The Dawn of All Part 36

A completely unexpected opposition had showed itself as soon as the Bill was announced. It was perfectly well known that this opposition was almost entirely artificial; but it was so well engineered that there was grave doubt whether it might not affect the voting in the Lower House. The Upper House, it was notorious, was practically unanimous in favour of the Bill; and there had been one or two unpleasant demonstrations outside the entrance to the Second Chamber.

The opposition was artificial--that is to say, its activities were managed after the manner of a stage-army, and the protesters were largely German; but the crowds were so great, and the genuineness of their opposition, such as it was, so obvious, that very clear signs of wavering had become apparent, even on the part of some of the more prominent Ministers of the Crown. Twice, also, during public appearances of the King, who was well known as a strong advocate of the Bill, there had been considerable disturbances amongst the crowds.

All this had come, of course, to the ears of the ecclesiastical authorities far more forcibly than the world outside suspected.

There had been threatening letters; twice the Cardinal's carriage had been mobbed; a dozen well-known priests had been molested in the public streets. There had been meetings and consultations of all kinds; there had even been a moment when it seemed as if the Cardinal and the Prime Minister stood almost alone in their complete resolution. . . . It was not that any really responsible persons contemplated the abandonment of the Bill; but a party had almost been formed for its postponement, in the hope that when once the opposition had been dissolved it would be difficult to reorganize it again. On the other hand, the resolutes stood for the a.s.sertion that just because things were really critical in Germany--(in the state of affairs that followed the Emperor's conversion)--it was now the time for England to advance; that any hesitation shown now would be taken as a sign of weakness, and that the Socialists' cause would be thereby enormously advanced.

Three or four results therefore were possible, from the determination of the Government to push the Bill forward and to present it for its second reading this evening. First, it might pa.s.s triumphantly, if the leaders could succeed in inspiring their followers with confidence. Secondly, it might be rejected, if the panic spread; for, under the new parliamentary system that had succeeded fifty years ago to the old Party Government, it was impossible to reckon accurately on how members would ultimately vote. Thirdly, it might pa.s.s with a narrow majority; and in this event, it was certain that a very long delay would follow before the Upper House would have an opportunity of handing it on for the Royal a.s.sent. Fourthly--well, almost anything else might happen, if the crowd, a.s.sembled in Parliament Square, and swelled every hour by new arrivals, showed itself predominantly hostile. . . .

Lord Southminster's house needs no description. It is probably, even to-day, as well known as any place in England: there is no guide book which does not give at least three or four pages to the castle, as well as a few lines to the tiny historical seaside village beneath from which the marquisate derives its name. And it was in the little dining-room that adjoined the hall that the man who had lost his memory found himself on this evening with half a dozen other men and a couple of ladies.

It was a small octagonal room, designed in one of the towers that looked out over the sea; panelled in painted wood and furnished with extreme plainness. On one side a door opened upon the three little parlours that were used when the party was small; at the back a lobby led into the old hall itself; on the third side was the door used by the servants.

Lord Southminster himself was still a young man, who had not yet married. His grandfather had become a Catholic in the reign of Edward VII; and the whole house had reverted to the old religion under which it had been originally built, with the greatest ease and grace. The present owner was one of the rising politicians who were most determined to carry the Bill through; and he had already made for himself something of a reputation by his speeches in the Upper House. Monsignor had met him half a dozen times already, and thoroughly liked this fair-haired, clean-shaven young man who was such a devoted adherent of the Catholic cause.

A little silence had fallen after old Lady Southminster and her sister had gone out, and it had been curious to notice how little had been said during dinner of the event that was proceeding in London.

Half a dozen times already since they had sat down a silent man in the black gown of a secretary had slipped in with a printed slip of paper and laid it before the Marquis and then disappeared again, and it was astonis.h.i.+ng how the conversation had ceased on the instant, as the paper was read and pa.s.sed round.

These messages had not been altogether rea.s.suring.

The first was timed at 8.13, London, and had been read before the clock chimed the quarter-past. It ran:

"MEMBERS ARE ARRIVING AFTER DINNER. HAZELTON MOBBED IN THE SQUARE."

The second, ten minutes later, ran:

"FOUR t.i.tANIC-LINE BOATS FROM GERMANY REPORTED IN SIGHT. CORDON OF POLICE-VOLORS COMPLETED."

The third:

"MOB REPORTED DIRECTION OF HAMPSTEAD. THE PRIME MINISTER HAS BEGUN HIS SPEECH. HOUSE FULL."

The fourth, fifth, and sixth contained abstracts from the speech, and added that it was becoming increasingly difficult to hear, owing to the noise from outside.

Twenty minutes had now elapsed and no further message had been received.

Monsignor looked up at the Victorian clock over the carved mantelpiece and glanced at his host. The young man's eyes met his own.

"It's twenty-five past nine," said Lord Southminster.

The Cardinal looked up. He had not spoken for three or four minutes, but otherwise had shown no signs of discomposure.

"And the last message was just after nine?" he said.

The other nodded.

"What time is the division expected?"

"Not before midnight. Three guns will be fired, as I said, your Eminence, as soon as the division has taken place. We shall know before my secretary will have time to cross the hall."

Again there was silence.

Outside the night was quiet. The village itself lay, spread out above the beach, a hundred feet below the windows, and the only sound was the steady lap and splash of the rollers upon the s.h.i.+ngle. The place was completely protected by the Southminster estate from any encroachment of houses, and even the station itself lay half a mile away inland.

Monsignor looked again at the faces of those who sat with him.

Opposite was Lord Southminster himself in the ordinary quiet evening dress of his cla.s.s, his guild-badge worn, as the custom was, like a star on his left breast. His face showed nothing except an air of attention; there was no excitement in it, nor even suspense. On his right sat the Cardinal in his scarlet. He was smiling gravely to himself, and his lips moved slightly now and then. At this moment he was playing gently with a walnut-sh.e.l.l that lay on his plate. The three others showed more signs of excitement. Old General Hartington, who could remember being taken to London to see the festivities at the coronation of George V, was leaning back in his chair frowning. (He had been reminiscent this evening in a rather voluble manner, but had not uttered a word now for five minutes.) The chaplain had s.h.i.+fted round in his chair, watching the door, and the sixth man, a cousin of the host, who, Monsignor understood, held some responsible post in the Government volor service, was sitting just now with his head in his hands.

Still no one spoke.

The cousin pushed back his chair suddenly and went to the window.

"Well, Jack?" said the host.

"Nothing--just going to have a look at the weather."

He stood there, having pulled back the curtain a little and unlatched the shutter, looking out through the gla.s.s.

Then Lord Southminster's reserve broke down.

"If it's not done to-night," he said abruptly, "G.o.d only knows----Well, well."

"It will be done to-night," said the Cardinal, still without lifting his eyes.

"Certainly, your Eminence, if nothing interferes; but how can we be sure of that? I know the Government means business."

"It's half an hour since the last message," observed the General.

Lord Southminster got up suddenly and went to the lobby-door. As he went the door into the parlours opened and his mother looked in.

"Any more news, my son?"

"No, mother. I was just going to ask."

The old lady came forward as her son went out--a splendid old creature in her lace and jewels--active still and upright in spite of her years. She made a little gesture as the men offered to move, and went and leaned by the old-fas.h.i.+oned open fire-place, such as her husband had put in at the restoration throughout the house.

"Your Eminence, can you rea.s.sure us?" she said, smiling.

The Cardinal, too, smiled as he turned in his chair.

"I am confident the Bill will pa.s.s," he said. "But I do not know yet what the price will be."

"Your Eminence means in England? Or elsewhere?" asked the chaplain abruptly.

"In England and elsewhere, father."