CHAPTER XXIII.

Once then, grappling manfully with the task he had undertaken, and

constraining himself to look on what Riccabocca would have called "the

southern side of things," whatever there was really great in principle or

honourable to human nature, deep below the sordid details and pitiful

interests apparent on the face of the agitated current, came clear to

his vision. The ardour of those around him began to be contagious: the

generous devotion to some cause apart from self, which pervades an

election, and to which the poorest voter will often render sacrifices

that may be called sublime; the warm personal affection which community

of zeal creates for the defender of beloved opinions,--all concurred to

dispel that indifference to party politics, and counteract that disgust

of their baser leaven, which the young poet had first conceived. He even

began to look with complacency, for itself, on a career of toil and

honours strange to his habitual labours and intellectual ambition. He

threw the poetry of idea within him (as poets ever do) into the prose of

action to which he was hurried forward. He no longer opposed Dick Avenel

when that gentleman represented how detrimental it would be to his

business at Screwstown if he devoted to his country the time and the

acumen required by his mill and its steamengine; and how desirable it

would be, on all accounts, that Leonard Fairfield should become the

parliamentary representative of the Avenels. "If, therefore," said Dick,

"two of us cannot come in, and one must retire, leave it to me to arrange

with the Committee that you shall be the one to persist. Oh, never fear

but what all scruples of honour shall be satisfied. I would not for the

sake of the Avenels have a word said against their representative."

"But," answered Leonard, "if I grant this, I fear that you have some

intention of suffering the votes that your resignation would release to

favour Leslie at the expense of Egerton."

"What the deuce is Egerton to you?"

"Nothing, except through my gratitude to his friend Lord L'Estrange."

"Pooh! I will tell you a secret. Levy informs me privately that

L'Estrange will be well satisfied if the choice of Lansmere fall upon

Leslie instead of Egerton; and I think I convinced my Lord--for I saw him

in London--that Egerton would have no chance, though Leslie might."

"I must think that Lord L'Estrange would resist to the utmost any attempt

to prefer Leslie--whom he despises--to Egerton, whom he honours. And, so

thinking, I too would resist it, as you may judge by the speeches which

have so provoked your displeasure."

"Let us cut short a yarn of talk which, when it comes to likings and

dislikings, might last to almighty crack: I'll ask you to do nothing that

Lord L'Estrange does not sanction. Will that satisfy you?"

"Certainly, provided I am assured of the sanction."

And now, the important day preceding the poll, the day in which the

candidates were to be formally nominated, and meet each other in all the

ceremony of declared rivalship, dawned at last. The town-hall was the

place selected for the occasion; and before sunrise, all the streets were

resonant with music, and gay with banners.

Audley Egerton felt that he could not--without incurring some just

sarcasm on his dread to face the constituency he had formerly

represented, and by the malcontents of which he had been burned in

effigy--absent himself from the townhall, as he had done from balcony and

hostel. Painful as it was to confront Nora's brother, and wrestle in

public against all the secret memories that knit the strife of the

present contest with the anguish that recalled the first,--still the

thing must be done; and it was the English habit of his life to face with

courage whatever he had to do.

"My Novel" — Volume 12 · 第 6 / 17 章