"For the first time in my life I feel almost sorry for Mrs. Farquharson," said Lady Wereminster a few days later. "She's got the most extraordinarily furtive and hang-dog air; I met her just now in a Bond Street shop and touched her on the shoulder, and she started as if she were being shot. Are you going to the House to-morrow night, Evelyn? Mr. Calvert says the Government expects a rather furious attack upon this Treaty question; it will resolve itself, of course, mainly into a personal attack upon Richard Farquharson. He's hated by the Press, you know; I suppose because they can get nothing out of him. For that matter, I suppose all the public is longing to know something about this business of the Treaty; it involves so many issues. The prospect of a Continental war isn't cheering in view of the fact that our Army was decimated, and the strength of our Fleet lowered, by the late Government. One can't wipe out their mistakes with a sweep of the pen, or an eloquent word or two. By the way, my nephew was lucky in the ballot, and sent me two spare seats in the gallery. If you can come, I'll sit there with you if you like."
"Oh, I've been longing to go," said Evelyn. "How good you are. It seems to me that we are on the brink of a worse crisis than we have faced for years—only absolute tact and diplomacy will see us through. Mr. Farquharson has both, luckily; he will need them to-morrow night."
"I should think he would," said Lady Wereminster grimly. "What the House of Commons is coming to I don't know. We are getting as bad as the French Chamber. The language we use is absolutely scriptural in its plain speaking. At the beginning of the century it was said of our political system that it resolved itself into a succession of great duels; it seems to me now to have become an arena in which one man faces an angry rabble of men who shriek defiance and invective. We are losing our national dignity and reserve, Mr. Hare says; I think he's right. I suppose Mr. Farquharson knows what he has to expect, if not I should like to warn him. They say he exceeds his rightful powers of office—they always say that, of course, of a strong man. They forget that when he came into office he had to deal with what in many ways was an almost impossible situation, that in spite of all our royal visits to other nations and our own reception of royal guests, there is not a Power but covets our possessions. A fig for alliance, I say. There is a Power that is very nearly allied to us by blood which has done us serious mischief before now in our diplomatic relations, and will again."
"I think that Mr. Farquharson can stand the sort of personal challenge you speak of better than most men," said Evelyn. "A man in his position expects disparagement and injustice. He laughs at it all, to begin with—and then he has the proud patience which lives down taint and contumely. Mud may be thrown at him; it may even soil him for a time, but not for long. Love of country is the strongest force in him, and impersonal love raises a man to great heights."
She turned suddenly to Lady Wereminster, smiling. "Oh, my dear, don't let us insult him by fearing the issue of to-morrow night," she said. "I believe in atmosphere: let's surround him with trust and confidence and hope. He'll win through this time of crisis, and every other, and be successful, no matter what lies are told of him or what evil is wrought."
Meantime, at home Dora, preparing for an early dinner, went into her husband's room.
"Father tells me that he thinks I ought to be at the House to-morrow night," she said. "He says you're going to make a speech on something important; it's a great bore, but I suppose I'll have to go."
"I don't think it's in the least necessary," said Farquharson.
Dora shrugged her shoulders.
"I at least am not accustomed to putting myself in the wrong, whatever you are," she said.