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Lost Leader, a novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim |
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Book 2 - Chapter 11. Borrowdean Shows His "Hand" |
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_ BOOK II CHAPTER XI. BORROWDEAN SHOWS HIS "HAND" "To be plain with you," Borrowdean remarked, "Mannering's defection would be irremediable. He alone unites Redford, myself, and--well, to put it crudely, let us say the Imperialistic Liberal Party with Manningham and the old-fashioned Whigs who prefer the ruts. There is no other leader possible. Redford and I talked till daylight this morning. Now, can nothing be done with Mannering?" "To be plain with you, too, then, Sir Leslie," Berenice answered, "I do not think that anything can be done with him. In his present frame of mind I should say that he is better left alone. He has worked himself up into a thoroughly sentimental and nervous state. For the moment he has lost his sense of balance." Borrowdean nodded. "Desperate necessity," he said, "sometimes justifies desperate measures. We need Mannering, the country and our cause need him. If argument will not prevail there is one last alternative left to us. It may not be such an alternative as we should choose, but beggars must not be choosers. I think that you will know what I mean." "I have no idea," Berenice answered. "You are aware," he continued, "that there is in Mannering's past history an episode, the publication of which would entail somewhat serious consequences to him." "Well?" It was a most eloquent monosyllable, but Borrowdean had gone too far to retreat. "I propose that we make use of it," he said. "Mannering's attitude is rankly foolish, or I would not suggest such a thing. But I hold that we are entitled, under the circumstances, to make use of any means whatever to bring him to his senses." Berenice smiled. They were standing together upon a small hillock in the park, watching the golf. "Charlatanism in politics does not appeal to me," she said, drily. "Any party that adopted such means would completely alienate my sympathies. No, my dear Sir Leslie, don't stoop to such low-down means. Mannering is honest, but infatuated. Win him back by fair means, if you can, but don't attempt anything of the sort you are suggesting. I, too, know his history, from his own lips. Any one who tried to use it against him, would forfeit my friendship!" "Success then would be bought too dearly," Borrowdean answered, with a gallantry which it cost him a good deal to assume. "May I pass on, Duchess, in connexion with this matter, to ask you a somewhat more personal question?" "I think," Berenice said, calmly, "that I can spare you the necessity. You were going to speak, I believe, of the engagement between Lawrence Mannering and myself." "I was," Borrowdean admitted. "It does not exist any longer," Berenice said, "I should be glad if you would inform any one who has heard the rumour that it is without any foundation." Borrowdean looked thoughtfully at the woman by his side. "I am very glad to hear it," he declared. "I am glad for many reasons, and I am glad personally." She raised her eyebrows. "Indeed! I cannot imagine how it should affect you personally." "I perhaps said more than I meant to," he replied, calmly. "I am a poor, struggling politician myself, whose capital consists of brains and a capacity for work, and whose hopes are coloured with perhaps too daring ambitions. Amongst them--" "Mr. Mannering has holed out from off the green," she interrupted. "Positively immoral, I call it." "Amongst them," Borrowdean continued, calmly, "is one which some day or other I must tell you, for indeed you are concerned in it." "I can assure you, Sir Leslie," she said, looking at him steadily, "that I am not at all a sympathetic person. My strong advice to you would be--not to tell me. I do not think that you would gain anything by it." Borrowdean met his fate with a bow and a shrug of the shoulders. "It only remains," he said, "for me to beg you to pardon what might seem like presumption. Shall we meet them on the last green?" Mannering would have avoided Berenice, but she gave him no option. She laid her hand upon his arm, and volunteered to show him a new way home. "You must be on your guard, Lawrence," she said. "Lord Redford is very fond of concealing his plans to the last moment, but he is a very clever man. And Sir Leslie Borrowdean would give his little finger to catch you tripping. All this avoidance of politics is part of a scheme. They will spring something upon you quite suddenly. Don't give any hasty pledges." "Thank you for your warning," he said. "I will be careful." "Tell me," she said, "as a friend, what are your plans? Forget that I am interested in politics altogether. I simply want to know how you are spending your time for the next few months." "It depends upon them," he answered, looking downwards into the valley, where Lord Redford and Borrowdean were walking side by side. "If they ask me to resign my seat I shall go North again, and it is just possible that I might come back into the House as a labour member. On the other hand, if they are content with such support as I can give them, and to have me on the fence at present so far as the tariff question is concerned, why, I shall go back and do the best I can for them." "You are not quite won over to the other side yet, then," she remarked, smiling. "Not yet," he answered. "If ever there was an honest doubter, I am one. If I had never left my study, England could not have contained a more rabid opponent of any change in our fiscal policy than I. I am like a small boy who is absolutely sure that he has worked out his sum correctly, but finds the answer is not the one which his examiner expects. There is something wrong somewhere. I want, if I can, to discover it. I only want the truth! I don't see why it should be so hard to find, why figures and common sense should clash entirely and horribly with existing facts." "You wore dun-coloured spectacles when you took your walks abroad," she said, smiling. "No one else seems to have discovered so distressing a state of affairs as you have spoken of." "Because they never looked beneath the surface," he answered. "I myself might have failed to understand if I had not been shown. Remember that our workingman of the better class does not go marching through the streets with an unemployed banner and a tin cup when he is in want. He takes his half wages and closes the door upon his sufferings. God help him!" "Adieu, politics," she declared, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Isn't that Clara playing croquet with Major Bristow? I wish I didn't dislike that man so much. I hate to see the child with him." Mannering sighed. "Poor Clara!" he said. "I am afraid I have left her a good deal to herself lately." "I am afraid you have," she agreed, a little gravely. "May I give you a word of advice?" "You know that I should be grateful for it," he declared. "Be sure that she never goes to the Bristows again, and ask her whether she has any other card debts. It may be my fancy, but I don't like the way that man hangs about her, and looks at her. I am sure that she does not like him, and yet she never seems to have the courage to snub him." "I am very much obliged to you," he said. "I will speak to her to-day." "I don't know where I am going, or what I shall do for the autumn," she continued, with a little sigh, "but if you like to trust Clara with me I will look after her. I think that she needs a woman. Yes, I thought so. Redford and Sir Leslie are waiting for you. Go and have it out with them, my friend." "You are too kind to me," he said; "kinder than I deserve!" "Oh, I don't know," she answered. "I am afraid that my kindness is only another form of selfishness. I am rather a lonely person, you know. Lord Redford is beckoning to you. I am going to break up that croquet party." Mannering joined the other two men. Berenice strolled on to the lawn. Major Bristow eyed her coming with some disfavour. He was one of the men whom she always ignored. Clara, on the other hand, seemed proportionately relieved. "I want you to come to my room as soon as you possibly can, child," Berenice said. "Shall I wait while you finish your game?" "Oh, I will come at once," Clara exclaimed, laying down her mallet. "Major Bristow will not mind, I am sure." Major Bristow looked as though he did mind very much, but lacked the nerve to say so. Berenice calmly took Clara by the arm and led her away. "You are not engaged to Major Bristow by any chance, are you?" she asked, calmly. "Engaged to Major Bristow? Heavens, no!" Clara answered. "I don't think he is in the least a marrying man." "So much the better for our sex," Berenice answered. "I wouldn't spend so much time with him, my dear, if I were you. I have known people with nicer reputations." Clara turned a shade paler. "I can never get away from him," she said. "He follows me--everywhere, and--" "You do not by any chance, I suppose, owe him money?" Berenice asked. "They tell me that he has a somewhat objectionable habit of winning money from girls, more than they can afford to pay, and then suggesting that it stand over for a time." Clara turned towards her with terrified eyes. "I--I do owe Major Bristow a little still," she admitted. "I seem to have been so unlucky. He told me that any time would do, that I should win it back again, and I had no idea what stakes we were playing. I don't touch a card now at all, but this was at Ellingham House. They insisted on my making a fourth at bridge." Berenice tightened her grasp upon the girl's arm. "Don't say anything about this to your uncle just now," she insisted. "I am going to take you up to my room and write you a cheque for the amount, whatever it may be. Afterwards I will have a talk with Major Bristow. Nonsense, child, don't cry! The money is nothing to me, and I always promised your uncle that I would look after you a little." "I have been such a fool!" the girl sobbed. Berenice for a moment was also sad. Her lips quivered, her eyes were wistful. "We all think that sometimes, child," she said, quietly. "We all have our foolish moments and our hours of repentance, even the wisest of us!" _ |
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