A Lost Leader

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A Lost Leader

The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Lost Leader, by E. Phillips Oppenheim, Illustrated by Fred Pegram
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Title: A Lost Leader
Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim

Release Date: November 14, 2005 [eBook #17063]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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A LOST LEADER
by
E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
Author of "A Maker of History," "Mysterious Mr. Sabin," "The Master Mummer," "Anna the Adventuress," Etc.
Illustrated by Fred Pegram

Boston Little, Brown & Company
1907

CONTENTS
BOOK I
Chapter
I
Reconstruction
II The Woman with an Alias
III Wanted--A Politician
IV The Duchess Asks a Question
V The Hesitation of Mr. Mannering
VI Sacrifice
VII The Duchess's "At Home"
VIII The Mannering Mystery
IX The Pumping of Mrs. Phillimore
X The Man with a Motive
XI Mannering's Alternative
BOOK II
I Borrowdean makes a Bargain
II "Cherchez la Femme"
III One of the "Sufferers"
IV Debts of Honour
V Love versus Politics
VI The Conscience of a Statesman
VII A Blow for Borrowdean
VIII A Page from the Past
IX The Faltering of Mannering
X The End of a Dream
XI Borrowdean shows his "Hand"
XII Sir Leslie Borrowdean incurs a Heavy Debt
XIII The Woman and--the Other Woman
BOOK III
I Matrimony and an Awkward Meeting
II The Snub for Borrowdean
III Clouds--and a Call to Arms
IV Disaster
V The Journalist Intervenes
VI Treachery and a Telegram
VII Mr. Mannering, M.P.
VIII Playing the Game
IX The Tragedy of a Key
X Blanche finds a Way Out
BOOK IV
I The Persistency of Borrowdean
II Hester Thinks it "A Great Pity"
III Summoned to Windsor
IV Checkmate to Borrowdean
V A Brazen Proceeding

A LOST LEADER

BOOK I
CHAPTER I
RECONSTRUCTION
The two men stood upon the top of a bank bordering the rough road which led to the sea. They were listening to the lark, which had risen fluttering from their feet a moment or so ago, and was circling now above their heads. Mannering, with a quiet smile, pointed upwards.
"There, my friend!" he exclaimed. "You can listen now to arguments more eloquent than any which I could ever frame. That little creature is singing the true, uncorrupted song of life. He sings of the sunshine, the buoyant air; the pure and simple joy of existence is beating in his little heart. The things which lie behind the hills will never sadden him. His kingdom is here, and he is content."
Borrowdean's smile was a little cynical. He was essentially of that order of men who are dwellers in cities, and even the sting of the salt breeze blowing across the marshes--marshes riven everywhere with long arms of the sea--could bring no colour to his pale cheeks.
"Your little bird--a lark, I think you called it," he remarked, "may be a very eloquent prophet for the whole kingdom of his species, but the song of life for a bird and that for a man are surely different things!"
"Not so very different after all," Mannering answered, still watching the bird. "The longer one lives, the more clearly one recognizes the absolute universality of life."
Borrowdean shrugged his shoulders, with a little gesture of impatience. He had left London at a moment when he could ill be spared, and had not travelled to this out-of-the-way corner of the kingdom to exchange purposeless platitudes with a man whose present attitude towards life at any rate he heartily despised. He seated himself upon a half-broken rail, and lit a cigarette.
"Mannering," he said, "I did not come here to simper cheap philosophies with you like a couple of schoolgirls. I have a real live errand. I want to speak to you of great things."
Mannering moved a little uneasily. He had a very shrewd idea as to the nature of that errand.
"Of great things," he repeated slowly. "Are you in earnest, Borrowdean?"
"Why not?"
"Because," Mannering continued, "I have left the world of great things, as you and I used to regard them, very far behind. I am glad to see you here, of course, but I cannot think of any serious subject which it would be useful or profitable for us to discuss. You understand me, Borrowdean, I am sure!"
Borrowdean closely eyed this man who once had been his friend.
"The old sore still rankles, then, Mannering," he said. "Has time done nothing to heal it?"
Mannering laughed easily.
"How can you think me such a child?" he exclaimed. "If Rochester himself were to come to see me he would be as welcome as you are. In fact," he continued, more seriously, "if you could only realize, my friend, how peaceful and happy life here may be, amongst