Kate had taken immense pride in the renewal of the match between her brother and her cousin, and had rejoiced in it greatly as being her own work. But all that pride and joy were now over. She could no longer write triumphant notes to Alice, speaking always of George as one who was to be their joint hero, foretelling great things of his career in Parliament, and saying little soft things of his enduring love. It was no longer possible to her now to write of George at all, and it was equally impossible to Alice. Indeed, no letters passed between them, when that monetary correspondence was over, up to the end of the winter. Kate remained down in Westmoreland, wretched and ill at ease, listening to hard words spoken by her grandfather against her brother, and feeling herself unable to take her brother’s part as she had been wont to do in other times.
George returned to town at the end of those four days, and found that the thousand pounds was duly placed to his credit before the end of the month. It is hardly necessary to tell the reader that this money had come from the stores of Mr. Tombe, and that Mr. Tombe duly debited Mr. Grey with the amount. Alice, in accordance with her promise, had told her father that the money was needed, and her father, in accordance with his promise, had procured it without a word of remonstrance. “Surely I must sign some paper,” Alice had said. But she had been contented when her father told her that the lawyers would manage all that.
It was nearly the end of February when George Vavasor made his first payment to Mr. Scruby on behalf of the coming election; and when he called at Mr. Scruby’s office with this object, he received some intelligence which surprised him not a little. “You haven’t heard the news,” said Scruby. “What news?” said George.
“The Marquis is as nearly off the hooks as a man can be.” Mr. Scruby, as he communicated the tidings, showed clearly by his face and voice that they were supposed to be of very great importance; but Vavasor did not at first seem to be as much interested in the fate of “the Marquis” as Scruby had intended.
“I’m very sorry for him,” said George. “Who is the Marquis? There’ll be sure to come another, so it don’t much signify.”
“There will come another, and that’s just it. It’s the Marquis of Bunratty; and if he drops, our young Member will go into the Upper House.”
“What, immediately; before the end of the Session?” George, of course, knew well enough that such would be the case, but the effect which this event would have upon himself now struck him suddenly.
“To be sure,” said Scruby. “The writ would be out immediately. I should be glad enough of it, only that I know that Travers’s people have heard of it before us, and that they are ready to be up with their posters directly the breath is out of the Marquis’s body. We must go to work immediately; that’s all.”
“It will only be for part of a Session,” said George.
“Just so,” said Mr. Scruby.
“And then there’ll be the cost of another election.”
“That’s true,” said Mr. Scruby; “but in such cases we do manage to make it come a little cheaper. If you lick Travers now, it may be that you’ll have a walkover for the next.”
“Have you seen Grimes?” asked George.
“Yes, I have; the blackguard! He is going to open his house on Travers’s side. He came to me as bold as brass, and told me so, saying that he never liked gentlemen who kept him waiting for his odd money. What angers me is that he ever got it.”
“We have not managed it very well, certainly,” said Vavasor, looking nastily at the attorney.
“We can’t help those little accidents, Mr. Vavasor. There are worse accidents than that turn up almost daily in my business. You may think yourself almost lucky that I haven’t gone over to Travers myself. He is a Liberal, you know; and it hasn’t been for want of an offer, I can tell you.”
Vavasor was inclined to doubt the extent of his luck in this respect, and was almost disposed to repent of his Parliamentary ambition. He would now be called upon to spend certainly not less than three thousand pounds of his cousin’s money on the chance of being able to sit in Parliament for a few months. And then, after what a fashion would he be compelled to negotiate that loan! He might, to be sure, allow the remainder of this Session to run, and stand, as he had intended, at the general election; but he knew that if he now allowed a Liberal to win the seat, the holder of the seat would be almost sure of subsequent success. He must either fight now, or give up the fight altogether; and he was a man who did not love to abandon any contest in which he had been engaged.
“Well, Squire,” said Scruby, “how is it to be?” And Vavasor felt that he detected in the man’s voice some diminution of that respect with which he had hitherto been treated as a paying candidate for a metropolitan borough.
“This lord is not dead yet,”
