LADY MACBETH.
'Here it is,' said the captain. 'Beaten'—then came an oath—'three
votes—how the devil was that?—there it is, by Jove—no
mistake—majority against ministers, three! Is that the "Times?" What
does it say?'
'A long leader—no resignation—immediate dissolution. That is what I
collect from it.'
'How on earth could they have miscalculated so! Swivell, I see, voted in
the majority; that's very odd; and, by Jove, there's Surplice, too, and
he's good for seven votes. Why his own paper was backing the ministers! What a fellow that is! That accounts for it all. A difference of fourteen votes.'
And thus we went on, discussing this unexpected turn of luck, and reading
to one another snatches of the leading articles in different interests
upon the subject.
Then Lake, recollecting his letters, opened a large-sealed envelope, with
S.C.G. in the corner.
'This is from Gybes—let us see. Oh! before the division. "It looks a
little fishy," he says—well, so it does—"We may take the division
to-night. Should it prove adverse, you are to expect an immediate
dissolution; this on the best authority. I write to mention this, as I
may be too much hurried to-morrow."'
We were discussing this note when Wealdon arrived.
'Well, captain; great news, Sir. The best thing, I take it, could have
happened ministers, ha, ha, ha! A rotten house—down with it—blow it
up—three votes only—but as good as three hundred for the purpose—of
the three hundred, grant but three, you know—of course, they don't think
of resigning.'
'Oh, dear, no—an immediate dissolution. Read that,' said Lake, tossing
Gybes' note to him.
'Ho, then, we'll have the writs down hot and heavy. We must be sharp. The
sheriff's all right; that's a point. You must not lose an hour in getting
your committee together, and printing your address.'
'Who's on the other side?'
'You'll have Jennings, of course; but they are talking of four different
men, already, to take Sir Harry Twisden's place. He'll resign; that's
past a doubt now. He has his retiring address written; Lord Edward Mordun
read it; and he told FitzStephen on Sunday, after church, that he'd never
sit again.'
'Here, by Jove, is a letter from Mowbray,' said Lake, opening it. 'All
about his brother George. Hears I'm up for the county. Lord George ready
to join and go halves. What shall I say?'
'Could not have a better man. Tell him you desire no better, and will
bring it at once before your committee; and let him know, the moment they
meet; and tell him I say he knows Wealdon pretty well—he may look on
it as settled. That will be a spoke in Sir Harry's wheel.'
'Sir Harry who?' said Lake.
'Bracton. I think it's only to spoil your game, you see,' answered
Wealdon.
'Abundance of malice; but I don't think he's countenanced?'
'He'll try to get the start of you; and if he does, one or other must go
to the wall; for Lord George is too strong to be shook out. Do you get
forward at once; that's your plan, captain.'
Then the captain recurred to his letters, which were a larger pack than
usual this morning, chatting all the time with Wealdon and me on the
tremendous topic, and tossing aside every letter that did not bear on the
coming struggle.
'Who can this be?' said Lake, looking at the address of one of these. 'Very like my hand,' and he examined the seal. It was only a large wafer-stamp, so he broke it open, and drew out a shabby, very ill-written scroll. He turned suddenly away, talking the while, but with his eyes upon the note, and then he folded, or rather crumpled it up, and stuffed it into his pocket, and continued his talk; but it was now plain to me there was something more on his mind, and he was thinking of the shabby letter he had just received.
But, no matter; the election was the pressing topic, and Lake was soon
engaged in it again.
There was now a grand coup under discussion—the forestalling of all
the horses and vehicles along the line of railway, and in all the
principal posting establishments throughout the county.