“I begin to see.”
“‘The land is the strength of the country,’ argues the squire. ‘Down with monopoly,’ cries the cotton lord. Then each arms himself with a sword lately forged and called ‘Philanthropy,’ and with that he searches for chinks in the other’s armor. ‘See how factories work the babes, drive the women underground, ruin the race,’ shout the squires. ‘Vote for the land and starvation wages,’ shout the mill-owners.”
“But does no one try to find the answer?” she asked timidly. “Try to find out what is best for the people?”
“Ah!” he rejoined, “if by the people you mean the lower classes, they cry, ‘Give us not bread, but votes!’ And the squires say that that is what the traders who have just got votes don’t mean to give them; and so, to divert their attention, dangle cheap bread before their noses!”
Mary sighed. “I am afraid that I must give it up,” she said. “I am so ignorant.”
“Well,” he replied thoughtfully. “Many are puzzled which side to take, and are waiting to see how the cat jumps. In the meantime every fence is placarded with ‘Speed the Plough!’ on one side, and ‘The Big Loaf!’ on the other. The first man you meet thinks the landlord a devourer of widows’ houses; to the next the mill-owner is an ogre grinding men’s bones to make his bread. Even at the Gatehouse I doubt if you will escape the excitement, though there is not a field of wheat within a mile of it!”
“To me it is like a new world,” she said.
“Then, when you are in the new world,” he replied, smiling as he rose, “do not forget Columbus! But here is the lad to tell you that your tea is ready.”
He repented when Mary had left him that he had not made better use of his time. It had been his purpose to make such an impression on the girl as might be of use in the future, and he wondered why he had not devoted himself more singly to this; why he had allowed minutes which might have been given to intimate subjects to be wasted in a dry discussion. But there was a quality in Mary that did not lightly invite to gallantry—a gravity and a balance that, had he looked closely into the matter, might have explained his laches.
And in fact he had builded better than he knew, for while he reproached himself, Mary, safe within the tiny bathing machine which the packet company called a cabin, was giving much thought to him. The dip-candle, set within a horn lantern, threw its light on the one comfortable object, the tea-tray, seated beside which she reviewed what had happened, and found it all interesting; his meeting with her, his thought for her, the glimpses he had given her of things beyond the horizon of the convent school, even his diversion into politics. He was not on good terms with her uncle, and it was unlikely that she would see more of him. But she was sure that she would always remember his appearance on the threshold of her new life, that she would always recall with gratitude this crossing and the kindness which had lapped her about and saved her from loneliness.