Part 22 (2/2)

Ratler and Mr. Bonteen may have been right in making up their minds to think but little of Phineas Finn, but Barrington Erle had been quite wrong when he had said that Phineas would ”go for the ballot”

to-morrow. Phineas had made up his mind very strongly that he would always oppose the ballot. That he would hold the same opinion throughout his life, no one should pretend to say; but in his present mood, and under the tuition which he had received from Mr. Monk, he was prepared to demonstrate, out of the House and in it, that the ballot was, as a political measure, unmanly, ineffective, and enervating. Enervating had been a great word with Mr. Monk, and Phineas had clung to it with admiration.

The meeting took place at Mr. Mildmay's on the third day of the session. Phineas had of course heard of such meetings before, but had never attended one. Indeed, there had been no such gathering when Mr. Mildmay's party came into power early in the last session. Mr.

Mildmay and his men had then made their effort in turning out their opponents, and had been well pleased to rest awhile upon their oars.

Now, however, they must go again to work, and therefore the liberal party was collected at Mr. Mildmay's house, in order that the liberal party might be told what it was that Mr. Mildmay and his Cabinet intended to do.

Phineas Finn was quite in the dark as to what would be the nature of the performance on this occasion, and entertained some idea that every gentleman present would be called upon to express individually his a.s.sent or dissent in regard to the measure proposed. He walked to St. James's Square with Laurence Fitzgibbon; but even with Fitzgibbon was ashamed to show his ignorance by asking questions. ”After all,”

said Fitzgibbon, ”this kind of thing means nothing. I know as well as possible, and so do you, what Mr. Mildmay will say,--and then Gresham will say a few words; and then Turnbull will make a murmur, and then we shall all a.s.sent,--to anything or to nothing;--and then it will be over.” Still Phineas did not understand whether the a.s.sent required would or would not be an individual personal a.s.sent. When the affair was over he found that he was disappointed, and that he might almost as well have stayed away from the meeting,--except that he had attended at Mr. Mildmay's bidding, and had given a silent adhesion to Mr. Mildmay's plan of reform for that session. Laurence Fitzgibbon had been very nearly correct in his description of what would occur.

Mr. Mildmay made a long speech. Mr. Turnbull, the great Radical of the day,--the man who was supposed to represent what many called the Manchester school of politics,--asked half a dozen questions. In answer to these Mr. Gresham made a short speech. Then Mr. Mildmay made another speech, and then all was over. The gist of the whole thing was, that there should be a Reform Bill,--very generous in its enlargement of the franchise,--but no ballot. Mr. Turnbull expressed his doubt whether this would be satisfactory to the country; but even Mr. Turnbull was soft in his tone and complaisant in his manner. As there was no reporter present,--that plan of turning private meetings at gentlemen's houses into public a.s.semblies not having been as yet adopted,--there could be no need for energy or violence. They went to Mr. Mildmay's house to hear Mr. Mildmay's plan,--and they heard it.

Two days after this Phineas was to dine with Mr. Monk. Mr. Monk had asked him in the lobby of the House. ”I don't give dinner parties,”

he said, ”but I should like you to come and meet Mr. Turnbull.”

Phineas accepted the invitation as a matter of course. There were many who said that Mr. Turnbull was the greatest man in the nation, and that the nation could be saved only by a direct obedience to Mr. Turnbull's instructions. Others said that Mr. Turnbull was a demagogue and at heart a rebel; that he was un-English, false and very dangerous. Phineas was rather inclined to believe the latter statement; and as danger and dangerous men are always more attractive than safety and safe men, he was glad to have an opportunity of meeting Mr. Turnbull at dinner.

In the meantime he went to call on Lady Laura, whom he had not seen since the last evening which he spent in her company at Loughlinter,--whom, when he was last speaking to her, he had kissed close beneath the falls of the Linter. He found her at home, and with her was her husband. ”Here is a Darby and Joan meeting, is it not?”

she said, getting up to welcome him. He had seen Mr. Kennedy before, and had been standing close to him during the meeting at Mr.

Mildmay's.

”I am very glad to find you both together.”

”But Robert is going away this instant,” said Lady Laura. ”Has he told you of our adventures at Rome?”

”Not a word.”

”Then I must tell you;--but not now. The dear old Pope was so civil to us. I came to think it quite a pity that he should be in trouble.”

”I must be off,” said the husband, getting up. ”But I shall meet you at dinner, I believe.”

”Do you dine at Mr. Monk's?”

”Yes, and am asked expressly to hear Turnbull make a convert of you.

There are only to be us four. Au revoir.” Then Mr. Kennedy went, and Phineas found himself alone with Lady Laura. He hardly knew how to address her, and remained silent. He had not prepared himself for the interview as he ought to have done, and felt himself to be awkward.

She evidently expected him to speak, and for a few seconds sat waiting for what he might say.

At last she found that it was inc.u.mbent on her to begin. ”Were you surprised at our suddenness when you got my note?”

”A little. You had spoken of waiting.”

”I had never imagined that he would have been impetuous. And he seems to think that even the business of getting himself married would not justify him staying away from Parliament. He is a rigid martinet in all matters of duty.”

”I did not wonder that he should be in a hurry, but that you should submit.”

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