Denzil went with him out into the road.
"I could see you were not well," he said, kindly. "I want to have a
long and very serious talk with you; it must wait till after
to-morrow. You know, of course, what I have on my mind. Come and
hear my balderdash if you are all right again."
All the next day Denzil was in extravagant spirits. In the morning
he made a show of shutting himself up to meditate the theme of his
discourse, but his sister presently saw him straying about the
garden, and as soon as her household duties left her at leisure she
was called upon to gossip and laugh with him. The Polterham Examiner
furnished material for endless jesting. In the midst of a flow of
grotesque fancies, he broke off to say:
"By-the-bye, I shall have to run over to Paris for a few weeks."
"What to do there?"
"A private affair. You shall hear about it afterwards."
And he went on with his mirthful fantasia. This mood had been
frequent with him in earlier years, and his sister was delighted to
see that he preserved so much of youth. After all, it might be that
he had found his vocation ere it was too late. Certainly he had the
gift of speech, and his personality was not a common one. He might
strike out a special line for himself in Parliament. They must make
his election a sure thing.
The lecture was at eight. About seven, Mr.
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