The reply was a gruff negative.

"I suppose you do care about discovering her?"

The answer was delayed. Glazzard read it, however, in the man's countenance, which expressed various emotions.

"She has married again--eh?"

"First, let me ask you another question. Have you seen her relatives?"

"Yes, I have."

"With what result?"

"They profess to know nothing about her. Of course, I don't believe them."

"But you may," said Glazzard, calmly. "They speak the truth, no doubt.

From them you must hope for no information. In all likelihood, you might seek her for the rest of your life and never come upon her track."

"Then let me know what you propose."

"I offer to tell you where she is, and how situated, and to enable you to claim her. But you, for your part, must undertake to do this in a certain way, which I will describe when everything is ready, a week or so hence. As I have said, I am willing to reward you for agreeing to act as I direct. My reasons you shall understand when I go into the other details. You will see that I have no kind of selfish object in view--in fact, that I am quite justified in what looks like vulgar plotting."

Glazzard threw out the words with a careless condescension, keeping his eyes on the landscape.

"I'll take back the portrait, if you please."

He restored it to his pocket, and watched Northway's features, which were expressive of mental debate.

"At present," he went on, "I can do no more than give you an idea of what has been going on. Your wife has not been rash enough to marry a second time; but she is supposed to be married to a man of wealth and position--is living publicly as his wife. They have deceived every one who knows them."

"Except you, it seems," remarked Northway, with a gleam from between his eyelids.

"Except me--but that doesn't concern you. Now, you see that your wife has done nothing illegal; you can doubtless divorce her, but have no other legal remedy. I mention this because it might occur to you that--you will excuse me--that the situation is a profitable one. It is nothing of the kind. On the threat of exposure they would simply leave England at once. Nothing could induce them to part--be quite sure of that. The man, as I said, has a high position, and you might be tempted to suppose that--to speak coa.r.s.ely--he would pay blackmail. Don't think it for a moment. He is far too wise to persevere in what would be a lost game; they would at once go abroad. It is only on the stage that men consent to pay for the keeping of a secret which is quite certain not to be kept."

Northway had followed with eager attention, pinching his long throat and drawing in his cheeks.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"To remain here in Bristol for a week or so longer. I will then telegraph to you, and tell you where to meet me."

"Is it far from here?"

"A couple of hours' journey, or so. If you will allow me, I will pay your fare at once."

He took out a sovereign, which Northway, after a moment's hesitation, accepted.

"Do you take any interest in the elections?" Glazzard asked.

"Not much," replied the other, rea.s.suming his intellectual air. "One party is as worthless as the other from my point of view."

"I'm glad to hear that--you'll understand why when we meet again. And, indeed, I quite agree with you."

"Politics are no use nowadays," pursued Northway. "The questions of the time are social. We want a party that is neither Liberal nor Tory."

"Exactly.--Well, now, may I depend upon you?"

"I'll come when you send for me."

"Very well. I have your address."

He stood up, hesitated a moment, and offered his hand, which Northway took without raising his eyes.

"I shall walk on into Clifton; so here we say good-bye for the present.--A week or ten days."

"I suppose you won't alter your mind, Mr.--Mr. Marks?"

"Not the least fear of that. I have a public duty to discharge."

So speaking, and with a peculiar smile on his lips, Glazzard walked away. Northway watched him and seemed tempted to follow, but at length went down the hill.

CHAPTER XVIII

Disappointed in his matrimonial project, the Rev. Scatchard Vialls devoted himself with acrid zeal to the interests of the Conservative party. He was not the most influential of the Polterham clerics, for women in general rather feared than liked him; a sincere ascetic, he moved but awkwardly in the regions of tea and tattle, and had an uncivil habit of speaking what he thought the truth without regard to time, place, or person. Some of his sermons had given offence, with the result that several ladies betook themselves to gentler preachers. But the awe inspired by his religious enthusiasm was practically useful now that he stood forward as an a.s.sailant of the political principles held in dislike by most Polterham church-goers. There was a little band of district-visitors who stood by him the more resolutely for the coldness with which worldly women regarded him; and these persons, with their opportunities of making interest in poor households, const.i.tuted a party agency not to be despised. They worked among high and low with an unscrupulous energy to which it is not easy to do justice. Wheedling or menacing--doing everything indeed but argue--they blended the cause of Mr. Welwyn-Baker and that of the Christian religion so inextricably that the wives of humble electors came to regard the Tory candidate as Christ's vicegerent upon earth, and were convinced that their husbands'

salvation depended upon a Tory vote.

One Sunday, Mr. Vialls took for his text, "But rather seek ye the kingdom of G.o.d, and all these things shall be added unto you." He began by pointing out how very improper it would be for a clergyman to make the pulpit an ally of the hustings; far indeed be it from him to discourse in that place of party questions--to speak one word which should have for its motive the advancements of any electioneering cause. But in these times of social discontent and upheaval it must not be forgotten that eternal verities were at stake. There were men--there were mult.i.tudes, alas! who made it the object of their life-long endeavour to oust Christianity from the world; if not avowedly, at all events in fact. Therefore would he describe to them in brief, clear sentences what really was implied in a struggle between the parties commonly known as Conservative and Liberal. He judged no individual; he spoke only of principles, of a spirit, an att.i.tude. The designs of Russia, the troubles in Ireland--of these things he knew little and recked less; they were "party shibboleths," and did not concern a Christian minister in his pulpit. But deeper lay the interests for which parties nowadays were in truth contending. It had come to this: are we to believe, or are we _not_ to believe that the "kingdom of G.o.d"

must have precedence of worldly goods? The working cla.s.ses of this country--ah, how sad to have to speak with condemnation of the poor!--were being led to think that the only object worth striving after was an improvement of their material condition. Marvellous to say, they were encouraged in this view by people whom Providence had blessed with all the satisfactions that earth can give. When the wealthy, the educated thus repudiated the words of Christ, what could be expected of those whom supreme Goodness has destined to a subordinate lot? No! material improvement was _not_ the first thing, even for those unhappy people (victims for the most part of their own improvident or vicious habits) who had scarcely bread to eat and raiment wherewith to clothe themselves. Let them seek the kingdom of G.o.d, and these paltry, temporal things shall surely be added unto them.

This sermon was printed at the office of the _Polterham Mercury_, and distributed freely throughout the town. He had desired no such thing, said Mr. Vialls, but the pressure of friends was irresistible. In private, meanwhile, he spoke fiercely against the Radical candidate, and never with such acrimony as in Mrs. Mumbray's drawing-room when Serena was present. One afternoon he stood up, tea-cup in hand, and, as his habit was, delivered a set harangue on the burning topic.

"In one respect," he urged, after many other accusations, "I consider that Mr. Quarrier is setting the very worst, the most debasing, the most demoralizing example to these working folk, whose best interests he professes to have at heart. I am a.s.sured (and the witness of my own eyes in one instance warrants me in giving credit to the charge) that he constantly enters public-houses, taverns, even low dram-shops, to satisfy his thirst for strong liquor in the very face of day, before the eyes of any one who may happen to be pa.s.sing. This is simply abominable If an honourable man has one duty--one social duty--more inc.u.mbent upon him than another, it is to refrain from setting an example of intemperance."

Serena had listened thus far with a look of growing irritation. At length she could resist no longer the impulse to speak out.

"But surely, Mr. Vialls, you don't charge Mr. Quarrier with intemperance?"

"I do, Miss Mumbray," replied the clergyman, sternly. "Intemperance does not necessarily imply drunkenness. It is intemperate to enter public-houses at all hours and in all places, even if the liquor partaken of has no obvious effect upon the gait or speech of the drinker. I maintain"----

"Mr. Quarrier does not go about as you would have us believe."

"Serena!" interfered her mother. "Do you contradict Mr. Vialls?"

"Yes, mother, I do, and every one ought to who _knows_ that he is exaggerating. I have heard this calumny before, and I have been told how it has arisen. Mr. Quarrier takes a gla.s.s of beer when he is having a long country walk; and why he shouldn't quench his thirst I'm sure I can't understand."

"Miss Mumbray," said the clergyman, glaring at her, yet affecting forbearance, "you seem to forget that our cottagers are not so inhospitable as to refuse a gla.s.s of water to the weary pedestrian who knocks at their door."