"Last night?"
"Last night! I was present at the Mechanics' Institute, sitting in the gallery with my maid and her brother as escort. I had heard much of your eloquence, and wanted to be convinced. It seems I selected a specially good occasion. You were particularly scathing."
"I spoke what I felt----"
"No doubt; you could not have spoken so without having felt all you described, so that I can completely imagine how you feel towards me. But you are a sensible man, as well as a good speaker, and that is why I have determined to apply to you."
"What do you want, Mrs. Creswell?"
"I want you to go out of this place, Mr. Joyce; to take your name off the walls, and your candidature out of the county! I want you to give up your opposition to my husband. You are too strong for him--you personally; not your cause, but you. We know that; the last three days have convinced everybody of that, and you'll win the election if you stop."
Joyce laughed aloud. "I know I shall," he said, his eyes gleaming.
"What then?" said Marian, quietly. "Do you know what a poor member of Parliament is, 'hanging on' at every one's beck and call, bunted by all, respected by none, not knowing which to serve most as most likely to be able to serve him--would you like to be that, would your pride suffer that? That's all these people want of you--to make you their tool, their party's tool; for you yourself they have not the remotest care. Do you hear?"
"I do. But you have not told me, Mrs. Creswell, what I should get for retiring?"
"Your own terms, Walter Joyce, whatever they were. A competence for life--enough to give you leisure to follow the life in which, as I understand, you have engaged, in ease, when and where you liked. No drudgery, no anxiety, all your own settled on yourself!"