentworth was about to reply, the door opened, and the actress rushed in. Suddenly perceiving that Wentworth had company, she exclaimed:
‘I beg pardon. I thought you were alone.’
‘Never mind, madam,’ said the Baronet; ‘we have just finished what we had to say,’ turning to address the last comer. All at once he faltered, and turned all the colours of the rainbow. Could it be? Yes, it was the poor girl he had brought up to London, and then deserted—left, as he coolly supposed, to perish on the streets, and whom, to his surprise, he had seen radiant on the stage.