“Sir,” he said, “don’t think I don’t appreciate your care for the people, or that I don’t know you wish to do good. I’m very sure of that; and Saul had heard a good deal more than was good for him before he ever met you. But knowing that a gentleman such as you felt with him went a long way with him—seemed to turn the scale altogether, if you know what I mean. But I’m not saying he might not have gone as far without, if he’d taken up with the lads of Pentreath as he’s lately done. However, he seems to have took altogether against Pentreath now, and spends his time down on the shore with the fisher-folk. He’ll be glad enough to see you, sir, I doubt not. It isn’t many as he’s got a welcome for, but I think he’ll have it for you.”
“And I’ll try and see that he is none the worse for my visit,” said Eustace, with a grave smile; and then he walked back to the castle, for the dinner-hour had all but arrived.
His face was grave and absorbed as he took his seat. The conversation with Abner had left a painful impression on his mind. He felt like a man on the horns of a dilemma. His whole heart was in the cause of reform. He felt that he was pledged to it, and that he must give his whole life and energies to it, come what might; and yet at every turn he was confronted by problems past his power to solve. He had worked amongst the people—and behold, his most promising pupil had been spending the winter in jail, and had but just come forth shattered in body and mind. He might do more good by sitting in Parliament and fighting the battle there—that indeed was his great desire; but to do so he must take a step which seemed in a sense to be a sacrifice of principle and self-respect. He seemed hedged in by difficulties all ways; but his resolution did not waver.
“Once let me get this seat, and the knot will be cut,” he kept saying to himself, as the meal proceeded in its quiet stately course; and feeling that the sooner the plunge was taken the better it would he, he only waited until the servants had withdrawn at the conclusion of the meal before he spoke out freely and frankly.
“Uncle,” he said, with an abruptness that was the result of repressed excitement, “last year, before you knew much of my views on politics, you offered to give me a seat in Parliament upon the first opportunity. That opportunity has now come, and I have come to remind you of your offer, and to ask you whether—knowing my views—you still feel disposed to give it me. Your old friend has retired, as you told me he would. He will not sit again. I want, above all things, to be a member of that House which will—if I mistake not greatly—have the honour of passing that measure which will be the keystone to the prosperity of England. I believe that there is no doubt as to the composition of the next House of Commons. The voice of the nation cannot longer be misunderstood or ignored. It will be a great and a glorious time for England, and I want to have the great honour and privilege of serving her at this crisis. Will you give me that seat of which you spoke, that I may realise this ambition and happiness?”
“And pass a measure about which I feel the very gravest doubts, and which, I fear, may prove anything but the keystone to greatness and prosperity?” said the Duke.
“I know, sir, we do not think alike on this subject. It is scarcely likely we should. But you have had enough experience of the ways of the world to be aware that the advancing wave cannot be turned back. If these most crucial and important measures are to be passed, is it not better that they should be drawn up and passed by men of birth and station, men of education and sound principle? Without claiming for myself qualifications which I do not possess, or any very great amount of experience in legislating, I think I have the qualities I have named; and I am a Marchmont, and the Marchmonts have not shown themselves deficient either in ability or in governing power in days of yore. I cannot but feel that you would prefer your kinsman in the House to a mere stranger; and I would remember and respect your scruples and injunctions, and would place them before my colleagues, giving them all due weight and respect.”
The Duke smiled slightly.
“The boy talks as though he would be a cabinet minister at once!” he remarked to the room at large. “Do you suppose anybody will pay any attention to what a tyro like you will think or speak? and, for my own part, if I have anything to say to the bill which I hold to be worth saying, I can go to Westminster and say it for myself.”
“Yes, in the Upper House,” said Eustace; “but it is in the Commons that the battle will be fought.”