and Clayton had actually closed with his
antagonist. The table sat with gaze rivetted
on the combatants—only Miss Martindale
looked down. Perhaps she had a stake in
the result which she was unwilling to betray.

Mr. Dixit felt that now, if ever, he must
shake off Clayton's gripe. The trial was not
only one of skill, but of strength. He could
not trip up this man; he would lift him from
the ground, and throw him. "A dictator,"
he cried, "does not stoop to explain. He
wields the power of a strong mind over a
common one."

"But he must first prove himself strong.
He must, at least, have his army and police,
to put down question. If not, we may
suspect him to be only a stage-king. And, even
as a stage-king, he must know how to act
majesty, otherwise we shall see at once that
his diamonds are glass, and doubt if he have
paid the supers who bear up his cotton
velvet."

"This is insult!" exclaimed Dixit.

"No," rejoined the other. "If you be a
real monarch, it does not apply to you; if a
sham one, you made the application
yourself."

"Ha! ha! ha!" from the table in general.
Clasped hands and eyes that apostrophised
the ceiling, on the part of Lady Ursula.

"Sir!" shouted Dixit, forgetting all decorum
in his excitement, "there are opinions
that we do not answer, because they outrage
us. Their safety lies not in their strength,
but in their repulsiveuess. They do not
conquer, they disgust. Your pleas for crime
were of this kind."

"My pleas for reforming criminals, you
should say."

"The same thing, sir. I know what this
spurious philanthropy comes to."

"Yes, yes," from Lady Ursula, her arms
extended in wonder and delight.

"I know what it comes to," Dixit went on.
"It means sympathy with wretches, and
indifference to society. You would abolish
hanging, I don't doubt?"

Clayton smiled.

"And trust, instead"—here Mr. Dixit's
sneer was withering—"to education—to the
gradual results of moral influence."

"Perhaps so."

"Ha! ha! ha!—you admit it! And, in
the meantime—mark, gentlemen—in the
meantime, I might be murdered!"

"Perhaps so; no great reform was ever
effected without some trifling inconvenience
at the beginning."

The roof did not fall in; the walls did not
give way. If they shook, it was with the
laughter of the audience.

Mr. Dixit had before resembled Coriolanus
in putting down the mob. He was now
disposed to emulate that illustrious Roman
when driven into exile. He stood at bay
with the revolters. "I disdain alike, sir,"
said he, "your coarse effrontery and the taste
of your admirers. I beg to decline giving
any further encouragement to either."

He spoke. I confess, I softened to the
great man in his disgrace. He looked it in
the face proudly. "I banish you!" was
the thought visible to all, as he drew his
coat around him. It was only a coat; but
the action would have suited a toga. He
turned; he strode away; he was gone!

A solemn pause.

"And this is what you have brought upon
us!" burst forth Lady Ursula to Clayton.
"On your account Mr. Dixit will withdraw
himself from us all."

"Pardon me; I scarcely aspired to be a
public benefactor," returned Clayton.

Here the fickle public hilariously testified
to the merits of its deliverer.

"Sir," continued Lady Ursula, with bitterness,
"a sneer is not an argument. It is easy
to be impertinent; but I want to hear reason.
What have you to say?"

"That he who has a lady for his opponent,
loses, even if he wins."

"Mere evasion," cried his fair adversary,
vehemently. "I ask for an answer. Please to
forget that I am a lady! "

"On the contrary, madam, I am sure you
will assist me to remember it."

Clayton said this with an accent so
courteous, and a bow so profound, that Lady
Ursula did not at first perceive how very
possible it was that she might be taken at her
word. I think, however, that an inkling of
this danger gradually broke upon her. She
rose suddenly from her seat, walked to the
French window that opened upon the
terrace, and disappeared. For more than a
week afterwards, Lady Ursula kept her room.

From the aforesaid window we soon
discerned the Doctor's brougham dashing with
unwonted velocity towards the park gates.
The impetuous, overbearing vehicle, which
took all the curves of the road at angles, and
thundered down upon alarmed pedestrians,
suggested, by a natural association of ideas,
that Mr. Dixit might be on his travels.
When this random guess was turned into
certainty; when we learned that the putter-down
was indeed hurrying on to secure the
next train; devoutly did we wish the coachman
good speed.

He was in time. He had driven away
with an incubus that rolled from our hearts
in the same degree that the carriage lessened
to our eyes. He came back to us with an
empty brougham, an honest, cheerful
servant, quite unconscious of the moral debt we
owed him. But, from that moment, we grew
sociable and happy. Whether the sun felt
really more free to do his best, now that he
was secure from intimidation, or that we saw
him with more hopeful eyes, he seemed to
shine next morning with unprecedented
splendour. Silent people found their tongues;
timid people ventured to have opinions;
repressed humourists had their jokes. We had