“I have urged him to be firm. Christianity was never yet at peace with its age. There is no other Faith whose first teacher was persecuted and crucified. Viewed solely as a point of administration, it is disastrous to cut religious thought according to the fashionable pattern of the hour. This has been the constant weakness of English Churchmen. They try to match eternity with the times.”
“My opinion is that Reckage must act with considerable caution, or he will find himself repudiated by every party. The English like a fellow to stand by his guns. I come now to your own business. Will you do me a favour? Before you reply let me define it. I have been asked to send some good speaker to Hanborough. The occasion is the opening of a Free Library. Remarks—of a laudatory nature—on the princely munificence of Hanborough's mayor, Hanborough's corporation, Hanborough's leading citizens, a eulogy of their public glories and private virtues—with a little thrown in about Shakespeare, Scott, and the Lord-Lieutenant of the county—would be adequately appreciated. The attendance will be large: the nobility, gentry, and clergy of the neighbourhood will flower about you on the platform; a banquet will follow in the evening, and in the morning blushing girls will hand you bouquets at the railway station. Can you refuse?”
“Not easily, I admit,” said Robert, laughing; “but Reckage is rather low and unhappy just now about his broken engagement. Wouldn't such an adventure as this take him out of himself?”
“This is not an adventure—this is an opportunity,” said Disraeli; “it would be nursed into a stepping-stone. I know fifty men who are worrying themselves to death to get it.”
“You need not tell me that,” replied Robert, with gratitude. “It would be a great thing for me. But Reckage is always at his best in functions of the kind. Hanborough might make much of him, and then his Association would feel flattered by reflected honours.”
“You invariably set your face against your own advantages, and I am afraid I shall not live to see you where you ought to be. However, Reckage shall have the invitation. Now, good-night. By the by, have you heard that Castrillon is now in the marriage-market? His mistress has given her consent, and the Prince has promised his blessing. Could things look more auspicious? Good-night.”
For the second time that evening Castrillon's name fell with a warning note on Robert's ear. Disraeli, he knew, would not have mentioned him out of sheer idleness. There was some danger threatening in that quarter, and it was impossible to dissociate this from Brigit. The Marquis of Castrillon had been with her in Madrid, and also at Baron Zeuill's palace after the escape from Loadilla.
“Where is Castrillon now?” asked Robert.
“I understand he is in London,” answered Disraeli; “at Claridge's Hotel. D'Alchingen and he are on excellent terms.”
“Good!” said Robert, tightening his lips. “You will find he has been invited to Hadley.”