FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1511, 14 February 1901, Page 7

FICTION.

IiPpLOT pAMJAIMI

BYvRHBERT BABB

(Author of “The Mutable Many,’’ etc.)

[ALL BIGHTS' RESERVED.]

SYNOPSIS OF INSTALMENTS I TO VIII.

The reader is introduced to a travelling Bichard Stanford, who is sitting on the steps of his van, smoking. He is a man about twenty-five; years of age, with firm mouth and stubborn jaw. To him comes a horseman—the son of Hie owner of the surrounding land—who peremptorily orders him. to move on, which, after a friendly conversation, he does. Pie stops again, in a quiet hamlet, and lectures to the villagers. A beautiful lady, reclining in a boat on th© edge of a lake, is as-sailed by a rough tramp, who, in pursuit of money, is about-to carry out his threats of violence, •when Stanford is drawn to the spot by the lady’s, cries for .help, and sendls the.'?tramp eft. An interesting

conversation, ensues, which is, however, terminated by the tramp, : who, with great strategy, had silently returned, and dealt -Stanford a blow which sent

him into the water. He is rescued by some of Mrs G'reenhow’s men, and carried to the Hall, where the doctor attends him. ’ On regaining consciousness he finds the lady of the adventure by his side, and before he goes, holds a discussion. with his hostess on -the* subject of his life work. Although he hardly -.convinces her of the feasibility of Jo is ’ scheme of reformation, she is.so impresaged by bis o-wn genuineness that she offers £IOO,OOO to finance the movement, c.This, consists, in short, in the employ-

ment of a small army -of men to attack

'the constituencies at the next general ‘election. This dissolution comes at an early date, -bringing keen disappointment '-'to Stanford, for not one of his nominees in successful. Further efforts, however, on lines suggested by Mrs Greenhow, bring into existence a new party in English politics,- and every new election sees its growth in power, until Stanford is at last called to- tile premiership. That winter- the distress among the labouring ‘ classes is awfully severe, and a labour meeting in Trafalgar' Square is charged by the soldiery with what Stanford’s political opponents .term unexampled .-cruelty. The Premier frankly outlines his policy, which- naturally astounds the Ho-hse 'and' the country: Nothing like it has been heard of before; •- '. -| , = : At., pCHAPTEB x. ■' •• On Tuesday morning the Press of England could net complain that there was nothing to write about. Never had there been such a day as Monday in the British Houses of Parliament. The Premier’s speech was printed in large type in.every paper throughout tne country, arid' it is not toe much to say that it was universally condemned by the Press of the Empire. Oil the vote for fifty millions, opinion, however, was divided. There was a feverish anxiety to know what Stanford was going to do with the money, but that portion of the press which was w-ell disposed towards labour, welcomed the innovation, alwavs with the proviso that the money was to be well spent. They hoped it would not be used in any why which would tend to pauperise the labourers. of these islands, and they admitted the step was at least practical, being much more to the purpose than ' the appointment of some committee to inquire into the case of the unemployed, which had hitherto been, the usual expedient of Parliament when confronted by the labour problem. Stanford’s frank.and contemptuous distrust. of the people, was used against him ia all quarters, and the Opposition felt that if a general election could be brought on, tne young: man would find himself without a majority. It was evident to ail that Stanford intended, to- hold power as long a,s he haci a following in the House, so- the wise heads of the older parties put themselves together in order to devise means to bring about a. crisis which would deprive the Prime Minister of his majority. v When thd vote for the fifty millions had been passed, Stanford -left the House and came out through the lobby, where he was met by a messenger, who handed him a card. Stanford gave orders that the visitor should at once be shown to the Premier's .room, whefrehe would come as quickly as possible. W r hen he entered his room he found Mrs Greenhow ’waiting for him The lady rose as he entered. Stanford noticed that she was very pale, and the smile that hovered about her lips s denied (but fainthearted: She held but her hand to hifn, and said : “Well, Mr Stanford, I feel .like a-person. \yho has started an avalanche!” “Ah,”-said the. Premier, “and is appalled at the result.” “Something of that sort,’ answered l»dy. Kml‘You were present at the debate toI suppose?” asked the Premier. ■Tlf you call it a debate,” she answered, “yes, I was in the ladies’ gallery/’ ,

“And what is your opinion of the result, Mrs Gretenhow?” “I am afraid that X have been ignorantly and -heedlessly tampering- -with a -great, and complicated machine;. '■•; lou frightened me bv thq wayvyop. talked tonight. ,1 think it was dreadful; deplorable. , I think .it,.-was. extremely foolish, Mr Stanford, if you will' excuse my saying so. Have you really such a distrust of thd people as you pretend?” . Ci “Have you forgotten our first .conversation or what was practically our first conversation on this subject, Mrs Greenhow —that morning on the terrace overlooking the lake? I told,you then I did not believe in the people-, find I do not believe in them now.”

“Oh, I know you said so, but it seemed so foolish to express distrust of the people in the twentieth century when we know that all Governments take their power from the people. To express such distrust is very unusual/’ “I intend to do some very unusual things, so I begin with what you, and probably everyone else, think is foolish ; but when have you Tories had anything but distrust- of the. people ?” “We Tories, as you call us, have a I- - ways legislated for the real good of the people at large. Most of the great measures for the- relief ■of the people have been passed by Conservative Governments ” “Yes, I have often heard that before/*cried Stanford, “and granted it is true, .what is the result? The condition of the people to-day is worse than ever it was. X intend to introduce some radical imp ro vement-s. ” “But, Mr Stanford, if wise statesmen, for ages have done their best to improve the condition of the people,, how can you hope to 'accomplish good where they have failed ? How can you be sure that

your meddling will not make matteis worse ? Lock at the condition of England to-day, and that, not- because anything lias been clone, but merely because of a threat to do something. _lf tne rumour of change has had such disastrous results, what will the changes themselves do ?” - -

‘Well, as matters can’t be made worse, I hope for great improvement. The darkest hour is before the dawn, and that vou know, Mrs Greenhow, is an ancient adage. To state a fact that X don’t believe has ever been controverted by the scientists: When a patient is at his worst, he begins to improve.” “Yes,” said Mrs Greenhow, shaking her head, “or he dies.” “But death is preferable to some states of existence.”

“Then you are resolved to either kill or cure your patient?”

■“Exactly'-” . . , “And which is it going to be. Mr Stanford? That’s what I’m anxious about.” “Oh, there is no question about that. I think we are going to cure the patient. He may imagine his treatment rough at first, perhaps, but it will all be for bis good.” “Do you really think so?” t “Of course, or I could not go forward."

The lady did not meet his eager gaze, but cast her eyes on the floor. She stood before him silent for some moments, then Stanford said: “Won’t you sit down, Mrs Greenhow? And may I offer you some refreshment? It is late in the dav for tea, but anything in the House I shall he pleased to get, tor you. What shall T order? I confess I am thirsty myself, for over-talking, as X did in tiie TXouso, is hot work, so what shall I order?” “I think, late as it is, I will have some tea. My nerves are a little shaken tonight, I am.afraid.” Stanford gave the necessary order, and then, looking across at his visitor, said :

“X fear you are displeased with me, Mrs Greenhow, and X hope you. will tell me just what is on your mind. While I was s-peaking I found my seif wishing you were in the Gallery to hoar what was being said, not only by myself, but by tii© otliers* Agw that you have- been there, tell me what you think of it all.” “Tell” said the lady, with seme hesitation, “I’ll tell you wliat occurred to me while X was listening to you. It seemed to me that- yen were a man that didn't care ; that you were riding recklessly, quite without regard to yourself or to others. I hope you will forgive me for saying it, but you appeared to me to be a man of tremendous personal ambition, who thought only of making your power felt, and who cared nothing for the people for whom you are supposed to be working. Now uo you care r 1” “I do care. I care for nothing else upon earth so much except perhaps for one thing, as to> improve the condition of the* people.” “And: what- is that one tiling?” asked Mrs Greenhow, glancing up at' him. As she looked at him a bright colour lit up his face, and Mrs Greenhow regretted she had asked the question, but lie only replied: ‘•I shall tell you that some other day. I have absolutely no personal ambition ~ I have no* desire for any honour that .mv Sovereign can bestow upon me, nor do I care to be known even as the man who lias inaugurated these great- changes in England, but I have a hope that such honour will rest upon you, and that I shall be perhaps recognised as the instrument through which the. changes were effected-”

Mrs Greenhow shook her head as he said this.

I’m afraid, I’m afraid,” she said. “Peo-

pie say there win be a revolution ia En«'Jana it these measures of yours are adopted. -*■

no Wl |l revolt ?”~ asked Stanford. f cois as the people undoubtedly are, cney are not -such jibbering idiots as to ngnt because they are put back into their own again. W lio, .then, would revel t ? ih'e aristocracy ? I would smash their revolt m fifteen, minutes with the police alone.

‘ can t treat- the aristocracy,” said Mrs Greenhow, looking up at- him, “as .you did those unfortunate wretches in Trafalgar Square.”

“Can’t X ? Just, let them try. Oh, no, Mrs Greenhow, there won’t be any revolution, and there won’t be any bloodshed. We have heard this talk before, but it has. never come off. The House of Lords is always going to do something dreadful, b-Ujt they are a very estimable body of old gentlemen, too fond of their own comfort, and too good judges of wine to care about making outlaws of themselves. No, much as I shoidd like to see it, there will be no revolution, Mrs Greenhow.”

“What are you going to do with the money, if yon get it, Mr Stanford?” “If I .get- it ? Why, the bill passed the House to-night, and I have practically got it .”

“Yes, but there are the Lords, you know.”

“The Lords! They have nothing to do with the question of supply, or the finances of the country.” “Don’t be too sure of it.”

“Well, X am sure of it. They won’ not be, silly as they are, so indescribably foolish as that. Nothing would please me better than to have them throw out the bill for the relief of the unemployed. It would do more than anything else to help stop the panic which the labouring people seem to be in. I hope they will throw out the bill; it. will, merely delay us a day or two longer.” / •

“Bat- they may not- throw it out,” said Mrs Greenhow. “Suppose they discuss it for the next three months?'’ Stanford’s eyes nearly closed and ' a hard, steely glitter came into [hem. “Are you speaking from, the card now, Mrs Greenhow? Have you had any hint of such a thing?” “Oh, no, no,” cried tire lady, “do not think X am speaking for anyone but myself-” “Then when you asked me what I was going to do with the money, .you were not speaking for the Opposition?” “No, I was not. I only wanted to know what your plans were. I will tell them to nobody, if you will permit ma to know them.” ' ‘‘Very well. You see lam telling.them to you when I would not reveal them to the Hons© of Commons. Yo l u, see what a power you have over me, Mrs Greenhow; I hope you will use ,mercifully!” “Oh, you, must not tell me unless you want to. X have heard it said that you have ho definite ideas about the money, but hoped to use it as an. immense corruption fund in case a General Election came on again, which everybody says must- bo the case within, the next two or three weeks/’ . - “All! I hoped I had made it plain when the next election would bo. As to the money, I intend to use it to reclaim a large quantity of land which is now under water on tne East coast. Holland has shown us how to do- that, and there are hundreds .of acres to be had. cut of that bay called the Wash. That, X- expect will absorb nearly all the nnemployed in this country. And to those who are mechanics, X intend to' give the regeneration of London. X want to pull down all the old unsanitary buildings and erect good ones in their places.. lam a . believer in land, as you know, and X want to give England more land and better houses.” ~ I *. “Won’t a reclamation of the Wash cost more than it will be worth ?” “X don’t know, and for my purposes, X don’t care. X will see, as *X said in Parliament, that, every able-bodied man, who is willing to work, shall -have work. X intend that the unemployed and starvaU tion shall go out- of fashion.” “And' how about bankrupting the. couatry, as that man said? You spoke as if you didn’t care whether- the British people drifted into bankruptcy or not. You surely were not in earnest when - ---o-u said that ?” “T don’t know that I care, but X don’t intend that it shall drift- into bankruptcy. The land, as it at present exists, can .produce enough- to feed every man, woman and child on these islands, if properly tilled, and I intend that it shall be so tilled. Here is England, a fertile island in the ocean. Look on it as a ship adrift, Imagine a ship adrift- on the ocean with plenty to feed everybody, and yet the great bulk of the passengers starving, while many have mere than they can eat. The vast majority must starve -or pick np what- it can get. It is monstrous, outrageous, and how a- woman can defend the present state of things I do not comprehend.” “Oh, I am not defending it, Mr Stanford, I am anxious, and just a little bit afraid. You seemed to kYk so roeklesslv tills afternoon that I lost confidence, but hearing you speak to. me in private again has restored it to me. Why can’t you talk in Parliament "as you. do to. me?” Stanford laughed and said :

“There is a great difference, you know; X am no believer in talk at all. You see, my clear iadjy, I am not going to be able through any eloquence i may have to persuade anybody that what X think rUb t is right; therefore, Xam going to force these measures through the House with the mechanical majority I have at my back, if X talked from now till Doomsday, I would not- foe able to convince- a single member of the Opposition • that my way of thinking was right. These things have been talked of and talked of for ages, but nothing has been done. Now, X intend to do something. Perhaps it will all end in disaster; X don’t know. W e can’t be sure of anything upon earth, but I do know that what- has already been .clone, and all the talk that has been listened to in. the House of Commons, has left a result as bad as at the beginning. Therefore, I am willing to risk disaster and to stand' my share of it in order to try to accomplish something. If I don’t succeed in driving starvation but of the land, then I shall not, ah least, have snatched anybody else’s crust, and X shall ask no person to feed* me whether that person goes hungry or not, -X will kayo to take my chances and the landowners have to take theirs. They have had a long, long innings. People talk glibly, as Bond! did this afternoon, about what we owe our country, and our loyalty to the. country, but what loyalty does a man owe to the country which allows him to starve during his hopeless, despairing search for work; that allots his wife and children to die for want of bread; that sends him and Them, at last, when his work is done, to a pauper’s home in? the poorhouse. Damn such a country, I sav!” And Stanford brought his closed fist down on the table with a force that made the tea cups jingle.

“Oh, Mr Stanford! ’’ cried Mrs Greenhow, shocked at his expression, and rising to her feet. ,

“I heg your pardon,” said . Stanford, also rising. /‘That is language? which shofuSdi be used only in the Souse of .Commons, - I hope.; ydit are; not angry, with me/’ : l - ,pj. _ “I know ! ought ;to be,” she answered, “but Fm. afraid I-m not. Good-evening! ”

and she held out her hand to him and

was gone

(To be Continued.')