"You need not be alarmed," he said, with a forced smile.
"You will die," cried Andrew, "before they send you to the House of Lords?"
"In which case the gain would be all to those left behind."
"No," said Andrew, who now felt that he had as good as gained the day; "there could not be a greater mistake.
"Suppose it happened to-night, or even put it off to the end of the week; see what would follow.
"The ground you have lost so far is infinitesimal. It would be forgotten in the general regret.
"Think of the newspaper placards next morning, some of them perhaps edged with black; the leaders in every London paper and in all the prominent provincial ones; the six columns obituary in the 'Times'; the paragraphs in the 'World'; the motion by Mr. Gladstone or Mr. Healy for the adjournment of the House; the magazine articles; the promised memoirs; the publication of posthumous papers; the resolution in the Northampton Town Council; the statue in Hyde Park! With such a recompense where would be the sacrifice?"
Mr. Labouchere rose and paced the room in great mental agitation.
"Now look at the other side of the picture," said Andrew, rising and following him: "'Truth' reduced to threepence, and then to a penny; yourself confused with Tracy Turnerelli or Martin Tupper; your friends running when you looked like jesting; the House emptying, the reporters shutting their note-books as you rose to speak; the great name of Labouchere become a synonym for bore!"
They presented a strange picture in that room, its owner's face now a greyish white, his supplicant shaking with a passion that came out in perspiration.