The mob pressed up to the chariot, and would either have had out the horses and harnessed themselves instead, dragging their future member’s wife with wild jolts and wilder hurrahs, or would have pelted “the machine which held Trevor’s wife” with mingled opprobrium and filth, and Lady Bell quailed before the ordeal.
But Lady Bell’s courage merely wanted steeling—she belonged to a class of rulers. Soon she could smile—a pale, handsome, child-like young woman as she was—and look around her unmoved, save by the necessity of graciously acknowledging greetings, whether she were applauded or abused, bowed before or bemired. It came naturally to her, and stimulated her to sit aloft there in her born element of leadership amidst historic feuds.
Then Lady Bell was commanded to go into every shop in the town to make abundant purchases, of the most diverse description, from satin to moleskin, from buttons to carriage-wheels, from sheep’s tar to eau-de-luce. She was next directed to go into every householder’s dwelling, with her “fellows” bearing after her, from the stuffed and piled carriage, any article that was portable, that Lady Bell might give gifts and bestow largesses, like an eastern princess on her progress.
“And see that you show none of your confounded insolence, Lady Bell,” was roared after her by her husband, as she departed on her mission, for between bating and fuddling, in the extreme exigencies of an election, Squire Trevor was fast being driven beside himself.
It was a misconception and an untruth that Lady Bell’s airs took the form of insolence to her inferiors in rank, when they did not trespass against her notions of decorum and the respect which she believed was due to her. On the contrary, she was gracious and affable in these circumstances.
Lady Bell loved to confer favours; she was in a state of crass ignorance in many respects, knew nothing whatever of the merits of political questions, and had little to say when the people were strangers to her. But her simple smile, her youth and its charms, her rank, went a far way to insure her popularity and promote her cause. It was hers, she was eager for it, she had worked herself up into eagerness even apart from the selfish consideration that Mr. Trevor’s being returned member for Peasmarsh, was the sole chance of Lady Bell’s being restored to her Elysian fields.
There had been a little mystery about the candidate on the whig side, some uncertain bringing forward and withdrawal of suitable men, and Lady Bell had been ten days at Peasmarsh before she was aware of who was her husband’s opponent.
The enlightenment broke upon Lady Bell suddenly, and with a little shock. Her course in driving one day was interrupted by the rival course of another chariot, with a similar train of friends and foes. In the chariot sat the handsome young lady whom Lady Bell had first seen in church, but the lady’s young husband had not left her to brave a street mob alone, he was seated beside her.
Mrs. Sundon’s fine face was pointed keenly for contest. Mr. Sundon looked almost animated and alive—as people seldom saw him look—not beside the real prize of his life, the beautiful, witty, wealthy woman who had elected him, against all hostile representations, her husband, but only in a tavern over the last bottle, when brawls were impending and blood was ready to flow, over cards and dice, in a dog-fight or a cock-pit, on a race-ground.
One need not condemn that man alone—there were hundreds and thousands of men like him, desperately jaded, mind and body, with the springs of life poisoned early, who might have been capable of higher and better things.