Harley started. The words were the echo of his own. "We must go," he whispered to the candidate. "No one has a right to listen, even without intention, at this, their last meeting." Jimmy Grayson had already turned away, and by the faint moonlight sifting through the branches Harley saw a mist in his eyes. But their movement made a sound, and the lovers looked up.
"Did you hear a noise? What was it?" asked Helen.
"Only a lizard in the grass or a squirrel rattling the bark of a tree," replied Arthur.
They listened a moment, but they heard nothing more, save the faint stirring of the wind among the leaves and the grass.
"Are you really going, Arthur?" asked Helen, as if, approving it once, she would like now to hear him deny it.
He looked at her, his face flushing and his eyes alight, as if at last he heard her ask him to stay; but he saw in her gaze only brave resolve. She could love him, and yet she had the strength to sacrifice that love for what she considered her duty. He drew courage from her, and he lifted his head proudly, although his eyes expressed grief alone.
"Yes, I have only to start," he replied; "you know I have little to take. I make just one more public appearance in Egmont. Mr. Grayson speaks here again to-morrow night, and the committee, by some chance—a chance it must have been—has put me on the list of speakers."
"Oh, Arthur, it may be an opportunity for you!"
She was eager, flushed, her eyes flaming and uplifted to his.
"It might be, Helen, at any other time, but this is evil fortune. I am of the other party; I must speak against him—we are fair to both sides here; he will have the right of rejoinder, and you know what he is, Helen—the greatest orator in America, perhaps in all the world. No one yet has ever been able to defeat him, and what chance have I, with no experience, against the most formidable debater in existence? I should shirk it, Helen, if the people would not think me a coward."