Lady Macbeth.

‘Here it is,’ said the captain. ‘Beaten’— then came an oath —‘three votes — how the devil was that? — there it is, by Jove — no mistake — majority against ministers, three! Is that the “Times?” What does it say?’

‘A long leader — no resignation — immediate dissolution. That is what I collect from it.’

‘How on earth could they have miscalculated so! Swivell, I see, voted in the majority; that’s very odd; and, by Jove, there’s Surplice, too, and he’s good for seven votes. Why his own paper was backing the ministers! What a fellow that is! That accounts for it all. A difference of fourteen votes.’

And thus we went on, discussing this unexpected turn of luck, and reading to one another snatches of the leading articles in different interests upon the subject.

Then Lake, recollecting his letters, opened a large-sealed envelope, with S.C.G. in the corner.

‘This is from Gybes — let us see. Oh! before the division. “It looks a little fishy,” he says — well, so it does —“We may take the division to-night. Should it prove adverse, you are to expect an immediate dissolution; this on the best authority. I write to mention this, as I may be too much hurried to-morrow.”’

We were discussing this note when Wealdon arrived.

‘Well, captain; great news, Sir. The best thing, I take it, could have happened ministers, ha, ha, ha! A rotten house — down with it — blow it up — three votes only — but as good as three hundred for the purpose — of the three hundred, grant but three, you know — of course, they don’t think of resigning.’

‘Oh, dear, no — an immediate dissolution. Read that,’ said Lake, tossing Gybes’ note to him.

‘Ho, then, we’ll have the writs down hot and heavy. We must be sharp. The sheriff’s all right; that’s a point. You must not lose an hour in getting your committee together, and printing your address.’

‘Who’s on the other side?’

‘You’ll have Jennings, of course; but they are talking of four different men, already, to take Sir Harry Twisden’s place. He’ll resign; that’s past a doubt now. He has his retiring address written; Lord Edward Mordun read it; and he told FitzStephen on Sunday, after church, that he’d never sit again.’

‘Here, by Jove, is a letter from Mowbray,’ said Lake, opening it. ‘All about his brother George. Hears I’m up for the county. Lord George ready to join and go halves. What shall I say?’

‘Could not have a better man. Tell him you desire no better, and will bring it at once before your committee; and let him know, the moment they meet; and tell him I say he knows Wealdon pretty well — he may look on it as settled. That will be a spoke in Sir Harry’s wheel.’

‘Sir Harry who?’ said Lake.

‘Bracton. I think it’s only to spoil your game, you see,’ answered Wealdon.

‘Abundance of malice; but I don’t think he’s countenanced?’

‘He’ll try to get the start of you; and if he does, one or other must go to the wall; for Lord George is too strong to be shook out. Do you get forward at once; that’s your plan, captain.’

Then the captain recurred to his letters, which were a larger pack than usual this morning, chatting all the time with Wealdon and me on the tremendous topic, and tossing aside every letter that did not bear on the coming struggle.

‘Who can this be?’ said Lake, looking at the address of one of these. ‘Very like my hand,’ and he examined the seal. It was only a large wafer-stamp, so he broke it open, and drew out a shabby, very ill-written scroll. He turned suddenly away, talking the while, but with his eyes upon the note, and then he folded, or rather crumpled it up, and stuffed it into his pocket, and continued his talk; but it was now plain to me there was something more on his mind, and he was thinking of the shabby letter he had just received.

But, no matter; the election was the pressing topic, and Lake was soon engaged in it again.

There was now a grand coup under discussion — the forestalling of all the horses and vehicles along the line of railway, and in all the principal posting establishments throughout the county.

‘They’ll want to keep it open for a bid from the other side. It is a heavy item any way; and if you want to engage them now, you’ll have to give double what they got last time.’

But Lake was not to be daunted. He wanted the seat, and would stick at nothing to secure it; and so, Wealdon got instructions, in his own phrase, to go the whole animal.

As I could be of no possible use in local details, I left the council of war sitting, intending a stroll in the grounds.

In the hall, I met the mistress of the house, looking very handsome, but with a certain witch-like beauty, very pale, something a little haggard in her great, dark eyes, and a strange, listening look. Was it watchfulness? was it suspicion? She was dressed gravely but richly, and received me kindly — and, strange to say, with a smile that, yet, was not joyful.

‘I hope she is happy. Lake is such a beast; I hope he does not bully her.’

In truth, there were in her exquisite features the traces of that mysterious misery and fear which seemed to fall wherever Stanley Lake’s ill-omened confidences were given.

I walked down one of the long alleys, with tall, close hedges of beech, as impenetrable as cloister walls to sight, and watched the tench basking and flickering in the clear pond, and the dazzling swans sailing majestically along.

What a strange passion is ambition, I thought. Is it really the passion of great minds, or of little. Here is Lake, with a noble old place, inexhaustible in variety; with a beautiful, and I was by this time satisfied, a very singular and interesting woman for his wife, who must have married him for love, pure and simple; a handsome fortune; the power to bring his friends — those whom he liked, or who amused him — about him, and to indulge luxuriously every reasonable fancy, willing to forsake all, and follow the beck of that phantom. Had he knowledge, public talents, training? Nothing of the sort. Had he patriotism, any one noble motive or fine instinct to prompt him to public life? The mere suggestion was a sneer. It seemed to me, simply, that Stanley Lake was a lively, amusing, and even intelligent man, without any internal resource; vacant, peevish, with an unmeaning passion for corruption and intrigue, and the sort of egotism which craves distinction. So I supposed.

Yet, with all its weakness, there was a dangerous force in the character which, on the whole, inspired an odd mixture of fear and contempt. I was bitten, however, already, by the interest of the coming contest. It is very hard to escape that subtle and intoxicating poison. I wondered what figure Stanley would make as a hustings orator, and what impression in his canvass. The latter, I was pretty confident about. Altogether, curiosity, if no deeper sentiment, was highly piqued; and I was glad I happened to drop in at the moment of action, and wished to see the play out.

At the door of her boudoir, Rachel Lake met Dorcas.

‘I am so glad, Radie, dear, you are come. You must take off your things, and stay. You must not leave me to-night. We’ll send home for whatever you want; and you won’t leave me, Radie, I’m certain.’

‘I’ll stay, dear, as you wish it,’ said Rachel, kissing her.

‘Did you see Stanley? I have not seen him to-day,’ said Dorcas.

‘No, dear; I peeped into the library, but he was not there; and there are two men writing in the Dutch room, very busily,’

‘It must be about the election.’

‘What election, dear?’ asked Rachel.

‘There is going to be an election for the county, and — only think — he intends coming forward. I sometimes think he is mad, Radie.’

‘I could not have supposed such a thing. If I were he, I think I should fly to the antipodes. I should change my name, sear my features with vitriol, and learn another language. I should obliterate my past self altogether; but men are so different, so audacious — some men, at least — and Stanley, ever since his ill-omened arrival at Redman’s Farm, last autumn, has amazed and terrified me.’

‘I think, Radie, we have ............