'Alas, I've tried them,' said the Baronet, 'and I found they were of no use. As soon as they had fingered a fiver or two they began to give themselves such airs. I could not get on with them at all, and after all,' said the speaker, looking down complacently at his well-dressed figure, 'people prefer a gentleman.'

'Perhaps so; but real gentlemen are scarce nowadays,' said Wentworth.

'Where is the real gentleman now, brave, truthful, unsullied, with hands and heart clean, without fear or reproach? In political life, at any rate, he seems to me almost as extinct as the dodo.'

Wentworth was getting on dangerous ground. He had a faint suspicion that his visitor was not one of this cla.s.s. The visitor felt it himself, and was getting rather uncomfortable in consequence. He had come on business to hire a speaker, and to pay him for his services, and to be helped in other ways. Fellows who wrote in newspapers had, he knew, many ways of obliging a friend. It was important to him to get into Parliament. If he carried Sloville he conferred a favour on Ministers, who would reward him in due time with a comfortable office, where the pay was heavy and the burden light, and just at that time money was an object to our Baronet, who as a gambler and man of the world managed to get rid of a good deal of it in the course of a year. At any rate he rather liked the look of M.P. after his name, and M.P. he was determined to be. All his life he had lived in excitement, and now he had reached an age when the excitement of politics in lieu of wine or women or horse-racing or gambling had special charms.

'You see,' he remarked, 'we are an old family in the neighbourhood, and we have a certain amount of legitimate influence which will certainly be in my favour.'

He might have added that in the day of rotten boroughs it was as proprietor of Sloville, and as in that capacity a useful servant of the Government, that the first baronet of the family had been adorned with his hereditary rank. A Royal Duke had been guilty of gross misconduct-a slight indiscretion it was termed by his friends. The matter was brought before Parliament, and a vote by no means complimentary to H.R.H.-either as regards morals, or manners, or understanding-would have been carried, had not the Strahan of that day saved the Government by his casting vote.

Government was grateful, and so was Strahan-in the sense of further favours to come.

'Well, that is something,' said Wentworth; 'birth and connection are of some account in politics.'

'I should think so,' said the Baronet.

'And the borough is Liberal?'

'Most decidedly.'

'And you have a good chance of success?'

'Yes; if it were not for the publicans, who have great influence, and are bitterly opposed to the Liberals.'

'Naturally; their craft is in danger. Well, I might run down to one or two of your meetings.'

'Thanks; I'm much obliged. I thought about having a public meeting next week. There is no time to lose. It is a great thing to be first in the field.'

Just as Wentworth was about to reply, the door opened, and the actress rushed in. Suddenly perceiving that Wentworth had company, she exclaimed:

'I beg pardon. I thought you were alone.'

'Never mind, madam,' said the Baronet; 'we have just finished what we had to say,' turning to address the last comer. All at once he faltered, and turned all the colours of the rainbow. Could it be? Yes, it was the poor girl he had brought up to London, and then deserted-left, as he coolly supposed, to perish on the streets, and whom, to his surprise, he had seen radiant on the stage.

A stony and contemptuous stare was the actress's only reply.

'Dear me,' said the Baronet, recovering his self-possession. ''Pon my honour, this is an unexpected pleasure;' but before he had finished his sentence Rose had gone.

'You'll excuse me, I am sure,' said the Baronet, turning round to Wentworth; 'I believe that young lady and I are old friends. I had lost sight of her for a long while, and to my intense astonishment and gratification I found her acting at Drury Lane. I followed her the other night in a cab in order to overtake her and explain everything; but her coachman was quicker than mine, and I was obliged to give up the chase.'

'I am sorry you should have had so much trouble, Sir Watkin. That young lady needs no attention from you, nor will she require any explanation.'

'Well, I am sure I congratulate you, Mr. Wentworth, to have such an acquaintance,' returned the Baronet ungraciously. 'Her beauty as a girl quite overcame me, and I was very much tempted to act in a foolish manner to her. We men of the world are apt to do silly things.'

'Instead,' said Wentworth, with increasing anger, 'you preferred to make a fool of her. I found her when you had thrown her off, and abandoned her to the cruel mercies of the world. I saw her in her bitter agony and despair. I saved her from dishonour. For all you cared she might have been on the streets in infamy and rags. She has little to thank you for.

I know how she had been deceived. Weeping, she told me the story of her life; but I never knew who was the wrong-doer until this moment. I have an account to settle with him,' he added angrily.

'And you find him penitent,' said the Baronet.

'Penitent or not, I vowed I would call him to account.'

'My good sir,' said the Baronet, 'how was I to know that the lady was in any danger? I was not even in England at the time. I felt she would soon forget me, as indeed she seems to have done,' added the speaker sarcastically. 'Now I come to think of it,' he continued, 'I think it is I, indeed, who have reason to complain. You see with what scorn she treated me as she came into the room.'

'Surely, Sir Watkin cannot wonder at that.'

'On the contrary, I think it rather hard, after the money I spent on her.'

'That won't do, Sir Watkin! You, and such as you, are a disgrace to your cla.s.s; cruel as wild beasts you spend your lives in pursuit of victims whom you ruin with fair words and foul lies and for foul ends. A time must come when England will no longer tolerate such men in her midst.

English women will come to the rescue of their tempted sisters. Society will demand that wealth should not thus be iniquitously squandered in pursuit of vice and selfish gratifications. There is no greater crime a rich man can commit, and yet there is no punishment can reach him. The rich man can always get off, or take himself off. He leaves the seduced to perish of want and infamy, while he is honoured and admired.'

'Upon my word, Mr. Wentworth, you are using language which I am quite unaccustomed to.'

'I dare say you are, Sir Watkin; but it is the language of truth and soberness, nevertheless.'

'Why, one would fancy you were a parson, and availing yourself of the privileges of the cloth,' said the Baronet with sneer.

'I was very near being one,' said Wentworth; 'and now I recollect that it was then you and I met for the first time. I remember you nearly ran over a poor old woman who was coming to hear me preach.'

'Upon my word you have a good memory. I'd forgotten all about it.'

'So good a memory,' said Wentworth, 'that for the future I recommend you to keep out of my way.'

'By all means,' replied the Baronet; 'but you ought to hear what I have to say in my defence. I own my conduct was shabby.'

'It was infamous.'

'But recollect what a mess I was in.'

'I will not hear another word,' said Wentworth. 'Leave this room, or-'

But there was no occasion to say what he meant to say. Putting on his hat and gathering up his gloves, the Baronet retreated as quickly as he could, looking very different to the finished and self-satisfied appearance of respectability he presented when he first knocked at the door.

'The scoundrel!' said Wentworth to himself when alone. 'He will hear from me further. I have not done with him yet. I'll meet him at Philippi. I'll take care that he does not get in for Sloville after all.'

And he kept his word.

CHAPTER XV.

ELECTIONEERING.

The writ for Sloville would be out in a few days. The defeated Liberals were winding up business in Parliament as quickly as possible, in order at once to appeal to the country. The Tadpoles and Tapers were at their wits' ends for a good cry. Wentworth rushed down to Sloville, invited the electors to hear him, advertised in the local papers, and covered the walls with his posters. He was for the extension of the Franchise to all men of age of sound mind, untainted by crime, and to all women who paid rates and taxes. He advocated the separation of Church and State, arbitration instead of war, reduction of national expenditure, a reform of the House of Lords, free trade in land, and free secular education.

He was ready even to give Ireland as much Home Rule as he would give to England or Scotland. At that time the great Liberal leader had not dreamed of anything of the kind.

'I like that,' said the Tory candidate to his agent; 'all the respectable people will vote for me.'

'Confound the fellow!' said Sir Watkin, in a rage. 'I shall have hard work to beat that, and if I did the people would never believe I meant it. I am of an old Whig family, and it is hard to give up one's principles.'