Love is Triumphant Read Free

well-informed."
    "Which is another crime in a woman," she reminded him.
    "With your background you could hardly be anything else. I think your father was already in Parliament when you were born, wasn't he?"
    "Yes, he won his seat in '46, and I was born four years later. I hardly saw Papa on my second birthday because it coincided with election night.
    "And nobody ever talked about anything else but politics in our house," she continued. "And Uncle William is Papa's friend."
    The man she so casually referred to as 'Uncle William' was in fact William Ewart Gladstone, leader of the Liberal Party.
    "And 'Uncle William' will win the coming election and be Prime Minister," Sir John supplied. "At least, that is what we must all hope and work for. He's a great man, a great reformer. He sees what's wrong with this country and he thinks – "
    'Oh heavens!' Rosina thought. 'This isn't what I want to hear at this moment.'
    But she could see that Sir John was fired with enthusiasm, and she didn't want to say or do anything that would bring the time with him to an end – even if he was the most annoying man she had ever known. So she listened carefully and made intelligent observations, and at last he said,
    "It was nice of you to listen to me. I've managed to get several ideas sorted out in my head."
    "I'm glad," she said politely.
    Inwardly she sighed. She would much rather he tell her that she was pretty, and her eyes were like stars.
    But later, she promised herself. Later. When she was eighteen.
    "I can't wait to leave school," she said, "and be part of all the excitement."
    "It is going to be an exciting time," he agreed. "Here are the letters from your parents. I think you'll find they have a lot to say about plans for the summer. Your mother told me you were all thinking of going to Italy."
    "Oh, I'm sure that's all off now," she said cheerfully. "Who could possibly want to go to Italy, when they could get pelted on the hustings instead?"
    "That's the spirit," he told her, clapping her heartily on the shoulder. "Well, I must be going now. I dare say we'll bump into each other again during the course of the election campaign."
    "I'm sure we will," she said politely.
    'Otherwise,' she thought, 'you won't give me another thought until the Liberals have won. And then you'll probably have a government job and think of me even less.'
    As they walked back to the school building they came in sight of the wing where Rosina had her room, two floors up. Looking up, she saw Miss Draycott standing on the balcony outside her window. The teacher waved cheerfully when she saw Rosina, and pointed to the watch on her wrist.
    "That's Miss Draycott," Rosina told Sir John. "She's reminding me that I have a music lesson with her in about five minutes."
    "Then I'll leave you here," he said. "Please say goodbye to the Headmistress for me."
    He gave her a little bow, and departed.
    Rosina looked up to Miss Draycott on the high balcony, waved back, and began to hurry into the building.
    Miss Draycott wasn't like other teachers. She was very pretty, and only about twenty-five. Her room was next door to Rosina's, and it had been easy for them to become close friends.
    Gradually the age gap between them had seemed to vanish, and at last Miss Draycott had confided in Rosina about the man she loved. His name was Arthur Woodward and he was ambitious to enter politics and get to the top.
    To the young Rosina the whole story was wildly romantic. More thrilling still was being allowed to read some of his letters with their expressions of love and passion.
    "Oh, how I hope that someday a wonderful man will write to me like this," she mused.
    At that moment she was not thinking particularly of Sir John. She enjoyed the mild, exciting infatuation she felt for him, but she knew it was not the overwhelming love that she hoped to find some day.
    When that day came, it seemed to her that to receive such declarations of devotion must be the pinnacle of any woman's