Perhaps the special effort that had been necessary to
recall his thoughts to the point had given his nerves a stimulus. At any
rate, he spoke unusually well, and sat down amid the cheers of his
party, conscious that he had advanced his Parliamentary career. A good
many congratulations reached him during the evening; he "drank delight
of battle with his peers," for the division went well, and when he left
the House at one o'clock in the morning it was in a mood of tingling
exhilaration, and with a sense of heightened powers.
It was not till he reached his own room, in his mother's hushed and
darkened house, that he opened Diana's letter.
The mere sight of it, as he drew it out of his pocket, jarred upon him
strangely. It recalled to him the fears and discomforts, the sense of
sudden misfortune and of ugly associations, which had been, for a time,
obliterated in the stress and interest of politics. He opened it almost
reluctantly, wondering at himself.
"MY DEAR OLIVER,--This letter from your mother reached me
last night. I don't know what to say, though I have thought
for many hours. I ought not to do you this great injury; that
seems plain to me.
Pages:
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391