Vaughan hastened to appeal to him. “Sir Charles,” he said, “I will abide by your decision! Though I do not know, indeed, that I ought to take any man’s decision on a point which touches my honour!”
“Oh!” Wetherell said in an inimitable tone. “Court of Honour, is it?” And he cast a queer look round the circle. “That’s it, is it? Well, I dare say I’m eligible. I dare swear I know as much about honour as Brougham about equity! Or the Sergeant there”—Wathen reddened angrily—“about law! Or Captain McShane here about his beloved country! Yes,” he continued, amid the unconcealed grins of those of the party whose weak points had escaped, “you may proceed, I think.”
“You are a friend, Sir Charles,” Vaughan said, in a voice which quivered with anxiety, “you are a friend of Sir Robert Vermuyden’s?”
“Well, I won’t deny him until I know more!” Wetherell answered quaintly. “What of it?”
“You know what occurred at Chippinge before the election?”
“And what passed between Sir Robert Vermuyden and me?” Vaughan continued, eagerly.
“I think I do,” Wetherell answered. “In the main I do.”
“Thank you, Sir Charles. Then I appeal to you. You are opposed to me in politics, but you will do me justice. These gentlemen have thought fit to brand me here and now as a turncoat; and, worse, as one who was—who was elected”—he could scarcely speak for passion—“in opposition to Sir Robert’s, to my relative’s candidates, under circumstances dishonourable to me!”
“And I ask you, sir, is there a word of truth in that charge?”
Wetherell had his eyes fixed gloomily on the pavement. He appeared to weigh the matter a moment or two. Then he shook his head.
“Quite, quite,” the other answered slowly, as he took out his snuffbox. “To tell the truth, gentlemen,” he continued, in the same melancholy tone, “Mr. Vaughan was fool enough to quarrel with his bread and butter for the sake of the most worthless, damnable and mistaken convictions any man ever held! That’s the truth. He showed himself a very perfect fool, but an honourable and an honest fool—and that’s a rare thing. I see none here.”
No one laughed at the gibe, and he turned to Vaughan, who stood, relieved indeed, but stiff and uncomfortable, uncertain what to do next. “I’ll take your arm,” he said. “I’ve saved you,” coolly, “from the ragged regiment on my side. Do you take me safe,” he continued, with a look towards the lower end of the Hall, “through your ragged regiment outside, my lad!”