Still silent, still with eyes averted, she held out her hand towards him. Something cold clicked against the palm, something long and thin. She opened her fingers, and beheld a morphia syringe.
“I—I shan’t need it any more,” stammered the voice. A hand, Lowther’s hand, came over her shoulder, mutely making appeal. Lilith dropped the syringe, and caught the hand to her breast.
The next minute he was kneeling at her feet, and the two were gazing deep into each other’s eyes.
“Lilith,” cried Lowther brokenly, “it—it will be hard... I shall have a hard fight. Do you think you could love me a little, Lilith?”
“I must love you,” answered Lilith deeply, “a great deal, or it will be no use!”
It was five years later when the Opposition came into power, and it surprised nobody when Hereward Lowther was given a seat in the Cabinet. During those five years husband and wife had lived quietly in their little flat, going but little into society, affecting few of the amusements of the day. When Parliament was sitting, Lilith was a constant visitor to the Ladies’ Gallery, and it was noted that her husband never spoke when she was absent. In holiday time her chief interest lay in the study of the problems of modern life; but, as on that first tour abroad, she studied first-hand, and not through the medium of books. Lowther felt it an extraordinary coincidence that her inquiries so often proved of value to himself, and always, under every circumstance, Lilith’s immovable serenity was as a rock, against which his weaker, more excitable nature found support. Lowther questioned himself sometimes as to the explanation of his wife’s unshaken calm, and came to the conclusion that it sprang from a certain obtuseness or stupidity of brain, but he smiled as he mentally voiced the thought, and his smile was tender. He loved his wife; she was a dear girl, tactful, unassuming. He was thankful that she was not clever.
Five years spread a kindly veil over the public memory, and there were few people who troubled to recall Lowther’s temporary lapse. That was an affair of the past. What mattered now was that he was one of the most brilliant and valuable men in the House, and that the country needed his services. As a politician he was able and statesmanlike, but he was a politician second and a patriot first. The glory of office counted for nothing with him in comparison with the glory of his native land, and the country recognised his honesty and loved him for it. He was a member of the Cabinet now, but as certainly as he lived he would be Prime Minister another day. As he walked through the streets the people pointed him out to each other.
“That’s Lowther. Our best man. He’ll be Prime Minister before he’s done. The sooner the better. A straight, fair man. The man we want. What a position for a man to gain by sheer personal force—the virtual ruler over a fifth part of the world! What power, my dear fellow—what power!”
“You may say so, indeed; extraordinary power!”