“No; I never vote—I do not consider it a part of a pastor’s work. But I certainly shall not influence Ursula.”
“Oh, be hanged to you!” retorted Mopius, immensely put out. “But I’ll undertake to manage Ursula without any influence of yours. Drive on, coachman—to the Horst.”
The Dominé crept away to his sanctum with slow shakes of the head. He reflected that Mopius might have been right about “letting off the steam.” But what can one do? Has Pericles not said that, “He who knows a thing to be right, but does not clearly explain it, is no better than he who does not know.” Again the Dominé shook his head, and, with a mechanical glance at the foxed engraving of Havelock, he hurried to his easy-chair and his Bible.
Mopius meanwhile was hastening to his second and far more important interview. Gradually his ruffled feathers smoothed down, and he smiled with a certain complacence. Rovers had always been a wrong-headed fellow, and therefore obstinate. “Head-strong and head-wrong” was a favorite formula with Mopius, who, of course, considered himself to be neither. He had disapproved of Mary’s marriage, although not knowing Captain Rovers at the time. Mary was handsome, he said, and might have done better. Besides, some exceptionally important people disapprove of all their relations’ marriages on principle.
Mopius was now the official candidate of the Radical party. He had explained that he was uncle to the Baroness van Helmont of the Horst, and everybody had immediately understood his fitness for the post he coveted. For the influence of the Lady of the Manor must be all-decisive. It wanted but a word passed round to the tenants, and the election was secure. Was Mynheer Mopius assured of his niece’s support? So many of these high-born ladies had a weakness for religion. It was old-fashioned, of course, and the worse for wear, but they inherited it, like the family jewels, or gout.
Mynheer Mopius shrewdly closed his eyelids. The movement was eloquent of quiet strength. If that was all they wanted, he could set them at rest. He had his little plan.
Well, that was all they wanted. He need only bring them a signed declaration from Ursula, and they would recognize him. So he started for the Horst to fetch it. Meanwhile—such things leak out—he was practically their candidate already.
Only the Baron van Trossart had been disagreeable and exacting. But he was notoriously an ill-tempered man. He had muttered stupid insinuations about wolves in sheep’s clothing. And he had finally insisted upon a written obligation from Mopius—“quite between you and me, of course”—that the latter would always and unconditionally vote with the Liberal party.
“Why, of course, Mynheer the Baron,” Jacóbus had said, eagerly. “You must have misunderstood me when we met in Mynheer van Troyen’s smoking-room. ‘Always and unconditionally vote with the Liberal party.’ Where shall I sign it? I have not the slightest objection. You will support me, I hope?”