MR. AYRTON: Sir, I bow to the ruling of the chair, and will continue by inquiring if Her Majesty's Minister for the Public Worship Department can state to the House if it is true that a newspaper published within the Princ.i.p.ality of Wales recently made the announcement that the honorable member who had just made inquiries regarding the exploration of Mr. Herbert Courtland, was the idol of his const.i.tuents [Laughter, and cries of "Order!"], and if the right honorable gentleman is prepared to state that the provisions of the Idolatry Act are--

THE SPEAKER: The honorable member is clearly out of order. The question of idolatry in Wales is not at present before the House.

MR. AYRTON: Sir, I give notice that next session I shall move a resolution regarding idolatry in the Princ.i.p.ality of Wales [Laughter and cheers.]

The minister for Annexation was about to rise when

MR. MUDLARKY (Ballynamuck) asked if the introduction of the guinea pigs would be prejudicial to the interests of the higher and n.o.bler Irish animal who, he would remind the Minister for Public Worship, was not to be confounded with the herd whose example was clearly emulated by the present government in seeking self-destruction by running down a steep place into the sea. (Cries of "Order, order!") If there was any doubt before, the honorable member continued, as to the influence which was at work in that Gadarene herd, which a.s.sumed the functions of Her Majesty's government, the sounds that now came from the Treasury Benches would convince even the most skeptical that sacred history is sometimes repeated by profane, but he could not compliment the devils, who had the bad taste to--(Several honorable members here rose amid the cheers of the Irish Members, and a scene of confusion took place.)

THE SPEAKER [sternly]: Order, Order! The honorable member from Ballynamuck must resume his seat. He is out of order. The question before the House is not the good taste of demoniac visitants. I call upon the right honorable gentleman, the Minister for the Department of Annexation.

MR. McCULLUM (Blairpukey Burghs): Mr. Speaker, one moment. To save time, will the right honorable gentleman say if the Highland Crofters, whose land was stolen from them in order that the members of the Upper House--

THE SPEAKER: Order! The Minister for the Department of Annexation.

MR. BLISTER (Battersea, Mid): Mr. Speaker, though I don't do any work myself, I'm the representative of labor, only those contemptible skunks, the workingmen, don't see that they have a man for a leader--a man, that's me--that's Joe Blister. And as the Upper House has been introduced, I'll run, eat, or swear with the best of that lot of tap-room loafers; I'll do anything but fight them--except, of course, on a labor platform, and if--

THE SPEAKER: The honorable member is out of order. The Minister for the Department of Annexations.

THE MINISTER FOR ANNEXATIONS: No, sir; I have no information [Cheers and laughter.]

The House then went into Committee of Supply.

CHAPTER XV.

BUT MR. COURTLAND----AH, NEVER MIND!

Mr. Ayrton entertained his daughter with a description of the scene in the House incidental to the annihilation of Mr. Apthomas. He rather thought himself that his counter-question had been neat. He had been congratulated on it by quite a number of his friends in the tea room, and six messages had been delivered to him by representatives of the press to the effect that if he could provide them with the exact text of his counter-question they would be greatly obliged.

"They mean to report it in full?" said Phyllis. She had an ample experience of the decimation of his questions as well as speeches by the members of the press gallery. They had reduced it to a science.

"I am much mistaken if they don't comment on it as well," said her father. "Poor Apthomas! he alone sat glum and mute while everyone around him was convulsed."

"I hope that Mr. Courtland will not feel hurt at what has occurred,"

said Phyllis doubtfully.

"Mr. Courtland? Who is Mr. Courtland? What has Mr. Courtland to say to the matter? What business is it of his, I should like to know."

"Well, considering that he was the original subject of the questions, though I must confess that he didn't remain long so, I don't think it altogether unreasonable to wonder what he will think about the whole episode," remarked Phyllis.

"Ah, you always do take an original view of such incidents," said her father indulgently. "It is so like a woman to try and drag poor Courtland into the business. You ought to know better than to fancy that any interest attaches to the original subject of a question in the House. You'll be suggesting next that some credit should be given to the youths who pa.s.s brilliant examinations in things, and that all should not be absorbed by their grinders."

"I'm not so silly as that, papa," said she. "No; but Mr.

Courtland----Ah, never mind."

He did not mind.

It so happened, however, that several of the newspapers which commented on the questions and counter-questions the next day introduced the name of Mr. Herbert Courtland and his explorations; though, of course, most attention was directed to what Mr. Ayrton's party called the brilliant, and the other party the flippant, methods of Mr. Ayrton. His reference to the New Guinea pig some thought a trifle too personal to be in good taste, but if politicians refrained from personalities and were punctilious in matters of taste, what chance would they have of "scoring," and where would the caricaturists be? The reputation of a politician is steadily built up nowadays, not by consistency, certainly; not by brilliant rhetoric; not even by the unscrupulous exercise of a faculty for organizing impromptu "scenes," but by the wearing of a necktie, or a boot, or a waistcoat that is susceptible of caricature.

A very ordinary young man has before now been lifted into fame by the twists of his mustache, and another of less than mediocre ability has been prevented from sinking in the flood of forgetfulness by the kindly efforts of a caricaturist who supported him by a simple lock on his scalp. Thus it was that Mr. Apthomas found himself famous before a week had pa.s.sed, through the circ.u.mstance of being represented in the leading journal of caricature as a guinea pig, flying, with the spoil of bubble boards of directors under his arm, from the attack of a number of quaint-looking mammals wearing collars inscribed "ACCURACY," "CORRECT BALANCE SHEETS," "LEGITIMATE SPECULATIONS," and other phrases that suggested the need for the old guinea pig to give way to a new breed.

Underneath the picture was printed a portion of the counter-question of Mr. Ayrton, and opposite to it were some verses with a jingling refrain that everyone could remember, and which everyone quoted during the next few days.

The firm of publishers who had been fortunate enough to secure the issue of Mr. Courtland's new book were delighted. If Mr. Ayrton could only have seen his way to introduce their names and their address in his counter-question, their cup of happiness would have been complete, they said. They managed, however, to induce the proprietors of a young lady who was reputed to be the vulgarest and most fascinating of all music-hall artistes, to introduce Mr. Courtland's name into one of the movable stanzas of her most popular lyric: those stanzas which are changed from week to week, so as to touch upon the topics which are uppermost in the minds--well, not exactly the minds--of the public. It is scarcely necessary to say that this form of advertis.e.m.e.nt is worth columns of the daily papers; and if Mr. Courtland had only shown himself appreciative of his best interests and had changed the t.i.tle of his book to "The Land of the New Guinea Pig," instead of "The Quest of the Meteor-Bird," they would have gone to press with an extra thousand copies.

But even as it was they knew that between the member of Parliament and the music-hall young lady the sale of the book was a certainty.

Their calculations were not at fault. The publishers sent a liberal subscription to the Nonconformist Eastern Mission, whose agents had stimulated public curiosity in Mr. Courtland's new book by suggesting that he had carried out, single-handed, one of the most atrocious ma.s.sacres of recent years; and a diamond brooch to the music-hall young lady who had so kindly worked in the reference to the book after dancing one of her most daring hornpipes in the uniform of a midshipman; they doubled the lines of their announcements in the advertising columns of the paper that had issued the cartoon of the New Guinea Pig, and, finally, they sent a presentation copy of "The Quest of the Meteor-Bird," to Mr. Ayrton.

Then, as everyone was humming the lines of the music-hall young lady:

"From the land of far New Guinea Came a little pig-a-ninny,"

the daily papers were bound to give two-column reviews to the book on the day of its publication; and as the rod which Moses cast down before Pharaoh swallowed up the wriggling rods of the magicians, the interest attaching to Mr. Courtland's book absorbed that which attached to all the other books of the season, including "Revised Versions," though the publishers of the latter moved heaven and earth (that is to say, the bishop and the people's churchwarden) to get the Rev. George Holland prosecuted. If either had been susceptible to reason, and had got up a case against their author, the publishers declared that Mr. Courtland's book would not have had a chance with "Revised Versions." To be sure they admitted that the report that Mr. Holland had been thrown over by the lady who had promised to marry him had given a jerk forward to the sales; but when Mr. George Holland had been so idiotically blind to his best interests and (incidentally) the best interests of his publishers, as to contradict this suggestion of incipient martyrdom, and thus an excellent advertis.e.m.e.nt had been lost, and everyone was, in a week or two, talking about "The Quest of the Meteor-Bird," while only a few continued shaking their heads over "Revised Versions."

Meantime, however, Mr. Courtland thought it well to call upon Mr. Ayrton in order to thank him for his kindness in replying in the House of Commons so effectively to the questions put to the various ministers by Mr. Apthomas; and Mr. Ayrton had asked Mr. Courtland to dinner, and Mr.

Courtland had accepted the invitation, Miss Ayrton begging Mrs. Linton to be of the party, and Mrs. Linton yielding to her pet.i.tion without demur.

CHAPTER XVI.

WOULD IT BE WELL WITH MY HUSBAND?

It was on their way back from this little dinner-party that Mr.

Courtland confessed to Ella Linton that he had come to think of her dearest friend as a most charming and original girl; she had never once referred to his achievements in New Guinea, nor had she asked him to write his name in her birthday book. Yes, she was not as other girls.

"I'm so delighted to hear you say so much," said Ella. "Oh, Bertie! why not make yourself happy with a sweet girl such as she, and give no more thought to such absurdities as you have been indulging in? Believe me, you don't know so well as I do in what direction your happiness lies."

"I don't know anything about happiness," said he. "I don't seem to care much, either. When I made up my mind to find the meteor-bird, don't you suppose that there were many people who told me that, even if it was found, it was quite unlikely that it would be more succulent eating than a Dorking chicken? I'm sure they were right. You see, I didn't go to New Guinea in search of a barndoor fowl. I don't want domestic happiness, I don't want anything but you--you are my meteor-bird. I found, after my first visit to New Guinea, that it was impossible for me to rest until I had found the meteor-bird. I have found that it is impossible for me to live without you, my beloved."

"You will have to learn to live without me," said she, laying her hand upon his. They had now reached her house, so that no immediate reply was possible. He did not attempt to make a reply until they had gone into a small drawing room, and she had flung off her wrap. They were alone.

Then he knelt on the rug before her and took both her hands in his own--a hand in each of his hands--as they lay on her dress. His face was close to hers: she was in a low chair. Each could hear the sound of the other's breathing--the sound of the other's heart-beats. That duet went on for some minutes--the most perfect music in life--the music which is life itself--the music by which man becomes immortal.

"Do not hold me any longer, Bertie," said she. "Kiss me and go away--away. Oh, why should you ever come back? I believe that, if you loved me, you would go away and never come back. Oh, what is this farce that is being played between us? It is unworthy of either of us!"

"A farce? A tragedy!" said he. "I want you, Ella. I told you that I could not live without you."

"You want me? You want me, Bertie?" said she. Tears were in her eyes and in her voice, for there was to her a pa.s.sion of pathos in those words of his. "You want me, and you know that it is only my soul that shall be lost if I give myself to you. G.o.d has decreed that only the soul of the woman pays the penalty of the man's longing for her."

"You soul shall be saved, not lost," said he. "At present it is your soul that is in peril, when you give your sweetness to the man whom you have ceased to love--ah! whom you never loved. You will save your soul with me."

"I shall lose it for all eternity," said she. "Do you think that I complain? Do you fancy for a moment that I grumble at the decree of G.o.d, or that I rail against it as unjust?"

"You are a woman."

"I am a woman, and therefore you know I will one day be ready to lose my soul for you, Bertie, my love. Oh, my dear, dear love, you say you want me?"