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She laughed--with a
very tender cadence in her laughter.
"It would not be worth your while, my boy," she said "You know I have
often told you that I do not see any great distinction in being a member
of Parliament at all. What will you do? You will talk to the fat brewer
perhaps, and he will contradict you--then other people will get up and
talk and contradict each other,--and so it will go on for days and
days--meanwhile the country remains exactly as it was, neither better
nor worse,--and all the talking does no good! It is better to be out of
it,--here together, as we are to-day."
And she raised her dreamy blue eyes to the sheltering canopy of green
leaves that overhung them--leaves thick-clustered and dewy, through
which the dazzling sky peeped in radiant patches. Philip looked at
her,--the rapt expression of her upward gaze,--the calm, untroubled
sweetness of her fair face,--were such as might well have suited one of
Raffaelle's divinest angels. His heart beat quickly--he drew closer to
her, and put his arm round her.


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