He turned and disgust filled him. The speaker, who had just entered, was the son of a clergyman in the neighbourhood and had gone to the bar. He was a shifty, flattering fellow, at once a toady and a backbiter; who had wormed himself into society too good for him, and in London was Vaughan’s bête noir. But had that been all! Alas, he was also a member of the Academic. He had been present at Vaughan’s triumph ten days before, and had heard him proclaim himself a Reformer of the Reformers.
For a moment Vaughan could find not a word. He could only mutter “Oh!” in a tone of dismay. He feared that his face betrayed the chagrin he felt.
“I thought you were quite the other way?” Mowatt said. And he grinned. He was a weedy, pale young man, with thin lips and a false smile.
Vaughan hesitated. “So I am!” he said curtly.
“But—but I thought——”
“Order! Order!” cried the Alderman, a trifle uplifted by wine and his position. “Silence, if you please, gentlemen, for the Senior Candidate! And charge your glasses!”
Vaughan turned to the table, a frown on his brow. Wathen was on his feet, holding his wine glass before his breast with one hand, while the other rested on the table. His attitude was that of a man confident of his powers and pleased to exert them. Nevertheless, as he prepared to speak, he lowered his eyes to the table as if he thought that a little mock-modesty became him.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “it is my privilege to propose a toast, that at this time and in this place—this time, gentlemen, when to an extent unknown within living memory, all is at stake, and this place which has so much to lose—it is my privilege, I say, to propose a toast that must go straight to the heart of every man in this room, nay, of every true-born Englishman, and every lover of his country! It is Our Ancient Constitution, our Chartered Rights, our Vested Interests! [Loud and continued applause.] Yes, gentlemen, our ancient Constitution, the security of every man, woman, and child in this realm! And coupled with it our Chartered Rights, our Vested Interests, which, unassailed for generations, are to-day called in question by the weakness of many, by the madness of some, by the wicked ambition of a few. [Loud cheering]. Gentlemen, to one Cromwell this town owes the destruction of your famous Abbey, once the pride of this county! To another Cromwell it owes the destruction of the walls that in troublous times secured the hearths of your forefathers! It lies with us—but we must be instant and diligent—it lies with us, I say, to see that those civil bulwarks which protect us and ours in the enjoyment of all we have and all we hope for——”
“In this world!” the Rector murmured in a deep bass voice.
“In this world,” the Sergeant continued, accepting the amendment with a complimentary bow, “are not laid low by a third Cromwell! I care not whether he mask himself under the name of Grey, or of Russell, or of Brougham, or of Lansdowne!”