TALES AND SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6132, 19 March 1898, Page 1

TALES AND SKETCHES.

THE FIGHT FOR THE CROWN. [By W; E. Nobbis.] Author of "My Friend Jim," "Misadventure," "Harcia," '■' Baffled Conspirators," "Matrimony/* "Saint Ann's," "A Dancer in Yellow," ' r No New Thing," &c, &o. (All Bights Reserved.) Chapter XXIX. THE REWARD OS 1 INDEPENDENCE. Listening, day after day, and night after night, to the progress of the debate upon the second reading of the Irish Government Bill, Wilfrid waa struck by the unreality of the contest in which he was engaged. It was unreal, he thought, inasmuch as its ostensible seemed almost to have dropped out of sight. Other, and possibly weightier, issues were no donbt involved j it was becoming, and indeed had already become, a question whether the great Liberal party of the Victorian era was to survive the battle or breathe its last upon the battlefield. But these party questions had never possessed much interest for him, nor did he see how he could be expected to vote against his conscience and convictions for the sake of helping to bring about a mere party victory. And he really did not think that his conscience or his convictions would allow him to support a » measure which appeared to him to be in many respects unsound, and with which its own author was not eager to persevere. The leader of the Opposition, this uncertain Ministerialist considered, hit the nail upon the head when he accused Mr Gladstone of trifling with Parliament, and reminded the Premier of his own previous warnings against the danger of putting forward schemes which " might mean anything or nothing," which might " concilate the feelings of the people of Ireland for a moment and attract a passing breath of popularity, but which, when the day of trial came, would be found utterly to fail." Surely, too, he was in the right when he demanded "something like a real definition of the Prime Minister's policy." Not without long fencing was that definition extorted from the occupants of the Treasury bench; but when at last the information was elicited that the Queen was to be advised to prorogue Parliament, it became evident that the House had nothing but an abstract resolution before It. The Bill was dead, and there was, therefore, little to be gained by attacking or defending its provisions. Well, it is possible, of course, for an honest man to vote in favour of an abstract principle, and Wilfrid EUes, for one, would have been prepared to vote for the principle that Ireland was entitled to selfgovernment in some shape or form ; but. when it transpired that those who upheld the present scheme would be looked upon as pledged to do so again, on its're-intro-duction in practically identical terms, he mentally laid back his ears. Like many other members who were known or suspected to be hesitating, he was pestered by the threats and cajoleries of wire-pullers, and these went not of a nature to produce the desired eii'act upon him. , ;. ... "The long and the short of it," he was provoked into remarking to one of his counsellors, " is that you want what you call our Bide to win, and you will stigmatise me as a traitor if I don t play up to the best of my humble. ability for our side. But that sort of thing doesn't appeal to me in the least. I don't care a rap about sides, and if I think a Bill bad or unworkable as it stands, I must give my vote against it." On being reminded that he had been sent up to Parliament as an adherent of the cause which he now seemed to claim the privilege of opposing, Wilfrid declared, truly enough, that he had given his constituents no unconditional pledge whatsoever. "If they are dissatisfied with me, they shall have the earliest possible opportunity of expressing their dissatisfaction. I can't say yet whether I shall vote for the second reading or not, because I don't know; all! do know is that I am not going to be bullied by anybody." But it was in truth very nearly certain by this time that he would join the ranks of the malcontent Liberals. Whatever his constituents might be or become, he himself was profoundly dissatisfied. The difficulties and intricacies of the Irish question had of late grown much more apparent to him than in the days when he had been disposed to deem it only fairthat a race which appealed, through an overwhelmingmajorityof its representatives, for the restoration of its separate Legislature, should be granted what it asked ; ho doubted whether those difficulties and intricacies could be overcome, and he doubted still more whether any genuine effort was being made to overcome them. He was, in a word, sick of the whole insincere, complicated business, and longed to be out of it. How much better, healthier and happier to be Bhooting tigers in India, or even red deerin Scotland! This 9lightly petulant frame of mind was doubtless due, in some measure, to dissatisfaction with private, as well as public affairs. Contrary to what he had been led i to expect, Lady Virginia had not as yet mk applied to him for a report upon her ■ brother's proceedings; he had been unable "v to display the magnanimous self-abnega-tion to which he waa more or less committed, and the delay fretted him. He was, perhaps rather more willing to be magnanimous than to be ignored, and he wondered a little why her ladyship persisted iv ignoring him. It might have been expected that, at such a juncture, she would see the advisability of keeping a friendly eye upon him, and encouraging him by friendly admonitions to nail hia GHadatonian colours to the mast. Either because she believed such admonitions to be superfluous, or because she had other reasons for wishing to hold the young legislator temporarily at arm's length. Lady Virginia made no sign, and I Wilfrid was left to grapple unaided with a problem which was causing many; heartsearchings amongst those who sat near him. The debate— protracted no doubt, pa strategic grounds— dragged on after it had lost all interest for one of its impatient auditors ; yet on its twelfth and concluding night, by which time he wa3 resolved to vote against it, two speeches went near to throwing him back into indecision. The representations — cold, measured, and moderate, a3 usual— of Mr Parnell did not fail to produce some effect upon him. He thought, as the Irish leader did, that coercion was the only alternative to the species* of agreement now offered; he could not but acknowledge that coercion in the past bad been a total failure ; he could not but foresee that if coercion waa to have a chance in the future, it must assume the methods of downright despotism. And to resist the second reading of this Bill, however numerous might be its inherent defects, was perhaps equivalent to advocating these methods. Then, after one or two other speakers on both sides of tee Housa had reiterated previous arguments, *ar Gladstone rose to wind up the the debate vritJi a. rhetorical appeal, ao fine and 30 persuaaive, that there was great difficulty -in listening to it unmoved. Distress, disaffection, smouldering insurrection were, he urged, chronic in Ireland becaosa " you have not got that respect for the law, and that sympathy irith the law on the part cl

the people without which real civilisation cannot exist ; " and that coercive legislation could ever produce that respect and sympathy was scarcely contended. "We do not," he continued, "undervalue or despise the forces opposed to us. * * .* I do not deny that .many are against us whom we should have expected to be for us ; Ido not deny that some whom we see against us have caused us by their conscientious action the bitterest disappointment. But you have power, you have wealth, you have rank, you have station, you have organisation, you have the place of power. What have we? We think that we have the people's heart ; we believe and we know we have the promise of the harvest of the future. * * * As to the harvest of the future, I doubt if you have so much confidence, and I believe that there is in the breast of many a man who means to vote against us to-night a profound misgiving, approaching even to a deep conviction, that the end will be as we foresee, and not as you — that the ebbing tide is with you and the flowing tide is with us." Soon afterwards came {he peroration, assisted so powerfully by the voice and personality of the speaker, in which members were exhorted to " think well, think wisely, think not for a moment but for the years that are to come, before you reject this Bill." j Wilfrid sighed, shook his shoulders, i called to memory certain inexorable, indis- 1 putable facts which no eloquence could j change, and —walked with ninety-two other ! Liberals into the "No" lobby. It could not be helped, it was impossible for him to act otherwise ; but it gave him no satisfaction to desert what, when all was said, retained the appearance of a generous effort, nor could he join in the frantic cheering which greeted the announcement of the numbers and the defeat of the Ministry by a majority of thirty. Whether, by voting as he had done, he had proclaimed himself a permanent opponent of Home Eule or not he hardly knew, but he had, at all events, helped to turn out a Home Rule Government, and nothing, he supposed, was more likely than that be himselt would promptly be turned out by the Heckingley electors for his pains. He had certainly been given to understand through local channels that such would be the consequence of a declaration of independence on his part. "So much the better !" was the first thing that he said to himself on waking the next morning. '• A man is what he is, and he only wastes time and energy when he tries to be something else. I can't make myself into a statesman, nor even into a politician because my poor old uncle < wanted me to be one. I take it that this is about the end of my brilliant political career. It only remains now to sell this ( infernal incubus of a house, pension off the servants, and fly the country." Of course that programme could not be literally carried out on the spur of the j moment ; numerous things had to be done before he would be able to claim unfettered liberty once more. Parliament ! was not yet dissolved, and most likely would not be dissolved for several months to come ; he owed something to his constituents; possibly even something to Lady Virginia Lethbridge, not to mention Nora Power and her converted rake. But, for all that, land was in Bight. Not, ,to ba sure, precisely a promised land, flowing with milk and honoy, yet one in , which a well-intentioned, bewildered mortal might hope to call his softi his own again. So after breakfast Wilfrid mounted his hor3e and rode off to the Park in somewhat better spirits than his situation ostensibly warranted. Now, it came to pass that, while he was pacing gently along Eotten Row, enjoying the soft air of a fair but cloudy summer day, he was arrested by two pedestrians, who first raised their hands to stop him and then held out those hands to be grasped. " Come, Elles— didn't I tell you so ?" was j Mr .Fitzpatrick's greeting. j It was natural that Mr Fitzpatrick should be exultant, and kind of him to make the complimentary remarks which he hastened to make; but Wilfrid had scarcely been prepared for the cordiality of Mr Power, who looked very smart, with his grey frock-coat and his eightaan-penny buttonhole, and who apologised in the fullest and handsomest manner for bygone incivilities. "My dear fellow, I ought to have known better than to misjudge you as I did. AH I can say is that I beg your pardon and respect your honesty. Small bhune to you ] if you believed in Home Eule for a time ! What do you know about Ireland ! You've ', proved to us now, though, that you're j neither a knave nor a dupe." It seemed best to accept that flattering] assurance with a smile and a slight shrug of the shoulders. When a friend with whom you have never wished to quarrel, but who has tried his best to quarrel with you, holds out the olive branch of puace, discussion and argument may as well be dispensed with. Presently Mr Fitzpatrick, who had been accosted by an acquain- 1 tance, moved away, and then Mr Power, leaning over the railings, resumed confidentially : "I'd be glad to have a talk with you, my dear boy, one of these days, if yon could spare me half an hour or so." " About politics ?" inquired Wilfrid. " God forbid ! No ; it's about my daughter Nora that I would like to consult you. For I know you wish her woll, and I can tell you that she thinks more of what you say and advise than she does of anything ithat mtiy fall from hor downtrodden old father." " I am afraid you are mistaken thoro," said Wilfrid. "No, I'm not mistaken; I know what I'm saying. And, between ourmjlvoa, I'm anxious about the girl — devilish anxious." He was so anxious, it appeared, that ho could not. defer explanations to a nioro private Bceno ami season. Wilfrid whs told how ho had loathed "this accurrfod play-acting business^" from tho first, and had only been driven by sheer lack of ready money to give his sanction to it; how he longed to see Nora woll and safely married to a man of hor own station in life, and how he had not failed to notice the attentions of Lord Soutbfield. "As good a fellow, in my opinion, as ever stepped; but " "But with a reputation which might bo bettor, from a strictly moral point of view," Wilfrid ventured to suggest. " Oh, hung tho reputation and the moral point of view !• He nua eown l)i« wild oats, I daresay, like tho rest of ua ; I think none the worse, of him for that. You may bo aura I shouldn't liavo nllov/od him to haunt my house as lie has done of Ittto if I hadn't satisfied myself tlmbli to inl;out!onu woro all they ought to bo. In fact, f <J'>n'b mind telling you that ho lnl« iiTtimutod iw mucli to mo. Not iv bo umny wonJuj »till, m plainly as wa» necwwiry." "Then, if you don't want mo to pivo L «rd SouthfieM n elifimclor, In what yaycan I be of uho to you P " Wilfrid inquired. Mr Power laid hiH hand upon lock °f Wilf rid'a horso, who promptly n '.;>'.ii(lt)<4 D y "miring a grab (it h!u imMoiilioh 1 . «i this way," }j» annvtwtd, " you can • ft, i 1 Wowl for him to Morn. Tio hiwn'b **euhei- yo fc. but ho will ftflk lior, will U» on my mimi that hlio may! ho foollnh ortoMtfh dW* himi «l'o hn« notion*) ttlx'ufc tho i g|™y winuopondonco rtmt Ktitf-HUpTmrfc— rmS^ W8 wlmt »'»''l>toh '»h1 iiG/ißOiiao 1 , ;s _ I^j^Mhoiruvy think ho i» confldMitiml-

' • **fit 5^ NOIS ANO Uo>' H «°' k1 f »UotJiig ' I »?yte aad valuo i» uawjuallod.

ing to her and send him to the rightabout. I believe that if anybody can prevail upon her not to throw away her chances of happiness like that, you can." Wilfrid could not repress a short laugh. So he — of all people ! — was expected, not only to do what in him lay towards persuading the girl whom he loved into marrying a man quite unworthy of her, but to throw dust in the eyes of that man's opposing relations ! He said to himself that it was really a large order. But to Mr Power he only said : " Surely, all depends upon whether your daughter cares for Southfield or not. If she does, she'll forgive him for seeming to condescend; if she doesn't — well, in that case, I presume you wouldn't wish her to accept him." Mr Power was convinced that she did — convinced also that the admonitions of a valued friend would suffice to overcome her misplaced scruples. So the valued friend ended by promising to take advantage of any opportunity that might be accorded to him. " Why not ?" he muttered under his breath, as he resumed his ride. "If she is I not fair to me, what care I for whose sake she may be pleased to exhibit her essentially feminine quality of unfairness ? For I do call it father unfair to set me down as ' unimaginable ' on account of my political opinions." The honest truth, perhaps, was that he did not care quite as much as he would have done some months back. There was something in Nora's assertion that he- was in love with what she had been, not with what she was, and although ho felt bound to be very sorry for himself, he was fain to acknowledge that he was not inconsolable. Only he did hope that the next thing would not be a demand from Lady Virginia upon his good offices, to protect her brother against forming a mesalliance ! Chapter XXX. LADY LAURA IS QUITE SATISFIED. "Disgusted with you? Well — naturally!" exclaimed Lady Virginia. "This comes of letting people out of one's sight for a short time, and trusting them to behave with ordinary decency ! I suppose you fully realise that you are done for now ? Heckingley, you may depend upon it, won't look at you again, and whether you will be able to find another constituency, in which political tergiversation is popular, remains to be seen. Anyhow, I can't provide you with one/ Wilfrid replied that he fully realised all that. Moreover, he rather liked it. As i for the Ilecldn^ley electors, he had not the slightest intention of begging their pardon. " You are the only person who perhaps has some little excuse for being disappointed in. me ; and even your excuse is none of the best. You must have known all along that I was a broken reed." "You aye broken now, at all events," retorted her ladyship, with a snort. But although sho had been scolding him for the best part of half an hour, he perceived that she was not in reality so very angry. The defeat of the Government did not, she declared, cause her any misgivings whatsoever ; it has been a foregone conclusion — a mere prelude to the coming triumph. " What I do regret is that you should have cut your own throat like this. I look upon iryself as your political godmother, and I daresay I might have preserved you from straying so scandalously if I hadn't been too busy with other things. Unfortunately, "one can't be everywhere. One's consolation must be that, the other things have arranged themselvo3 satisfactorily, and that tho Blnnd engagement is an accomplished fact." " What ? " ejaculated Wilfrid, aghast. He was in Tilney Street for tho double purpose of endeavouring to make his peace with his self-styled political godmother and redeem his pledge to Lord Southfield ; so that this unforeseen announcement threw him completely upon his beam ends. "Oh, yes," responded Lady Virginia tranquilly. "Didn't you see it in the papers this morning ?" Wilfrid drew a long breath. "No, I didn't see it in the papers," he answered. " I must own that your influence over your brother is — most remarkable!" " Oh, it isn't my brother — who, by the wa} r , seems bent upon giving me trouble — it's Laura and Sir Samuel.'' " You can't mean it !" "Of course I mean it, and, of course, it is the very best thing that could have happened. May one make so bold as to ask whnther you know of any just impediment ?" She was looking him smilingly in the ! face, and he was conscious of something j not entirely friendly in her gazo. Yet, j at tho risk of offending her, he ex- j claimed : ' . , •' Well, I call it downright revolting !" A delicate colour mounted into Lady j Virginia's cheeks j but she continued to , smily. " How belated of you to use such lan- j guage at this time of day !" she remarked. "If you had said thab Last summer — why didn't you say it last summer ?" ; " I don't know what you mean. " "You really can't be quite as dense as you protend to be. However, it was nothing more than a passing fancy, and she has j got over it now ; so there's no harm | done." " Who has got over what ?" " Magnall's questions aren't in it with you ! I beg to decline further examination. But seriously, it isn't revolting, and I hopo you won't say anything of that kind again. Of course, it isn't every girl who could safely marry her grandfather ; but Laura is exactly cut out for the part. I honestly believe that niosfc young'meu bore her a good deal more than poor old prosy Sir Samuel does. She will be happy with him as she has it in her to be with ! anybody. And she will be very rich." There were so many remarks upon the tip of -Wilfrid's tongue that he wisely refrained from letting any of them go farther. Pie listened while Lady Virginia, after expatiating complacently upon the vast proportions of Sir Samuel Eland's wealth, went on to confess that she was a little loss easy about her brother than she j was about her sister. " One didn't exactly want to bring off the doublo event simultaneously ; to have father and daughter espousing brother and sister on one and the same day would be a dangerous approach to farce. But it would havo been more in accordance with tuo :.hi'.«s of things for Southfield J;o speak firtjl; — i> nd he hasn't spokon yet !" " Enviable reticence," remarked Wilfrid, drily. " It's nothing of the sort! I shall not envy his filings if wo hear, some fine monxintf, lh;t,t that patient spinster has grown tired of waiting for him to make up his mind and has accepted, somebody elao. I need not tell yon that there i 3 no lack of somebody elses." , I' Pcn-hapa," suggested Wilmd, " his regret won't be as poignant as yours." ' | Lmly Virginia glanced up sharply. •• Oh, well," said she, " I see what wtfl lmvotobo done I must speak plainly to j M iaa Power. [ will say for the girl that she isn't dovoid of prill", andif Southneld were Inßuuo enough — but I know him better Hutu to boliovo that ho will ever be so mHiiuo ns to do what you aro thmk.njj rt).KMt." „ . , i.i • i • Ah a mutter of fact, Wilfrid waa thinking niioul touiebhtiiK olao nt the moment; bub now ho pulloil himself together, and called to mind tho promhWß which ho had -jio <kttW," .old 1.0, "y°» *>»» *>»»,

brother very well ; but perhaps I know Mis 3 Power ratlier better than you do, and I shouldn't advise you to rouso her pride after that fashion. You must remember that she dossn t consider herself either your inferior or Lord Southfield's, and she might be tempted to give an answer quite contrary to what one of you expects. You will admit, I daresay, that any woman can get any man to offer marriage to her if she gives her whole mind to it." ' ' Lady Virginia laughed, and then frowned, meditatively. "You would let well—or ill— alone, then?" she asked. "For the present, I should," was the Machiavellian Wilfrid's reply. "It seems to me that your brother has got his head up, and that jabbing at his mouth will do no sort of good. As for Miss Power — well, does it strike you as good policy to let her see how easily she could turn the tables upon yon, in acknowledgment of what she j will naturally look upon as your impertinence ?" He felt a little ashamed of himself afterwards for having drawn so unflattering a portrait of Nora ; but at ther.same time he did not see how he could have served Lord Southfield and Mr Power better than by speaking as he had done. Nora, herself, it might be anticipated, would neither require nor request counsel of him. She would, doubtless, do just precisely what she wanted to do — had not that been her unvarying custom ? For the rest, ho could not help being more preocctipied -with the destinies of Lady Laura Mayne than with those of Nora Power. It was impossible to misunderstand the meaning oi 1 that casual statement of Lady Virginia's which he had declared that he did not understand. That it had only been a passing fancy he was ! quite ready to believe ; still it had existed, and now — she was going to marry that odious old snob ! One can't contemplate such things — nobody can, without a certain degree of mental perturbation, and for some days after this the member for the Heckingley division found his attention continually -wandering fvom the business before the House. . That business was not, to be sure, of absorbing interest. Parliament was to be dissolved, before the end of the month, all < contentious measures had been abandoned, the proceedings were practically formal, and if Mr Elles had seen fit to absent himself, no remonstrances would have been addressed to him. He continued, however, to form one of a much reduced assemblage— partly because he had nothing else to do, partly by reason of that half-regretf nl feeling which prompts us to hang abot^t even uncongenial scenes which we must soon quit. Wilfrid was well aware that a considerable length of time was likely to elapse before he again saw the inside of the House of Commons. Lady Virginia was not so offended by what she was pleased to call his political tergiversation but that she sent him frequent little notes, requesting his presence at this or that entertainment (it dawned upon him now why these had lately been withheld) and, iv response to one of them, he found himself seated at her dinner-table on a sultry evening between Miss Bland and Lady Laura. To the former he had not much to say, while the latter, apparently had nothing to say to him. Her shoulder, from first to last, was so markedly turned towards her neighbour that he was fain to content himself with silent observation and to draw such conclusions as might suggest themselves to him from the serene complacency of her aspect. Her preposterous fiance surveyed her, across the space of glass and silver and flowers which separated them, with, the satisfied air of ono who has paid a high price for a really valuable acquisition and doesn't care who knows it. Every now and then he threw her an encouraging smile and nod to which she did not seem to object. Wilfrid, irritated, shocked, and perhaps a trifle piqued into the bargain, said to himself that women were indeed unaccountable beings. Nevertheless, he did not wish to leave the house without having accounted, upon some more or less plausible theory, for the conduct of this one, and at a later hour he was enabled to approach her in the draw-ing-room, where she had taken up her position beside one of the open windows. "I haven't had an opportunity of congratulating you yet, Lady Laura," he began. She laughed. " Oh, but you needn't do such violence to your feelings and prejudices," she replied, good-humouredly. " I told you once, as you may recollect, that I should very likely startle and horrify my friends some day. I don't forbid you to be startled aud horrified, and I ddn'fc ' expect to be congratulated. There is no occasion for you to look so compassionate, though ; I am quite satisfied. My future step-daughter is really the only cloud upon an otherwise bright horizon." "And you will soon dispose of that cloud, no doubt." , "• Si Dieu veuL' But my brother doesn't show signs of hastening to the rescue. Perhaps you might be disposed to come forward as a candidate — now that other projects have unfortunately fallen through ?" "That does not strike me as being either a very amnsing or a very kind speech," said Wilfrid. . " Doesn't it ?" returned the girl, absently " I'll withdraw it, then. Let us talk about i something else. What a stifling hot night !" But Wilfrid did not choose to be put off like that. "Why are you doing this?" he asked abruptly. " I don't believe you are •, satisfied ; I don't believe that you are happy, or that you ever can be with that old man, whom I know you despise !" Lady Laura's large, sleepy eyes flashed. For once and for a moment, she looked j thoroughly angry. But it was without any verbal display of temper that she rejoined : "Is that your notion of a kind and amusing speech ? Perhaps, after all, we had better fall back upon tlie congratulations which I declined jnst now. They weren't going to be sincere, xt seems ; but at all events they will be a little more appropriate than rebukes." Wilfrid begged her pardon, admitting that he had been impertinent. "And yet I can't imitate you by withdrawing my words. Wnen nil is said, we have been friends, yon and I, and surely ona isu't expected to look on quietly while a f rieuil niakea preparations for committing suicide ! " "One is expected to give one's friends credit for knowing their own minds, and even if they don't—" , Wilfrid opened his lips to interrupt her, but was himsolf interrupted by Lady Virginia, who flitted across the room at this moment and tapped him on the shoulder with her fan. Possibly Lady Virginia thought that the above colloquy had lasted long enough. Sho said : " Come aud be reasoned with by Sir Samuel, who thinks that you and other seceding Radicals may yet be lectured out of your unreasonableness." Lady Laura tranquilly concluded her sentence. " And even if they don't they sometimes know quite well what other people's minds are— which answers the same purpose and saves a lot of trouble " ' That it might Have trouble Wilfrid could understand, while lending a wandering attention to the eloquence of Sic Samuel Bland, whoso mind waa quite made up to adopting tho onhro Gladstonian prognunuio, whatever that might ultimately prove to bo: how ,t could bo said to answer too same purpose ho was unable to

see. But he was given no chance of renewing his incipient disputation with Lady Laura, and he carried a rather heavy heart away from Tilney Street. It is always a little disheartening to be brought face to face with the pranks wrought by perverse destiny. (To be concluded.)