The Man Who Rose Again

by Joseph Hocking

And she spoke the truth. Never did she feel towards him as she did that night. She forgot the impression he had first made upon her, forgot all the stories she had heard about him. She thought only of her pride in him, and the great future which lay before him. And with it all came the consciousness that she had caused the change. She was giving him nobler thoughts of life; she was making him realise the great powers which had been lying dormant. It was something to be proud of. To be the means of making a possible great man to realise his greatness, and of bringing into life latent powers of which even he had not been conscious.

Visions rose before her mind of what he would be. She had read the history of the career of men like the younger Pitt, of John Bright, of Disraeli, of Gladstone, and she believed that Leicester was equal to the best of them. She saw him the leader of a people, voicing their wants, and interpreting their language; she saw him a prophet, revealing to the world the deeper meanings of a nation's life. And she was the instrument chosen for his salvation. He had learnt to love her, he had declared that if he was to be anything but a cynic, a scoffer, it must be through her. She was his inspiration, his lode-star, his hope. For her, and with her by his side, he could do anything.

She believed it now. In her excitement she compared his speech with the brilliant orations of the great leaders. She was sure that Leicester's powers were of the same order as the powers of Macaulay and Burke. And she—she was the instrument used by God to make everything possible.

As she walked back to Taviton Grange, her hand resting on his arm, she seemed to be treading on air. Her life seemed enlarged, her purpose in living seemed greater. She was willing to forget herself, to sink her own personality, so that the man she had accepted as her husband might be the man God intended him to be.

John Castlemaine had been at the meeting also, and while not a believer in all his political doctrines, was also carried away by the brilliance of Leicester's speech. He felt proud of his future son-in-law; and he was sure that Olive had done wisely in accepting him as her husband.

So far Leicester had been true to his promise to Olive. He had never touched alcohol since the day he had asked her to be his wife. Sometimes the craving had been terrible, but he had resisted. He had even borne the covert sneers of his acquaintances without retort. What had begun in a grim and unworthy joke had become to him the great motive power of his life.

Indeed, but for one thing, Leicester was supremely happy. He could never think of the compact which led to his introduction to her without shame, and he had a great dread lest in some way it should come to her ears. More than once, after his engagement had become known, he had sought to obtain an interview with Purvis and Sprague and Winfield; but for a long time the opportunity which he sought did not come, and he was too proud to seek them for the ostensible purpose of speaking to them about it.

One day in February, however, he saw them together. He had come to his club late one night, and found them alone in the smoking-room. He had spent the evening with Olive, and had come back by the last train. As may be imagined, neither Sprague nor Purvis felt very kindly towards him. No man looks kindly on a successful rival. It angered them also when they remembered that it was through their instrumentality that the engagement had come to pass.

They had been talking about Leicester before he came in. Like many others, they did not believe in his sincerity. How could Leicester, the cynic, the scoffer at women, the man who when under the influence of whisky had made a wager that he could win a woman, love the woman he had won? Was it not simply to win his wager that he was playing this part?

"For my own part," said Winfield, "I believe him to be sincere. What begun in a jest has ended in earnest. When he met Miss Castlemaine, he, who for years had avoided women, realised how wrong he had been. He has evidently fallen deeply in love, and I for my part am glad that she accepted him. Leicester will be a fine fellow, and will have a great future. I hear he never touches drink now."