My heart gave one beat backward. Of name and fame I thought nothing. To defeat Wynwood Melton I would give half my life. Here was a chance—one of those marvellous chances which the whirl of the wheel turns out occasionally to fit into the exact moment. It was a high stake, but I would play for it. It was my solitary hope for an advantage over the man whom Mabel Hawthorne loved. Yes, I would stand the hazard of the die.
“Mr. Fitzgerald dislikes politics,” observed Mabel.
“You may bring a horse to the water, but you can’t make him drink,” added her father.
“Besides, he will not be ungallant enough to oppose my nominee,” she laughed.
“I shall be greatly disappointed if my young friend will not stand in the gap for the old county and the old faith,” said Father O’Dowd.
“How can you expect to carry him in the teeth of the overwhelming majority which the conservatives possess in this county?” asked the M.P.
“Thank Heaven! we have the ballot, and now or never is the time to try its efficacy.”
“Well, Mr. Fitzgerald, may I hope to meet you in St. Stephen’s?” asked my guest.
“You may.”
“To oppose my nominee?”