"What do you mean exactly by 'obstruction'?"

"I will explain. Lord Exham will move, 'That the Speaker do now leave the Chair.' When this motion is lost, some other member of the Opposition will move, 'That the debate be now adjourned.' That being lost, some other member will again move, 'That the Speaker do now leave the Chair,' and so, with alternations of these motions, the whole night can be pa.s.sed--and night after night--and day after day. It is quite a legitimate parliamentary proceeding."

"It may be," answered the Squire; "but I am astonished at your asking John Atheling to take any part in such ways. I will fight as well as any man, on the square and the open; if I cannot do this, I will not fight at all. I would as soon worry a vixen fox, as run a doubling race of that kind. No, Duke, I will not worry, and nag, and tease, and obstruct.

Such tactics are fitter for old women than for reasoning men, sure of a good cause, and working to win it."

"I did not expect this obstruction from you, Squire; and, I must say, I am disappointed--very much disappointed."

"I don't know, Duke Richmoor, that I have ever given you cause to think I would fight in any other way than in a square, stand-up, face-to-face manner. Wasting time is not fighting, and it is not reasoning. It is just tormenting an angry and impatient nation; it is playing with fire; it is a dangerous, deceitful, cowardly bit of business, and I will have nothing to do with it."

"You remember that I gave you your seat?"

"You can have it back and welcome. I took my seat from you; but when it comes to right and wrong, I take orders only from my own conscience."

"Advice, Squire, advice; I did not think of giving you orders."

"Well, Duke, I am perhaps a little hasty; but I do not understand obstructing warfare. I am ready to attack the Bill, tooth and nail.

I am ready to vote against it; but I do not think what you call 'obstructing' is fair and manly."

"All things are fair in love and war, Squire; and this is a war to the knife-hilt for our own caste and privileges."

Here there was a light tap at the door, and, in answer to the Duke's "enter," Annabel came in. She said a few words to him in a low voice, gave him a paper, and disappeared. But, short as the interview was, it put the Duke in a good temper. He looked after her with pride and affection, and said pleasantly,--

"Fight in your own way, Squire Atheling; it is sure to be a good, straight-forward fight. But the other way will be the tactics of our party, and you need not interfere with them. By-the-bye, Miss Vyner is a good deal at your house, I think."

"She is always welcome. My daughter likes her company. We all do. She is both witty and pretty."

"She is a great beauty--a particularly n.o.ble-looking beauty. She will make a fine d.u.c.h.ess, and my son is most fortunate in such an alliance; for she has money,--plenty of money,--and a dukedom is not kept up on nothing a year. Perhaps, however, this Reform Bill will eventually get rid of dukedoms and dukes, as it proposes to do with boroughs and members."

The Squire did not immediately answer. He wanted a definite a.s.sertion about Lord Exham and Miss Vyner, and could not decide on words which would unsuspiciously bring it. Finally, he blurted out an inquiry as to the date of a marriage between them; and the Duke answered carelessly,--

"It may occur soon or late. We have not yet fixed the time. Probably as soon as this dreadful Reform question is settled. But as the ceremony will surely take place at the Castle, Atheling Manor will be an important factor in the event."

He was shifting and folding up papers as he spoke, and the Squire _felt_, more than understood, that the interview had better be closed. Ostensibly they parted friends; but the Squire kept his right hand across his back as he said "good-morning," and the Duke understood the meaning of this action, though he thought it best to take no notice of it.

"What a fractious, testy, touchy fellow this is!" he said irritably to himself, when he was alone. "A perfect John Bull, absolutely sure of his own infallibility; sure that he knows everything about everything; that he is always right, and always must be right, and that any one who doubts his always being right is either a knave or a fool. _Tush!_ I am glad I gave him that thrust about Piers and Annabel. It hurt. I could see it hurt, though he kept his hand to cover the wound."

The Duke was quite right. Squire Atheling was hurt. He went straight home. In any trouble, his first medicine was his wife; for though he pretended to think little of her advice, he always took it--or regretted that he had not taken it. He found her half-asleep in the chair by the window which she had taken in order to watch Lord Exham and Kitty ride down the street together. She was at rest and happy; but the Squire's entrance, at an hour not very usual, interested her. "Why, John!"

she asked, "what has happened? I thought you went to the House at three o'clock."

"I have some questions to ask in my own house, first," he answered.

"Maude, I am sure you remember the ring I gave you one night at Belward,--the ring you promised to marry me on, the sapphire ring with the little padlock?"

"To be sure I remember it, John."

"You used to wear it night and day. I have not seen it on your hand for a long time."

"It became too small for me. I had to take it off. Whatever has brought it into your thoughts at this time?"

"I saw one just like it. Where did you put your ring?"

"In my jewel-case."

"Is it there now."

She hesitated a moment, but a life-time of truth is not easily turned aside. "John," she answered, "it is not there. It is gone."

"I thought so. Did you sell it for Edgar, some time when he wanted money?"

"Edgar never asked me for a shilling. I never gave him a shilling unknown to you. And I did not sell the ring at all. I would never have done such a thing."

"But I have seen the ring on a lady's hand."

"Do you know the lady?"

"I think I could find her."

"I will tell you about it, John. I loaned it to Kitty, and Piers saw it and wanted one made like it for Kitty, and so he took it away to show it to his jeweller, and lost it that very night. He has moved heaven and earth to find it, but got neither word nor sight of it. You ought to tell him where you saw it."

"Not yet, Maude."

"Tell me then."

"To be sure! I saw it on Miss Vyner's hand."

"Impossible!"

"Sure!"

"But how?"

"Thou mayst well ask 'how.' Piers gave it to her."

"I wouldn't believe such a thing, not on a seven-fold oath."

"Thou knowest little about men. There are times when they would give their souls away. Thou knowest nothing about such women as Miss Vyner.

They have a power that while it lasts is omnipotent. Antony lost a world for Cleopatra, and Herod would have given half, yes, the whole of his kingdom to a dancing woman, if she had asked him for it."

"Those men were pagans, John, and lived in foreign countries. Christian men in England--"

"Christian men in England, in proportion to their power, do things just as reckless and wicked. Piers Exham has never learned any control; he has always given himself, or had given him, whatever he wanted. And I can tell thee, there is a perfect witchery about Miss Vyner in some hours.

She has met Exham in a favourable time, and begged the ring from him."

"I cannot believe it. Why should she do such a thing? She must have had a reason."

"Certainly she had a reason. It might be pure mischief, for she is mischievous as a cat. It might be superst.i.tion; she is as superst.i.tious as an Hindoo fakir. She has charms and signs for everything. She orders her very life by the stars of heaven. I have watched her, and listened to her, and never trusted her about Kitty--not a moment. Now this is a secret between thee and me. I asked her to-day about the ring, and she would say neither this nor that; yet somehow she gave me to understand it was a love token."

"She is a liar, if she means that Piers gave it to her as a love token.

I saw the young man half an hour ago. If ever a man loved a maid, he loves our Kitty."