Chippinge Borough. Weyman Stanley John

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      Yes, tempted him.

      He would- But he could not tell what he would do until he had seen if the parcel were really in his room. The parcel! The mere thought that it was hers sent a foolish thrill through him. He would go and see, and then-

      But he was interrupted. There were people standing or sitting round the hall, a low-ceiled, dark wainscoted room, with sheaves of way-bills hung against the square pillars, and theatre notices flanking the bar window. As he turned to seek his rooms a hand gripped his arm and twitched him round, and he met the grinning face of a man in his old regiment, Bob Flixton, commonly called the Honourable Bob.

      "So I've caught you, my lad," said he. "This is mighty fine. Veiled ladies, eh? Oh, fie! fie!"

      Vaughan, innocent as he was, was a little put out. But he answered good-humouredly, "What brought you here, Flixton?"

      "Ay, just so! Very unlucky, ain't it?" grinning. "Fear I'll cut you out, eh? You're a neat artist, I must say."

      "I don't know the good lady from Eve!"

      "Tell that to- But here, let me make you known to Brereton," hauling him towards a gentleman who was seated in one of the window recesses. "Old West Indian man, in charge of the recruiting district, and a good fellow, but a bit of a saint! Colonel," he rattled on, as they joined the gentleman, "here's Vaughan, once of ours, become a counsellor, and going to be Lord Chancellor. As to the veiled lady, mum, sir, mum!" with an exaggerated wink.

      Vaughan laughed. It was impossible to resist Bob's impudent good-humour. He was a fair young man, short, stout, and inclining to baldness, with a loud, hearty voice, and a manner which made those who did not know him for a peer's son, think of a domestic fowl with a high opinion of itself. He was for ever damning this and praising that with unflagging decision; a man with whom it was impossible to be displeased, and in whom it was next to impossible not to believe. Yet at the mess-table it was whispered that he did not play his best when the pool was large; nor had he ever seen service, save in the lists of love, where his reputation stood high.

      His companion, Vaughan saw, was of a different stamp. He was tall and lean, with the air and carriage of a soldier, but with features of a refined and melancholy cast, and with a brooding sadness in his eyes which could not escape the most casual observer. He was somewhat sallow, the result of the West Indian climate, and counted twenty years more than Flixton, for whom his gentle and quiet manner formed an admirable foil. He greeted Vaughan courteously, and the Honourable Bob forced our hero into a seat beside them.

      "That's snug!" he said. "And now mum's the word, Vaughan. We'll not ask you what you're doing here among the nigger-nabobs. It's clear enough."

      Vaughan explained that the veiled lady was a stranger who had come down in the coach with him, and that, for himself, it was election business which had brought him.

      "Old Vermuyden?" returned the Honourable Bob. "To be sure! Man you've expectations from! Good old fellow, too. I know him. Go and see him one of these days. Gad, Colonel, if old Sir Robert heard your views he'd die on the spot! D-n the Bill, he'd say! And I say it too!"

      "But afterwards?" Brereton returned, drawing Vaughan into the argument by a courteous gesture. "Consider the consequences, my dear fellow, if the Bill does not pass."

      "Oh, hang the consequences!"

      "You can't," drily. "You can hang men-we've been too fond of hanging them-but not consequences! Look at the state of the country; everywhere you will find excitement, and dangerous excitement. Cobbett's writings have roused the South; the papers are full of rioters and special commission to try them! Not a farmer can sleep for thinking of his stacks, nor a farmer's wife for thinking of her husband. Then for the North; look at Birmingham and Manchester and Glasgow, with their Political Unions preaching no taxation without representation. Or, nearer home, look at Bristol here, ready to drown the Corporation, and Wetherell in particular, in the Float! Then, if that is the state of things while they still expect the Bill to pass, what will be the position if they learn it is not to pass? No, no! You may shrug your shoulders, but the three days in Paris will be nothing to it."

      "What I say is, shoot!" Flixton answered hotly. "Shoot! Shoot! Put 'em down! Put an end to it! Show 'em their places! What do a lot of d-d shopkeepers and peasants know about the Bill? Ride 'em down! Give 'em a taste of the Float themselves! I'll answer for it a troop of the 14th would soon bring the Bristol rabble to their senses!"

      "I should be sorry to see it tried," Brereton answered, shaking his head. "They took that line in France last July, and you know the result. You'll agree with me, Mr. Vaughan, that where Marmont failed we are not likely to succeed. The more as his failure is known. The three days of July are known."

      "Ay, by the Lord," the Honourable Bob cried. "The revolution in France bred the whole of this trouble!"

      "The mob there won, and the mob here know it. In my opinion," Brereton continued, "conciliation is our only card, if we do not want to see a revolution."

      "Hang your conciliation! Shoot, I say!"

      "What do you think, Mr. Vaughan?"

      "I think with you, Colonel Brereton," Vaughan answered, "that the only way to avoid such a crisis as has befallen France is to pass the Bill, and to set the Constitution on a wider basis by enlisting as large a number as possible in its defence."

      "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" from Flixton.

      "On the other hand," Vaughan continued, "I would put down the beginnings of disorder with a strong hand. I would allow no intimidation, no violence. The Bill should be passed by argument."

      "Argument? Why, d-n me, intimidation is your argument!" the Honourable Bob struck in, with more acuteness than he commonly evinced. "Pass the Bill or we'll loose the dog! At 'em, Mob, good dog! At 'em! That's your argument!" triumphantly. "But I'll be back in a minute." And he left them.

      Vaughan laughed. Brereton, however, seemed to be unable to take the matter lightly. "Do you really mean, Mr. Vaughan," he said, "that if there were trouble, here, for instance, you would not hesitate to give the order to fire?"

      "Certainly, sir, if it could not be put down with the cold steel."

      The Colonel shook his head despondently. "I don't think I could," he said. "I don't think I could. You have not seen war, and I have. And it is a fearful thing. Bad enough abroad, infinitely worse here. The first shot-think, Mr. Vaughan, of what it might be the beginning! What hundreds and thousands of lives might hang upon it! How many scores of innocent men shot down, of daughters made fatherless!" He shuddered. "And to give such an order on your own responsibility, when the first volley might be the signal for a civil war, and twenty-four hours might see a dozen counties in a blaze! It is horrible to think of! Too horrible! It's too much for one man's shoulders! Flixton would do it-he sees no farther than his nose! But you and I, Mr. Vaughan-and on one's own judgment, which might be utterly, fatally wrong! My God, no!"

      "Yet there must be a point," Vaughan replied, "at which such an order becomes necessary; becomes mercy!"

      "Ay," Brereton answered eagerly; "but who is to say when that point is reached; and that peaceful methods can do no more? Or, granted that they can do no more, that provocation once given, your force is sufficient to prevent a massacre! A massacre in such a place as this!"

      Vaughan saw that the idea had taken possession of the other's mind, and, aware that he had distinguished himself more than once on foreign service, he wondered. It was not his affair, however; and "Let us hope that the occasion may not arise," he said politely.

      "God СКАЧАТЬ