CHAPTER X.
The first sitting of the Birmingham Labour Congress was just over, andthe streets about the hall in which it had been held were beginning tofill with the issuing delegates. Rain was pouring down and umbrellaswere plentiful.
Harry Wharton, accompanied by a group of men, left the main entrance ofthe hall,--releasing himself with difficulty from the friendly crowdabout the doors--and crossed the street to his hotel.
"Well, I'm glad you think I did decently," he said, as they mounted thehotel stairs. "What a beastly day, and how stuffy that hall was! Come inand have something to drink."
He threw open the door of his sitting-room as he spoke. The four menwith him followed him in.
"I must go back to the hall to see two or three men before everybodydisperses," said the one in front. "No refreshment for me, thank you,Mr. Wharton. But I want to ask a question--what arrangements have youmade for the reporting of your speech?"
The man who spoke was thin and dark, with a modest kindly eye. He wore ablack frock coat, and had the air of a minister.
"Oh, thank you, Bennett, it's all right. The _Post_, the _Chronicle_,and the _Northern Guardian_ will have full copies. I sent them offbefore the meeting. And my own paper, of course. As to the rest they mayreport it as they like. I don't care."
"They'll all have it," said another man, bluntly. "It's the best speechyou've ever made--the best president's speech we've had yet, Isay,--don't you think so?"
The speaker, a man called Casey, turned to the two men behind him. Bothnodded.
"Hallin's speech last year was first-rate," he continued, "but somehowHallin damps you down, at least he did me last year; what you want justnow is _fight_--and, my word! Mr. Wharton let 'em have it!"
And standing with his hands on his sides, he glanced round from one toanother. His own face was flushed, partly from the effects of a crowdedhall and bad air, but mostly with excitement. All the men presentindeed--though it was less evident in Bennett and Wharton than in therest--had the bright nervous look which belongs to leaders keenlyconscious of standing well with the led, and of having just emergedsuccessfully from an agitating ordeal. As they stood together they wentover the speech to which they had been listening, and the scene whichhad followed it, in a running stream of talk, laughter, and gossip.Wharton took little part, except to make a joke occasionally at his ownexpense, but the pleasure on his smiling lip, and in his roving,contented eye was not to be mistaken. The speech he had just deliveredhad been first thought out as he paced the moonlit library and corridorat Mellor. After Marcella had left him, and he was once more in his ownroom, he had had the extraordinary self-control to write it out, andmake two or three machine-copies of it for the press. Neither its rangenor its logical order had suffered for that intervening experience. Theprogramme of labour for the next five years had never been betterpresented, more boldly planned, more eloquently justified. Hallin'spresidential speech of the year before, as Casey said, rang flat in thememory when compared with it. Wharton knew that he had made a mark, andknew also that his speech had given him the whip-hand of some fellowswho would otherwise have stood in his way.
Casey was the first man to cease talking about the speech. He hadalready betrayed himself about it more than he meant. He belonged to theNew Unionism, and affected a costume in character--fustian trousers,flannel shirt, a full red tie and work-man's coat, all well calculatedto set off a fine lion-like head and broad shoulders. He had begun lifeas a bricklayer's labourer, and was now the secretary of a recentlyformed Union. His influence had been considerable, but was said to bealready on the wane; though it was thought likely that he would win aseat in the coming Parliament.
The other two men were Molloy, secretary to the congress, short,smooth-faced, and wiry, a man whose pleasant eye and manner were oftenmisleading, since he was in truth one of the hottest fighting men of afighting movement; and Wilkins, a friend of Casey's--ex-iron worker,Union official, and Labour candidate for a Yorkshire division--anuneducated, passionate fellow, speaking with a broad, Yorkshire accent,a bad man of affairs, but honest, and endowed with the influence whichcomes of sincerity, together with a gift for speaking and superhumanpowers of physical endurance.
"Well, I'm glad it's over," said Wharton, throwing himself into a chairwith a long breath, and at the same time stretching out his hand to ringthe bell. "Casey, some whisky? No? Nor you, Wilkins? nor Molloy? As foryou, Bennett, I know it's no good asking you. By George! ourgrandfathers would have thought us a poor lot! Well, some coffee at anyrate you must all of you have before you go back. Waiter! coffee. By theway, I have been seeing something of Hallin, Bennett, down in thecountry."
He took out his cigarette case as he spoke, and offered it to theothers. All refused except Molloy. Casey took his half-smoked pipe outof his pocket and lit up. He was not a teetotaler as the others were,but he would have scorned to drink his whisky and water at the expenseof a "gentleman" like Wharton, or to smoke the "gentleman's" cigarettes.His class-pride was irritably strong. Molloy, who was by natureanybody's equal, took the cigarette with an easy good manners, whichmade Casey look at him askance.
Mr. Bennett drew his chair close to Wharton's. The mention of Hallin hadroused a look of anxiety in his quick dark eyes.
"How is he, Mr. Wharton? The last letter I had from him he made light ofhis health. But you know he only just avoided a breakdown in that strikebusiness. We only pulled him through by the skin of his teeth--Mr.Raeburn and I."
"Oh, he's no constitution; never had, I suppose. But he seemed much asusual. He's staying with Raeburn, you know, and I've been staying withthe father of the young lady whom Raeburn 's going to marry."
"Ah! I've heard of that," said Bennett, with a look of interest. "Well,Mr. Raeburn isn't on our side, but for judgment and fair dealing thereare very few men of his class and circumstances I would trust as I wouldhim. The lady should be happy."
"Of course," said Wharton, drily. "However, neither she nor Raeburn arevery happy just at this moment. A horrible affair happened down therelast night. One of Lord Maxwell's gamekeepers and a 'helper,' a lad ofseventeen, were killed last night in a fight with poachers. I only justheard the outlines of it before I came away, but I got a telegram justbefore going into congress, asking me to defend the man charged with themurder."
A quick expression of repulsion and disgust crossed Bennett's face.
"There have been a whole crop of such cases lately," he said. "How shallwe ever escape from the _curse_ of this game system?"
"We shan't escape it," said Wharton, quietly, knocking the end off hiscigarette, "not in your lifetime or mine. When we get more Radicals onthe bench we shall lighten the sentences; but that will only exasperatethe sporting class into finding new ways of protecting themselves. Oh!the man will be hung--that's quite clear to me. But it will be a goodcase--from the public point of view--will work up well--"
He ran his hand through his curls, considering.
"Will work up admirably," he added in a lower tone of voice, as thoughto himself, his eyes keen and brilliant as ever, in spite of the marksof sleeplessness and fatigue visible in the rest of the face, thoughonly visible there since he had allowed himself the repose of hiscigarette and arm-chair.
"Are yo' comin' to dine at the 'Peterloo' to-night, Mr. Wharton?" saidWilkins, as Wharton handed him a cup of coffee; "but of coorse youare--part of yower duties, I suppose?"
While Molloy and Casey were deep in animated discussion of the greatmeeting of the afternoon he had been sitting silent against the edge ofthe table--a short-bearded sombre figure, ready at any moment to make agrievance, to suspect a slight.
"I'm afraid I can't," said Wharton, bending forward and speaking in atone of concern; "that was just what I was going to ask you all--if youwould make my excuses to-night? I have been explaining to Bennett. Ihave an important piece of business in the country--a labourer has beengetting into trouble for shooting a keeper; they have asked me to defendhim. The assizes come on in little more th
an a fortnight, worse luck! sothat the time is short--"
And he went on to explain that, by taking an evening train back toWidrington, he could get the following (Saturday) morning with thesolicitor in charge of the case, and be back in Birmingham, thanks tothe convenience of a new line lately opened, in time for the secondmeeting of the congress, which was fixed for the early afternoon.
He spoke with great cordiality and persuasiveness. Among the men whosurrounded him, his youth, good looks, and easy breeding shone outconspicuous. In the opinion of Wilkins, indeed, who followed his everyword and gesture, he was far too well dressed and too well educated. Aday would soon come when the labour movement would be able to show theseyoung aristocrats the door. Not yet, however.
"Well, I thowt you wouldn't dine with us," he said, turning away with ablunt laugh.
Bennett's mild eye showed annoyance. "Mr. Wharton has explained himselfvery fully, I think," he said, turning to the others. "We shall miss himat dinner--but this matter seems to be one of life and death. And wemustn't forget anyway that Mr. Wharton is fulfilling this engagement atgreat inconvenience to himself. We none of us knew when we elected himlast year that he would have to be fighting his election at the sametime. Next Saturday, isn't it?"
Bennett rose as he spoke and carefully buttoned his coat. It was curiousto contrast his position among his fellows--one of marked ascendency andauthority--with his small insignificant physique. He had a gentledeprecating eye, and the heart of a poet. He played the flute andpossessed the gift of repeating verse--especially Ebenezer Eliot's CornLaw Rhymes--so as to stir a great audience to enthusiasm or tears. TheWesleyan community of his native Cheshire village owned no moresuccessful class-leader, and no humbler Christian. At the same time hecould hold a large business meeting sternly in check, was the secretaryof one of the largest and oldest Unions in the country, had been inParliament for years, and was generally looked upon even by the men whohated his "moderate" policy, as a power not to be ignored.
"Next Saturday. Yes!" said Wharton, nodding in answer to his inquiry.
"Well, are you going to do it?" said Casey, looking round at him.
"Oh, yes!" said Wharton, cheerfully; "oh, yes! we shall do it. We shallsettle old Dodgson, I think."
"Are the Raeburns as strong as they were?" asked Molloy, who knewBrookshire.
"What landlord is? Since '84 the ground is mined for them all--good andbad--and they know it."
"The mine takes a long time blowing up--too long for my patience," saidWilkins, gruffly. "How the country can go on year after year paying itstribute to these plunderers passes my comprehension. But you may attackthem as you please. You will never get any forrarder so long asParliament and the Cabinet is made up of them and their hangers on."
Wharton looked at him brightly, but silently, making a little assentinginclination of the head. He was not surprised that anything should passWilkins's comprehension, and he was determined to give him no openingfor holding forth.
"Well, we'll let you alone," said Bennett. "You'll have very little timeto get off in. We'll make your excuses, Mr. Wharton. You may be sureeverybody is so pleased with your speech we shall find them all in agood temper. It was grand!--let me congratulate you again. Good-night--Ihope you'll get your poacher off!"
The others followed suit, and they all took leave in character;--Molloy,with an eager business reference to the order of the day forSaturday,--"Give me your address at Widrington; I'll post you everythingto-night, so that you may have it all under your eye"--Casey, with theoff-hand patronage of the man who would not for the world have hisbenevolence mistaken for servility,--and Wilkins with as gruff a nod andas limp a shake of the hand as possible. It might perhaps have been readin the manner of the last two, that although this young man had justmade a most remarkable impression, and was clearly destined to go far,they were determined not to yield themselves to him a moment before theymust. In truth, both were already jealous of him; whereas Molloy,absorbed in the business of the congress, cared for nothing except toknow whether in the next two days' debates Wharton would show himself asgood a chairman as he was an orator; and Bennett, while saying no wordthat he did not mean, was fully conscious of an inner judgment, whichpronounced five minutes of Edward Hallin's company to be worth more tohim than anything which this brilliant young fellow could do or say.
* * * * *
Wharton saw them out, then came back and threw himself again into hischair by the window. The venetian blinds were not closed, and he lookedout on a wide and handsome street of tall red-brick houses and shops,crowded with people and carriages, and lit with a lavishness of gaswhich overcame even the February dark and damp. But he noticed nothing,and even the sensation of his triumph was passing off. He was once morein the Mellor drive; Aldous Raeburn and Marcella stood in front of him;the thrill of the moment beat once more in his pulse.
He buried his head in his hands and thought. The news of the murder hadreached him from Mr. Boyce. The master of Mellor had heard the news fromWilliam, the man-servant, at half-past seven, and had instantly knockedup his guest, by way of sharing the excitement with which his own feebleframe was throbbing.
"By Gad! I never heard such an _atrocious_ business," said the invalid,his thin hand shaking against his dressing-gown. "That's what yourRadical notions bring us to! We shall have them plundering and burningthe country houses next."
"I don't think my Radical notions have much to do with it," saidWharton, composedly.
But there was a red spot in his cheeks which belied his manner. So whenhe--_they_--saw Hurd cross the avenue he was on his way to this deed ofblood. The shot that he, Wharton, had heard had been the shot which slewWestall? Probably. Well, what was the bearing of it? Could she keep herown counsel or would they find themselves in the witness box? The ideaquickened his pulse amazingly.
"Any clue? Any arrests?" he asked of his host. "Why, I told you," saidBoyce, testily, though as a matter of fact he had said nothing. "Theyhave got that man Hurd. The ruffian has been a marked man by the keepersand police, they tell me, for the last year or more. And there's mydaughter has been pampering him and his wife all the time, and_preaching_ to me about them! She got Raeburn even to take him on at theCourt. I trust it will be a lesson to her."
Wharton drew a breath of relief. So the man was in custody, and therewas other evidence. Good! There was no saying what a woman's consciencemight be capable of, even against her friends and herself.
When Mr. Boyce at last left him free to dress and make his preparationsfor the early train, by which the night before, after the ladies'departure for the ball, he had suddenly made up his mind to leaveMellor, it was some time before Wharton could rouse himself to action.The situation absorbed him. Miss Boyce's friend was now in imminentdanger of his neck, and Miss Boyce's thoughts must be of necessityconcentrated upon his plight and that of his family. He foresaw thepassion, the _saeva indignatio_, that she must ultimately throw--thegeneral situation being what it was--into the struggle for Hurd's life.Whatever the evidence might be, he would be to her either victim orchampion--and Westall, of course, merely the Holofernes of the piece.
How would Raeburn take it? Ah, well! the situation must develop. Itoccurred to him, however, that he would catch an earlier train toWidrington than the one he had fixed on, and have half an hour's talkwith a solicitor who was a good friend of his before going on toBirmingham. Accordingly, he rang for William--who came, all staring anddishevelled, fresh from the agitation of the servants' hall--gave ordersfor his luggage to be sent after him, got as much fresh information ashe could from the excited lad, plunged into his bath, and finallyemerged, fresh and vigorous in every nerve, showing no trace whatever ofthe fact that two hours of broken sleep had been his sole portion for anight, in which he had gone through emotions and sustained a travail ofbrain either of which would have left their mark on most men.
* * * * *
Then the meeting in the drive! How pla
inly he saw them both--Raeburngrave and pale, Marcella in her dark serge skirt and cap, with an eyeall passion and a cheek white as her hand.
"A tragic splendour enwrapped her!--a fierce heroic air. She was theembodiment of the moment--of the melancholy morning with its rain andleafless woods--of the human anguish throbbing in the little village.And I, who had seen her last in her festal dress, who had held her warmperfumed youth in my arms, who had watched in her white breast theheaving of the heart that I--_I_ had troubled!--how did I find itpossible to stand and face her? But I did. It rushed through me at once_how_ I would make her forgive me--how I would regain possession of her.I had thought the play was closed: it was suddenly plain to me that thesecond act was but just beginning. She and Raeburn had already come towords--I knew it directly I saw them. This business will divide themmore and more. His _conscience_ will come in--and a Raeburn's conscienceis the devil!
"By now he hates me; every word I speak to him--still more every wordto her--galls him. But he controlled himself when I made him tell me thestory--I had no reason to complain--though every now and then I couldsee him wince under the knowledge I must needs show of the persons andplaces concerned--a knowledge I could only have got from _her_. And shestood by meanwhile like a statue. Not a word, not a look, so far, thoughshe had been forced to touch my hand. But my instinct saved me. I rousedher--I played upon her! I took the line that I was morally certain_she_ had been taking in their _tete-a-tete_. Why not a scuffle?--ageneral scrimmage?--in which it was matter of accident who fell? The mansurely was inoffensive and gentle, incapable of deliberate murder. Andas to the evidence of hatred, it told both ways. He stiffened and wassilent. What a fine brow he has--a look sometimes, when he is moved, ofantique power and probity! But she--she trembled--animation came back.She would almost have spoken to me--but I did well not to prolong it--tohurry on."
Then he took the telegram out of his pocket which had been put into hishands as he reached the hotel, his mouth quivering again with theexultation which he had felt when he had received it. It recalled to hisranging memory all the details of his hurried interview with the littleWidrington solicitor, who had already scented a job in the matter ofHurd's defence. This man--needy, shrewd, and well equipped with localknowledge--had done work for Wharton and the party, and asked nothingbetter than to stand well with the future member for the division."There is a lady," Wharton had said, "the daughter of Mr. Boyce ofMellor, who is already very much interested in this fellow and hisfamily. She takes this business greatly to heart. I have seen her thismorning, but had no time to discuss the matter with her. She will, Ihave little doubt, try to help the relations in the arrangements for thedefence. Go to her this morning--tell her that the case has mysympathy--that, as she knows, I am a barrister, and, if she wishes it, Iwill defend Hurd. I shall be hard put to it to get up the case with theelection coming on, but I will do it--for the sake of the publicinterest involved. You understand? Her father is a Tory--and she is justabout to marry Mr. Raeburn. Her position, therefore, is difficult.Nevertheless, she will feel strongly--she does feel strongly about thiscase, and about the whole game system--and I feel moved to support her.She will take her own line, whatever happens. See her--see the wife,too, who is entirely under Miss Boyce's influence--and wire to me at myhotel at Birmingham. If they wish to make other arrangements, well andgood. I shall have all the more time to give to the election."
Leaving this commission behind him, he had started on his journey. Atthe end of it a telegram had been handed to him on the stairs of hishotel:
"Have seen the lady, also Mrs. Hurd. You are urgently asked to undertakedefence."
He spread it out before him now, and pondered it. The bit of flimsypaper contained for him the promise of all he most coveted,--influence,emotion, excitement. "She will have returns upon herself," he thoughtsmiling, "when I see her again. She will be dignified, resentful; shewill suspect everything I say or do--still more, she will suspectherself. No matter! The situation is in my hands. Whether I succeed orfail, she will be forced to work with me, to consult with me--she willowe me gratitude. What made her consent?--she must have felt it in somesort a humiliation. Is it that Raeburn has been driving her to strongmeasures--that she wants, woman-like, to win, and thought me after allher best chance, and put her pride in her pocket? Or is it?--ah! oneshould put _that_ out of one's head. It's like wine--it unsteadies one.And for a thing like this one must go into training. Shall I write toher--there is just time now, before I start--take the lofty tone, theequal masculine tone, which I have noticed she likes?--ask her pardonfor an act of madness--before we go together to the rescue of a life? Itmight do--it might go down. But no, I think not! Let the situationdevelop itself. Action and reaction--the unexpected--I commit myself tothat. _She_--marry Aldous Raeburn in a month? Well, she may--certainlyshe may. But there is no need for me, I think, to take it greatly intoaccount. Curious! twenty-four hours ago I thought it all done with--deadand done with. 'So like Provvy,' as Bentham used to say, when he heardof anything particularly unseemly in the way of natural catastrophe. Nowto dine, and be off! How little sleep can I do with in the nextfortnight?"
He rang, ordered his cab, and then went to the coffee-room for somehasty food. As he was passing one of the small tables with which theroom was filled, a man who was dining there with a friend recognised himand gave him a cold nod. Wharton walked on to the further end of theroom, and, while waiting for his meal, buried himself in the localevening paper, which already contained a report of his speech.
"Did you see that man?" asked the stranger of his friend.
"The small young fellow with the curly hair?"
"Small young fellow, indeed! He is the wiriest athlete Iknow--extraordinary physical strength for his size--and one of thecleverest rascals out as a politician. I am a neighbour of his in thecountry. His property joins mine. I knew his father--a little, dried-upold chap of the old school--very elegant manners and veryobstinate--worried to death by his wife--oh, my goodness! such a woman!"
"What's the name?" said the friend, interrupting.
"Wharton--H.S. Wharton. His mother was a daughter of Lord Westgate, and_her_ mother was an actress whom the old lord married in his dotage.Lady Mildred Wharton was like Garrick, only natural when she was acting,which she did on every possible occasion. A preposterous woman! OldWharton ought to have beaten her for her handwriting, and murdered herfor her gowns. Her signature took a sheet of note-paper, and as for herdress I never could get out of her way. Whatever part of the room Ihappened to be in I always found my feet tangled in her skirts.Somehow, I never could understand how she was able to find so much stuffof one pattern. But it was only to make you notice her, like all therest. Every bit of her was a pose, and the maternal pose was the worstof all."
"H.S. Wharton?" said the other. "Why, that's the man who has beenspeaking here to-day. I've just been reading the account of it in the_Evening Star_. A big meeting--called by a joint committee of theleading Birmingham trades to consider the Liberal election programme asit affects labour--that's the man--he's been at it hammer andtongs--red-hot--all the usual devices for harrying the employer out ofexistence, with a few trifles--graduated income-tax and landnationalisation--thrown in. Oh! that's the man, is it?--they say he hada great reception--spoke brilliantly--and is certainly going to get intoParliament next week."
The speaker, who had the air of a shrewd and prosperous manufacturer,put up his eyeglass to look at this young Robespierre. His_vis-a-vis_--a stout country gentleman who had been in the army andknocked about the world before coming into his estate--shrugged hisshoulders.
"So I hear--he daren't show his nose as a candidate in _our_ part of theworld, though of course he does us all the harm he can. I remember agood story of his mother--she quarrelled with her husband and all herrelations, his and hers, and then she took to speaking in public,accompanied by her dear boy. On one occasion she was speaking at amarket town near us, and telling the farmers that as far as she wasconcerned she would like
to see the big properties cut up to-morrow. Thesooner her father's and husband's estates were made into small holdingsstocked with public capital the better. After it was all over, a friendof mine, who was there, was coming home in a sort of omnibus that ranbetween the town and a neighbouring village. He found himself betweentwo fat farmers, and this was the conversation--broad Lincolnshire, ofcourse: 'Did tha hear Lady Mildred Wharton say them things, Willum?''Aye, a did.' 'What did tha think, Willum?' 'What did _tha_ think,George?' 'Wal, _aa_ thowt Laady Mildred Wharton wor a graaet fule,Willum, if tha asks me.' 'I'll uphowd tha, George! I'll uphowd tha!'said the other, and then they talked no more for the rest of thejourney."
The friend laughed.
"So it was from the dear mamma that the young man got his opinions?"
"Of course. She dragged him into every absurdity she could from the timehe was fifteen. When the husband died she tried to get the servants tocome in to meals, but the butler struck. So did Wharton himself, who,for a Socialist, has always showed a very pretty turn for comfort. I ambound to say he was cut up when she died. It was the only time I everfelt like being civil to him--in those months after she departed. Isuppose she was devoted to him--which after all is something."
"Good heavens!" said the other, still lazily turning over the pages ofthe newspaper as they sat waiting for their second course, "here isanother poaching murder--in Brookshire--the third I have noticed withina month. On Lord Maxwell's property--you know them?"
"I know the old man a little--fine old fellow! They'll make himPresident of the Council, I suppose. He can't have much work left inhim; but it is such a popular, respectable name. Ah! I'm sorry; the sortof thing to distress him terribly."
"I see the grandson is standing."
"Oh yes; will get in too. A queer sort of man--great ability and highcharacter. But you can't imagine him getting on in politics, unless it'sby sheer weight of wealth and family influence. He'll find a scruple inevery bush--never stand the rough work of the House, or get on with the_men_. My goodness! you have to pull with some queer customers nowadays.By the way, I hear he is making an unsatisfactory marriage--a girl veryhandsome, but with no manners, and like nobody else--the daughter, too,of an extremely shady father. It's surprising; you'd have thought a manlike Aldous Raeburn would have looked for the pick of things."
"Perhaps it was she looked for the pick of things!" said the other, witha blunt laugh. "Waiter, another bottle of champagne."