A Lost Leader | Page 7

mind," Borrowdean answered. "Between us, I think that we could induce him."
"Perhaps," she answered. "Only I do not mean to try."
"I wish I could make you understand," he said impatiently, "that I am in deadly earnest."
"You threaten?"
"Don't call it that."
"Very well, then," she declared, "I will tell him the truth myself."
"That," he answered, "is all that I should dare to ask. He would come to us to-morrow."
"You used not to underrate me," she murmured, with a glance towards the mirror.
"There is no other man like Mannering," he said. "He abhors any form of deceit. He would forgive a murderer, but never a liar."
"My dear Leslie," she said, "as a friend--and a relative--"
"Neither counts," he interrupted. "I am a politician."
She sat quite still, looking away from him. The peaceful noises from the village street found their way into the room. A few cows were making their leisurely mid-day journey towards the pasturage, a baker's cart came rattling round the corner. The west wind was rustling in the elms, bending the shrubs upon the lawn almost to the ground. She watched them idly, already a little shrivelled and tarnished with their endless struggle for life.
"I do not wish to be melodramatic," she said, slowly, "but you are forcing me into a corner. You know that I am rich. You know the people with whom I have influence. I want to purchase Lawrence Mannering's immunity from your schemes. Can you name no price which I could pay? You and I know one another fairly well. You are an egoist, pure and simple. Politics are nothing to you save a personal affair. You play the game of life in the first person singular. Let me pay his quittance."
Borrowdean regarded her thoughtfully.
"You are a strange woman," he said. "In a few months' time, when you are back in the thick of it all, you will be as anxious to have him there as we are. You will not be able to understand how you could ever have wished differently. This is rank sentiment, you know, which you have been talking. Mannering here is a wasted power. His life is an unnatural one."
"He is happy," she objected.
"How do you know? Will he be as happy, I wonder, when you have gone, when there is no longer a Mrs. Handsell? I think not! You are one of the first to whom I should have looked for help in this matter. You owe it to us. We have a right to demand it. For myself personally I have no life now outside the life political. I am tired of being in opposition. I want to hold office. One mounts the ladder very slowly. I see my way in a few months to going up two rungs at a time. We want Mannering. We must have him. Don't force me to make that slip of the tongue."
The sound of a gong came through the open window. She rose to her feet.
"We are keeping them waiting for luncheon," she remarked. "I will think over what you have said."
CHAPTER III
WANTED--A POLITICIAN
Sir Leslie carefully closed the iron gate behind him, and looked around.
"But where," he asked, "are the roses?"
Clara laughed outright.
"You may be a great politician, Sir Leslie," she declared, "but you are no gardener. Roses don't bloom out of doors in May--not in these parts at any rate."
"I understand," he assented, humbly. "This is where the roses will be."
She nodded.
"That wall, you see," she explained, "keeps off the north winds, and the chestnut grove the east. There is sun here all the day long. You should come to Blakely in two months' time, Sir Leslie. Everything is so different then."
He sighed.
"You forget, my dear child," he murmured, "that you are speaking to a slave."
"A slave!" she repeated. "How absurd! You are a Cabinet Minister, are you not, Sir Leslie?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I was once," he answered, "until an ungrateful country grew weary of the monotony of perfect government and installed our opponents in our places. Just now we are in opposition."
"In opposition," she repeated, a little vaguely.
"Meaning," he explained, "that we get all the fun, no responsibility, and, alas, no pay."
"How fascinating," she exclaimed. "Do sit down here, and tell me all about it. But I forgot. You are not used to sitting down out of doors. Perhaps you will catch cold."
Sir Leslie smiled.
"I am inclined to run the risk," he said gravely, "if you will share it. Seriously, though, these rustic seats are rather a delusion, aren't they, from the point of view of comfort?"
"There shall be cushions," she declared, "for the next time you come."
He sighed.
"Ah, the next time! I dare not look forward to it. So you are interested in politics, Miss Mannering?"
"Well, I believe I am," she answered, a little doubtfully. "To tell you the truth, Sir