“His neighbors and constituents!” thought Diana, in a young astonishment.  “The people who send him to Parliament!”

Mr. Ferrier seemed to become aware of her surprise and disapproval, for he once or twice threw in a satirical word or two, at the expense, not of the criticised, but of the critics.  The well-known Leader of the Opposition was a stout man of middle height, with a round head and face, at first sight wholly undistinguished, an ample figure, and smooth, straight hair.  But there was so much honesty and acuteness in the eyes, so much humor in the mouth, and so much kindness in the general aspect, that Diana felt herself at once attracted; and when the master of the house was summoned by his head gamekeeper to give directions for the shooting-party of the following day, and Mrs. Fotheringham had gone off to attend what seemed to be a vast correspondence, the politician and the young girl fell into a conversation which soon became agreeable and even absorbing to both.  Mrs. Colwood, sitting on the other side of the hall, timidly discussing fancy work with the Miss Varleys, Lady Lucy’s young nieces, saw that Diana was making a conquest; and it seemed to her, moreover, that Mr. Ferrier’s scrutiny of his companion was somewhat more attentive and more close than was quite explained by the mere casual encounter of a man of middle-age with a young and charming girl.  Was he—­like herself—­aware that matters of moment might be here at their beginning?

Meanwhile, if Mr. Ferrier was making discoveries, so was Diana.  A man, it appeared, could be not only one of the busiest and most powerful politicians in England, but also a philosopher, and a reader, one whose secret tastes were as unworldly and romantic as her own.  Books, music, art—­he could handle these subjects no less skilfully than others political or personal.  And, throughout, his deference to a young and pretty woman was never at fault.  Diana was encouraged to talk, and then, without a word of flattery, given to understand that her talk pleased.  Under this stimulus, her soft dark beauty was soon glowing at its best; innocence, intelligence, and youth, spread as it were their tendrils to the sun.

Meanwhile, Sir James Chide, a few yards off, was apparently absorbed partly in the Times, partly in the endeavor to make Lady Lucy’s fox terrier go through its tricks.

Once Mr. Ferrier drew Diana’s attention to her neighbor.

“You know him?”

“I never saw him before.”

“You know who he is?”

“Ought I?—­I am so sorry!”

“He is perhaps the greatest criminal advocate we have.  And a very distinguished politician too.—­Whenever our party comes in, he will be in the Cabinet.—­You must make him talk this evening.”

“I?” said Diana, laughing and blushing.

“You can!” smiled Mr. Ferrier.  “Witness how you have been making me chatter!  But I think I read you right?  You do not mind if one chatters?—­if one gives you information?”