BOOK II.
It is the year 1900. Men are hoping that it will be a peaceful one, after the factious bickerings of 1898–99. While the National party and the Progressists have been snarling over contentious bones, they have omitted to notice in the bye-elections unmistakable signs of public weariness and disgust with squabbles so profitless.
The National party, into which the Unionists have been merged, and the Progressists—a party arisen on the ashes of the Liberals—have failed to take warning by these signs. Woman’s Suffrage, established as law by the action of Hector D’Estrange, has materially altered the aspect of the old state of things, and brought about a thorough and healthy change of thought in many places. The women have given their aid enthusiastically to Hector D’Estrange, andworked heartily in support of the youthful reformer. Almost every bye-election has returned a D’Estrangeite candidate.
Now at length the General Election is over, and the Parliament returned is a curious one. Including the Irish, Scotch, and Welsh Home Rulers, the D’Estrangeite members are in a majority, the Nationals coming next, and the Progressists last.
And yet the majority referred to is a somewhat precarious and unworkable one, for if the two latter parties choose to combine, they can wreck the new Government completely. No one knows this better than Hector D’Estrange, who, having been invited by his sovereign to form a Cabinet, has succeeded in doing so, and occupies the proud position of Prime Minister at the age of twenty-eight.
Only sixteen years since Gloria de Lara made her vow to the wild sea waves,—and now?
Has the prayer that accompanied that vow been answered?
Not yet.
“Is it not tempting defeat, my child, to introduce the bill at so early a date?”
“Mother dear, it is my only opportunity. The position I hold is, I know, quite untenable for any length of time. The Government may be defeated at any moment, and then my chance is gone. Though I have not the slightest hope of carrying the bill, I shallyet gain a tremendous point by its introduction. I shall be defeated on it without a doubt, but it will be before the country, and I can appeal to the country upon it.”
“Ever right, my child.”
The speakers are Speranza and Gloria de Lara. The former is now fifty years of age, but years sit lightly on her shoulders. The new century beholds her as lovely and youthful-looking as ever; time has not played havoc with that fair face.
And the pale golden hair is golden still. No sign of whitening age is discernible in the thick tresses. It seems as though fair youth will never quit her side, for Speranza is unchanged.
Unchanged in all save one thing. Since that terrible day, upon which the last chapter closed so abruptly, there has dwelt in Speranza’s lovely eyes a hunted, haunting look of fear. She has never quite recovered from the shock of that most awful trial, and none dare mention to her the name of Lord Westray.
He has never been heard of since that day. His disappearance at the time caused the greatest excitement. Men declared that he must have been foully murdered, and his body secreted by the murderer or murderers. Of course the blame was thrown on the Irish, with whom Lord Westray was no favourite. Not long before his disappearance he had been appointed Chief Secretary for Ireland, an appointment that had given the greatest dissatisfaction to the Irish. Therewas nothing beyond surmise, however, to account for his fate.
They are sitting in Speranza de Lara’s private room in Montragee House, which has been her home ever since the terrible day above referred to. Apartments in the huge building have been set aside for her use, for it is the delight of Evie Ravensdale to lavish upon the mother of his dearest friend on earth all the affection and love of a son. And his love is returned indeed, for Speranza’s heart has gone out to him with all the love of a mother, a love only surpassed by that which she feels for her child.
The great day has come at last, when Hector D’Estrange is to introduce to Parliament his bill for the absolute and entire enfranchisement of the women of his country. The bill, it is whispered, is not a mere stepping-stone to future power for the sex, but a free and unfettered charter of liberty, a distinct emancipation from past slavery, a final and decisive declaration that women are not man’s inferiors, but have as clear and inalienable a right as he to share the government of their country, and to adopt the professions hitherto arrogated by men solely to themselves. Hector D’Estrange’s colleagues have been made aware of the bill’s contents, and have loyally and nobly elected to stand or fall upon it. They have all been selected for their singularly wide and sympathetic views, and are not likely to forsake their chief in the moment of trial. So also can he dependupon all the D’Estrangeite members, without a fear that there will be a single seceder from their ranks; but he knows that the defeat which he expects will come from the united forces of the Progressists and Nationals, who for a time have buried their feuds and disputes, in the desire to defeat the revolutionary schemes of Hector D’Estrange.
There is a knock at the door, and, in response to Hector’s invitation to enter, it opens, and a young man comes in. It is Lord Bernard Fontenoy, very much grown since we saw him last. He is eighteen now, but looks older, and is the Duke of Ravensdale’s Secretary, the duke being Minister for Foreign Affairs.
“A telegram, Mr. D’Estrange,” he observes. “Will there be any answer?”
Hector takes the missive and opens it. It is from Flora Desmond, and runs as follows:—
“The ten regiments have marched in from Oxford, and are quartered in the Hall of Liberty. Twenty-seven miles completed in eight and a half hours; not a single private fell out of the ranks. Will be down to see you in an hour or so.”
“No, Bernie; no answer, thanks. Is Evie in yet?” queries the recipient.
“I’ll go and see,” answers the youth, vanishing as he speaks.
“Dear mother, I must leave you now, but will see you again before I go to the House. Estcourt and Douglasdale will be here directly, and the latter is to escort you to-night,” observes Hector D’Estrange, rising and kissing Speranza.
The mother throws her arms around her child. The anxious look in her eyes is intensified.
“My darling, may all go well with you to-night. It is foolish, I know, but there is a foreboding of evil next my heart which I cannot shake off, try as I may. Ah, Gloria! if aught should happen to you, my precious child, what would your mother do?”
“Why, mother, what ails you, dearest? Evil happen to Gloria? What fancy is this? Of course I expect defeat; but that will not be evil; merely the beginning of a great end.
“I do not allude to that, dear one, but to something quite different. Gloria, I had a terrible dream last night. I saw him close to me, the being that I loathe. He had you down, and stood above you with a naked sword raised threateningly. I rushed to save you, but ere I could avert his arm he had pointed it straight down at you, and pierced you to the heart.”
“Tush, mother, a mere dream, that’s all. You must not dwell upon it. Dear mother, put it from your mind.”
“Would to God that I could, Gloria! But it haunts me like a spectre, and will not pass away. However, my child, I must not damp your spirits with my fancies.Go now to your duties, from which I must not keep you, and mother will do her best to drive the dream away.”
“That’s right, motherling. Do, for Gloria’s sake.”
He kisses her tenderly and goes out, for he hears Evie Ravensdale’s step approaching. The two friends and colleagues meet just outside the door.
“Let’s go to your room, Evie,” he says gently, “and let us have a chat before I go to work. Chats with you are a luxury now. We don’t find much time for them, do we? By-the-bye, I have just had a telegram from Flora Desmond: the regiments have reached the Hall of Liberty. She reports the last march of twenty-seven miles in eight and a half hours, with not one single fall out from the ranks. Yet they would have us believe that women are weak, feeble creatures, unable to endure fatigue. There is the lie direct.”
They pass on into the duke’s study, a room full of pleasant memories for Hector D’Estrange. Many a happy hour has he spent here with the truest and best friend of his life, the one man whom he loves above all things, and, with the exception of Speranza, the only being to whom he is passionately attached. A big oil painting hangs above the fireplace. Two figures are represented on the canvas. One is a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man, with long silken moustache and aristocratic mien, the other of shorter and slighter build, with a face of exquisite beauty.The features are those of a very young man, the eyes are sapphire-blue, the glossy, close curling hair of a deep old-gold colour. It is easy to recognise the former as Evelyn, Duke of Ravensdale, the latter as Hector D’Estrange. The picture has been executed by the duke’s order, and represents the two friends first meeting—ever memorable for both.
They sit on alone together, these kindred spirits, happy in the communion of each other’s thoughts. They are seeking to scan the future and what it will bring, diving into the days that have yet to come. With Evie Ravensdale, it is a firm belief in the ultimate success of Hector D’Estrange’s scheme, a supreme and absolute confidence in his young chief’s ascendant star.
“I wonder who will be the first woman Prime Minister,” he observes dreamily. He is looking into the glowing coals, and does not notice the flush that rises to Hector D’Estrange’s cheeks.
“Ah, yes, who indeed?” echoes the latter quietly.
“Sometimes I think, Hector, that I can see her. Certainly I have seen her in my dreams,” continues the young duke softly.
“Can you describe her, Evie?” asks his friend.
“Ask me to paint your face, Hector, and then you have her in living life. Yes, my woman Prime Minister is an exact counterpart of Hector D’Estrange. Ah, Hector! if you were only a woman how madly I should love you; for love you as I do now, it cannever be the same love as it would be if you were a woman.”
It is fortunate that the shaded and softly subdued lamps in Evie Ravensdale’s study are low, or certainly the look in Hector D’Estrange’s face would have betrayed the secret of Gloria de Lara. As it is, he only laughs softly.
“So I am your woman’s ideal, am I, Evie?” he asks in a would-be bantering tone.
“Yes, Hector, you are. Your face is too lovely for a man’s. You ought to have been a woman. And yet if you had been, the glory of Hector D’Estrange would be an untold tale. There is, alas! no woman living, I fear, who would have been able to beat down the laws that held her enchained as you have done. How the women worship you, Hector, and rightly.”
The front door bell is pealing. In a few minutes the study door is opened, and Lady Flora Desmond is announced.
She comes in easy and graceful, her White Guard’s uniform fitting to perfection her supple and agile form. People have grown accustomed to Hector D’Estrange’s women volunteers. The uniforms no longer strike them as strange and unfeminine, for custom is the surest cure with offended Mrs. Grundy.
“What a dense crowd there is, to be sure!” she exclaims, after first greetings have been exchanged. “I had hard work to get my guards through it. But they are in order now, and a clear way is kept rightup to Westminster, so you will have no difficulty in getting your carriage along, Mr. D’Estrange.”
“Is it so late?” he inquires in a surprised tone. “Evie and I have been talking away, and did not notice how the time was slipping. Pray wait here. I shall not be many minutes dressing. I must wear my White Guard’s uniform to-night, you know.”
“Very well, Mr. D’Estrange. I will wait for you here,” she replies. There is a ring in Flora Desmond’s voice which tells how happy she is. She has never dreamed of seeing such a day as this.
He is standing on the steps of Montragee House, clad in his White Guard’s uniform. A long line of the White Regiment keep the road clear to Westminster. The crowd is dense all round. Nothing but a sea of faces can be seen, and the cheers of the people have grown into a hoarse, continuous roar. Thousands and thousands of women are amongst that crowd, women, with hearts full of love and devotion for their hero; women who would account it a happiness to die for him at any hour; women who are strong in their gratitude for what he has done, and is trying to do for them. He has entered the carriage that stands in waiting in front of the ducal mansion, and with Evie Ravensdale has taken his seat therein. As it drives rapidly towards Westminster the mighty volume of cheering is again and again renewed, a few hisses being here and there noticeable.
How describe the scene within the House of Commons? To attempt to do so would be but to court failure. The precincts are thronged until there is no standing room. There is eager expectation on every face.
The roar of the crowd outside has penetrated the vast building, and tells those within that he is approaching. A thrill runs through that assembly of princes, peers, commoners, and ladies who are there to await his coming, and then the silence of intense expectation falls on all around.
He is entering now, and walks slowly forward to take his seat. He is received with a burst of enthusiasm by his own colleagues and party, and is watched with interest by every woman who looks down upon him from the spacious galleries that at his instance have been erected for ladies, in place of the wild beast cage originally considered by men as good enough for the inferior sex. And now he has taken his seat while awaiting the usual formalities, and the eyes of the House are upon him. It would be a trying position for an old Parliamentary hand, one used to many years of debate. Is it not just a shade so for Gloria de Lara, as she sits there under the name of Hector D’Estrange preparing to do battle for her sex?
But she has risen now. The silence of death has fallen once more on the House, for the clear, beautiful voice is speaking at last, and this is what it says.
“Mr. Speaker, I make no apology to you, sir, or to honourable gentlemen for the bill which I am about to introduce to the House. It is a bill embodying a simple act of justice to woman, a tardy though complete offer by man to repair the wrong which he has done her in the past. Now the bill is simple enough, and contains no ambiguous clauses. It states in terse, clear language what it is that we propose to bestow on woman, the rights to which she is entitled, and the manner in which we suggest that they should take effect.
“We have rightly, though tardily, bestowed the suffrage upon her. That was an act which should have been performed years ago, but one which has been delayed by much of that unwieldy and unworkable machinery that clogs and hampers the operations of the Westminster Parliament. I refer to the numerous local affairs of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, which, as you know, I have frequently expressed as my opinion, might be more profitably,efficiently, and quickly disposed of in the separate countries named, leaving the time that is consumed here in attending to them free for the consideration of great Imperial and National social questions, which are, alas! and dangerously so, being pressed into the background.
“The bestowal of the suffrage on woman is a practical acknowledgment by man that woman has a right to be considered as a being who can reason, and who can study humanity in its various phases, and act on her own responsibility. It is not for me here to seek for the causes which have hitherto led man to believe to the contrary. His belief, in a great measure, has been due to woman’s weak acceptance of his arbitrary laws; for I do not suppose it will be pretended by any one that the laws laid down for the sacrifice of woman’s freedom were the creation of a woman’s brain. But this weak acceptance of these arbitrary laws cannot fairly be ascribed entirely to the fault of woman. ‘Slavery in no form is natural;’ it is an artificial creation of man’s; and woman’s slavery cannot be taken as an exception to this maxim. She has, in point of fact, been subjected to bondage, a bondage which has, in a manner, become second nature to her, and which custom has taught her to regard as a part of the inevitable.
“But if honourable gentlemen will believe me, Nature is stronger than custom, and more powerful than law. Nature is a force that cannot be repressedfinally and absolutely. It is like an overwhelming torrent against which you may erect monster dykes, which you may dam up for a time, but all the while the waters are rising, and will find their level in the end. Through countless years woman has been repressed. Every human force and ingenuity of man have been employed to establish her subjection. From religion downwards it has been the cry ‘Women, submit to men!’ a cry which I may safely say was never originated by herself.
“Now Nature has established a law which is inviolable. It has laid down the distinction between the sexes, but here Nature stops. Nature gives strength and beauty to man, and Nature gives strength and beauty to woman. In this latter instance man flies in the face of Nature, and declares that she must be artificially restrained. Woman must not be allowed to grow up strong like man, because if she did, the fact would establish her equality with him, and this cannot be tolerated. So the boy and man are allowed freedom of body, and are trained up to become muscular and strong, while the woman, by artificial, not natural laws, is bidden to remain inactive and passive, and in consequence weak and undeveloped. Mentally it is the same. Nature has unmistakably given to woman a greater amount of brain power. This is at once perceivable in childhood. For instance, on the stage, girls are always employed in preference to boys, for they are considered brighter and sharper in intellectand brain power. Yet man deliberately sets himself to stunt that early evidence of mental capacity, by laying down the law that woman’s education shall be on a lower level than that of man’s; that natural truths, which all women should early learn, should be hidden from her; and that while men may be taught everything, women must only acquire a narrow and imperfect knowledge both of life and of Nature’s laws.
“I maintain to honourable gentlemen that this procedure is arbitrary and cruel, and false to Nature. I characterise it by the strong word of Infamous. It has been the means of sending to their graves unknown, unknelled, and unnamed, thousands of women whose high intellects have been wasted, and whose powers for good have been paralysed and undeveloped. To the subjection and degradation of woman I ascribe the sufferings and crimes of humanity, nor will Society be ever truly raised, or ennobled, or perfected until woman’s freedom has been granted, and she takes her rightful place as the equal of man. Viewing this great social problem in this light, we have deemed it our duty to present to Parliament a bill, establishing as law, firstly, the mixed education of the sexes, that is to say, bringing into force the principle of mixed schools and colleges, in which girls and boys, young men and young women, can be educated together; secondly, the extension of the rights of primogeniture to the female sex, so that while primogeniture remainsassociated with the law of entail, the eldest born, not the eldest son, shall succeed the owner of property and titles; also that all the professions and positions in life, official or otherwise, shall be thrown open as equally to women as to men; and thirdly, that women shall become eligible as Members of Parliament, and peeresses in their own right eligible to sit in the Upper House as well as to undertake State duties. Such is the drastic, the sweeping measure by which we desire to wipe off for ever and repair, though tardily, a great wrong. Honourable gentlemen will perceive that we take no half-way course. We are not inclined to accept the doctrine of ‘by degrees,’ believing that this would only prolong the evil and injustice which daily arise from the delay in emancipating the female sex; and I will now as briefly as possible set forth to honourable gentlemen the arguments in favour of the three clauses contained in this bill.
“With regard to the first one, namely, the advisability of educating girls and boys, young women and young men, together, it is necessary to point out that the system of separating the sexes throughout their educational career has arisen chiefly from the totally different forms of education meted out to each. We hold that these different forms are pernicious and morally unhealthy, calculated to evilly influence the sensual instincts of the male sex, and to instil into the other sex a totally wrong and mischievous idea of the right and wrong side of Nature. We are convincedthat this system has been productive of an immense amount of immorality and consequent suffering and degradation in the past, and that the system of elevating Nature into a mystery is the greatest conceivable incitement to sensuality and immorality. We hold that there should be no mystery or secrecy anent the laws of God. We hold that in creating mystery we condemn God’s law—namely, Nature, to be what it is not—indecent; and we hold that the system of separating the sexes, of telling all to the one and enshrouding everything in silence and mystery to the other, has had the evil effect of producing immorality, so wide and far-spreading as to be frightful in its hideousness and magnitude; while it has been productive of millions of miserable marriages, of disease, and of evil immeasurable and appalling.
“Nature tells us truths which we cannot condemn as falsehoods, however much we may avert our eyes from their light. Nature tells us that it is natural for the male and female sex to be together. If we bring up the young to face this truth, if we bring up the young to accept as natural and rational the laws of pure and unaffected Nature, they will accept it as it is. But if we clothe it in boys’ and men’s eyes in fanciful garments, and leave girls and women in ignorance of its truths, we must expect the terrible and horrible results which have followed such unnatural teaching through centuries of time.
“We therefore emphatically in this clause record ourprotest against the system of teaching the young to regard Nature in a false light, in other words, to judge of God’s laws as impure. We believe such a system of education to be, as we have said, an incentive to the male sex to do wrong, while totally unfitting the female sex to do right. The beginning of all immorality on woman’s side has sprung from ignorance, and from the system of mystery and the tendency to declare indecent that which cannot be so, being God’s law. In regard to the physical condition of the sexes, we hold that where equal opportunities are afforded to both of strengthening, developing, and improving the body, little material difference will be found in the two. There are many strong men in this world, and there are many strong women, as there are weakly men and weakly women. I have never heard it yet argued, that because a man is not strong in body he is therefore unfitted to take part in the affairs of State. Yet woman’s weakness is one of the reasons adduced for excluding her therefrom. We believe that in a big public school, say, for instance, at Eton, if girls and boys were admitted together, that girls would very soon prove that neither physically nor mentally were they inferior to boys, nor should such a pernicious doctrine be ever inculcated into the boy’s brain. He should not be brought up as he is now, to look down on his sisters as inferior to him, nor should those sisters be told that he is their superior in strength and mental capacity. It is a doctrine theperniciousness of which is far-reaching, and a distinct infringement of the natural.
“This leads us to the consideration of the second clause, the adoption by women of those professions hitherto arrogated to themselves solely by men. We are of opinion that, granted a similar education as men, women are in every way as fitted to occupy those professions. I may be allowed here perhaps, to refer with pride to that magnificent body of women over 200,000 strong who are now enrolled in the regiments of the Women’s Volunteer forces, of which I am proud to call myself a member, and whose uniform I am fittingly wearing on this occasion. We have before us a splendid evidence of woman’s power to combine and come under discipline. These regiments are kept up to their full force, and are all due to individual effort and womanly sacrifice. There is no State aid in the question, and yet the efficiency of each regiment is perfect. Disbanded and scattered, they can be summoned to their ranks at a few days’ notice, without fear that they will fail. I point to this as a brilliant example of what women can accomplish in so short a time, by self-sacrifice and simple determination. The same argument of their efficiency to enter the army applies to the navy, and to any other profession hitherto occupied solely by man.
“But, believing as I do, that with the admission of women into the conduct of affairs of State, wars, and all their attendant horrors, would quickly become athing of the past, I dwell shortly on the second clause, passing on to the third, which, in conjunction with the first, I regard as the most important part to be examined.
“It is now eleven years since County Councils were established. At the very first elections women were chosen as representatives, but on an appeal to the law they were ousted from their seats. We have wisely remedied that state of things, and no one thinks it odd or extraordinary now, to see women sitting in these County Councils as members. On the contrary, it is tacitly acknowledged that their presence is, and has been, productive of much good. Well, will honourable gentlemen tell me in what great particulars these County Councils differ from Parliament?
“Both are debating assemblies, and both are conducted on almost similar lines. What is there preposterous and appalling in the suggestion that women should become Members of Parliament, and when, by genius or talents, they can attain to such, assume Cabinet rank, and claim the right to carry on the affairs of their country? It is merely custom that now debars them, a custom established by the selfishness and arrogance of man, and accepted by woman in the same manner as slaves in the past, from long custom, accepted the lash from their taskmasters. The taskmasters had established the right to flog their slaves; they had dammed up the slowly rising waters of rebellion, but these rose to their level at last, and overflowed,and slavery is no more. The analogy holds good in the case of woman, whose greater slavery is not yet entirely overcome. That it will finally be, is as certain as that the hours of Time never go back. You may fight against it, you may pile the dykes higher, you may go on damming the rising waters as you will, but the time must inevitably come, when those dykes and dams will crumble away beneath the overwhelming flood, which your own efforts will have entirely accumulated and brought to its tremendous and irresistible strength. We may be met with many arguments in condemnation of this bill. One will be that it will obstruct the rite of marriage. We deny this. We grant you that it may diminish the number of marriages, but we contend that this will be a blessing rather than a curse. Thousands of miserable unions are yearly effected in consequence of woman’s unnatural and one-sided position in Society. In all these cases she does not marry because, with a knowledge of the subject, with every profession thrown open to her and chance to get on equal to men, she is satisfied that she prefers married life. No. In the cases referred to, she marries for money, or for position, or to escape the restraints of home, or because she has no chance of making her way in the world, and the result is that these marriages are miserable failures, and the offspring of such either diseased in body or in mind, or condemned to grow up to a life of misery, and, in thousands of cases, immorality and crime.
“There is a problem creeping gradually forward upon us, a problem that will have to be solved in time, and that is the steady increase of population. If it advances at its present rate, the hour will come when this earth will not be able to contain it. What then? We may possibly by that time have arranged, with the aid of science, for conveyances which shall carry our superfluous population to other realms of light, but it is equally possible that if this be so, those realms may not consent to receive the emigrants. What then? I believe that with the emancipation of women we shall solve this problem now. Fewer children will be born, and those that are born will be of a higher and better physique than the present order of men. The ghastly abortions, which in many parts pass muster nowadays, owing to the unnatural physical conditions of Society, as men, women, and children, will make room for a nobler and higher order of beings, who will come to look upon the production of mankind in a diseased or degraded state, as a wickedness and unpardonable crime, against which all men and women should fight and strive. The emancipation of women will, I am convinced, lead up to the creation of the great and the beautiful, to higher morals and nobler aims.
“Yet, as we are now, what is the sad reality? In this huge, over-crowded city alone, the greatest the world has ever known, amidst rich and poor alike, teems immorality awful and appalling in its magnitude.Deeds are committed of which even some of the most vicious have no idea. Thousands are born in our midst who should never see the light of day. Born in disease, these miserable victims of vice and immorality grow up to beget to others like horrors, and in the teeming millions of this vast city alone exist misery and sin too terrible to contemplate.
“We submit, therefore, to honourable gentlemen that the first step towards the regeneration and upraising of mankind is the emancipation of woman, and with her emancipation the careful training of the sexes together. Convinced that the time has come, when it would be dangerous to delay this emancipation, we have made it the plank on which the Government of the day intend to stand or fall. We would further, perhaps, overstep the bounds of custom, and ask that the fate of the measure be decided to-night by a vote taken on it immediately. If the vote be adverse, the Government will at once resign, and appeal to the country on the clauses of the bill. They are clauses which I think, to-night, it would be but waste of time to discuss. They can be discussed before the country if the bill be rejected. Yet, ere I sit down, I would beg of honourable gentlemen to consider the few words which I have had the honour, and, I thank God, the opportunity to make to them. I would appeal to them to put aside party feeling, and vote for the common good as their consciences dictate. I solemnly warn them, however, that they cannot put back thehand of time, and that the hour must be reached at last when the cause of woman will triumph; for, as I have already remarked, Nature is like the rising waters of a great flood, which the hand and ingenuity of man may restrain for a time, but which must find a level at last and overflow. The course of Nature is unconquerable; no art of man can defeat it, wrought as it is by the hand of God.”
He has sat down. He has been heard throughout in death-like silence, but now the Ministerialists and D’Estrangeites are cheering him again and again. Yet chill as ice are the Nationals and Progressists. They cannot rise to the height of generosity to which he has appealed. In this moment of uncertainty for many, Hector D’Estrange knows that the bill is doomed.
The House has divided. It has recorded its vote. The numbers for and against the emancipation of women have been announced. The author of the bill was no false prophet when he predicted defeat. By a majority of 120 it has been rejected.
Then the rafters ring with the wild cheering of the victorious Opposition, of that strange medley of parties, that hating each other cordially, yet hate still more the high-souled, far-reaching, justice-loving principles of Hector D’Estrange. Again and again the cheering is renewed, drowning in its volume the counter-cheers of the D’Estrangeites, wild, almost ungovernable inits elation, full of bitter meaning, echoing with sneering emphasis the triumph of selfishness over right.
He sits very quietly through it all, hardly seeming to notice this outburst of the victors. He does not grudge them their momentary triumph; his thoughts do not dwell upon the defeat which he has just sustained. They are far away, out beyond the portals of the present, clasping the warm hands of the future, reading the bright letters that twine their golden circlet round its brow, as they flash their meaning forth in the one word “Victory!”
Be of good cheer, brave heart, for victory is at hand!
The House has adjourned; it is five minutes past twelve. As the Prime Minister passes out he is joined by Evie Ravensdale, who at once links his arm within that of his friend and colleague. Although the duke’s carriage is in waiting, these two purposely refrain from entering it, so as to avoid the crowd and the inevitable demonstration which would follow recognition thereby. In this manner they escape detection by the populace.
Not entirely, however. Sharp eyes have recognised Hector D’Estrange. He has not gone many steps when a hand is laid on his shoulder.
“Mr. D’Estrange,” he hears a voice saying, “I arrest you in the name of the law.”
“On what charge?” he inquires in a quick, startled voice.
“On the charge, sir, of murdering Lord Westray,” is the reply.
In a moment his quick brain has taken in the situation, and he knows that resistance is useless.
“Very well,” he answers quietly, “I will go with you. Evie,” he adds, in a calm, composed voice “please go at once to my poor mother.”
“Say, prisoner at the bar, are you or are you not guilty of the murder of Lord Westray?”
“Not guilty.”
The answer comes in a clear and distinct voice, a voice in which there is neither faltering nor evasion. It is a voice singularly rich and melodious, a voice which one would think could not readily lie.
A hum runs through the crowded court, an indescribable buzz and movement of excitement, but there is joy and relief on many a face, where hitherto doubt and perplexity had reigned.
The court is crowded to suffocation. All the well-known faces of the day are present. The rush to obtain admittance has been unprecedented, and the excitement and popular feeling in regard to the case is unparalleled in the annals of the law courts.
He stands there very quietly, but erect as a dart. His arms are folded on his chest, and his whole carriage is one of easy dignity. None, looking at the beautiful face, with its clear, radiant complexion, magnificenteyes, and high, pale, thoughtful brow, around which the old-gold curls lovingly cluster, could bring themselves to believe that that man is a murderer.
Yet, as we have seen, of crime so terrible Hector D’Estrange stands accused. Since that fearful night when, with murder in his eyes, he had burst into that room of ill fame, and found his beloved mother in the power and at the mercy of the man who had blighted her early life, and who had pursued her with such relentless vengeance, neither Hector D’Estrange nor society at large had seen Lord Westray. As we may remember, the former in that moment of horror and fury had been tried to the highest pitch. A shot had rung out through the silent house, followed by a loud cry, and that was all.
He stands accused not merely of murder, but of having secreted the body of his victim with intent to avoid detection. At the coroner’s inquest evidence had been forthcoming to show how, acting upon various anonymous communications received, the heir-at-law of the deceased had placed the matter in the hands of the police, who thereupon had discovered the body and clothes of Lord Westray buried deep in the ground at Mrs. de Lara’s residence near Windsor. Evidence had likewise been forthcoming to prove, that Hector D’Estrange was the last person seen in the company of Lord Westray, and the clothes of the murdered nobleman had been fully identified by his valet and others as those in which he was lastseen alive. The body was, of course, past recognition. Two years in the earth would necessarily render it so; yet on the skeleton little finger of one hand a plain gold ring had been found, as also around the skeleton’s neck a gold chain and locket, the latter containing a faded portrait of the late Countess of Westray, the earl’s mother. It had been proved that Lord Westray always wore this ring, chain, and locket, and his valet had sworn that he was wearing them the very day on which he disappeared. Public opinion was perplexed. Even those who would glory in Hector D’Estrange’s innocence found it difficult to believe him so. Everything appeared so clear against him, so unanswerably conclusive, that men and women shook their heads and sighed when hopes of his acquittal were expressed. But the day of trial had come at last, and Hector D’Estrange was there to confront his accusers.
In face of the terrible charge preferred against their chief, the members of the Ministry have unconditionally resigned, and a provisional Government, pending an appeal to the country, has been hastily constructed from the National party. The Government of the day is therefore known to be rabidly antagonistic to the late revolutionary Prime Minister, who now stands accused of murder. The counsel retained for the prosecution by the Crown is the Attorney-General,aided and assisted by two Q.C.’s, but Hector D’Estrange has retained no one to aid him. He defends himself.
And now with a flourish and many theatrical attitudes, Sir Anthony Stickleback begins the case for the prosecution. Sir Anthony is fond of rhetoric, and he airs it to the court, fully to his own satisfaction. He has many long-winded phrases to get through before he closes with the main point, which may be briefly told in his closing summary of the statements contained in his opening address.
“I shall therefore, my lord, call witnesses who will speak to the evident intimacy which has existed between Mr. D’Estrange and Mrs. de Lara through so many years. These witnesses will be able to show moreover, that on several occasions Mrs. de Lara received visits from her late husband, Lord Westray, during Mr. D’Estrange’s absence; that she was frequently in the habit of mysteriously disappearing from her residence near Windsor on visits to London, and that on one of these occasions—the occasion, in fact, when Mr. D’Estrange followed her—she actually left a note for her maid, acquainting her with her departure. I shall show how Mr. D’Estrange, having surprised her in the company of Lord Westray, deliberately fired his revolver at that nobleman. The last thing seen of this latter unfortunate gentleman was in the company of Mr. D’Estrange, who had announced his intention of taking him to his home in GrosvenorSquare. It is needless to say that from that day forward Lord Westray has never been seen in living life, though, in consequence of several anonymous communications received, private inquiry was set on foot by those who have been determined to bring the murderer to justice, and which has resulted in the discovery of the body and the clothes which Lord Westray was wearing when last seen, buried deep in the earth, in the private grounds near Windsor belonging to Mrs. de Lara. I will now, my lord, proceed to call the witnesses for the prosecution.”
And one by one the witnesses are brought forward to swear away the life of Hector D’Estrange.
Charles Weston deposes that he was for many years Mrs. de Lara’s butler, and that he frequently admitted Lord Westray to her house, but always in the absence of Mr. D’Estrange. Only on one occasion did Mr. D’Estrange come in while Lord Westray was in the house, and he recalls high words passing between the two, followed by the hasty departure of Lord Westray, whose brougham was awaiting him at Mrs. de Lara’s door. This was when she resided in London. After this Lord Westray always came on foot, and he, Weston, had strict orders to keep a sharp look out for Mr. D’Estrange, so as to give the two full warning. He remembers perfectly well bringing Mrs. de Lara a note from Lord Westray the very day on which she disappeared from her Windsor residence, and the same on which Lord Westray wasmurdered, and he also remembers a note being left that night by Mrs. de Lara for hermaid.
Cross-examined by Hector D’Estrange. “Are you not a discharged servant of Mrs. de Lara’s, Weston?”
“No, sir,” answers this person with cool effrontery. “I gave notice myself.”
“You will swear, Weston, that Mrs. de Lara did not dismiss you for drunkenness and gross impertinence?”
“Certainly, sir. Mrs. de Lara told me I had had too much to drink, and I told her I would leave. I gave a month’s notice.”
“Thank you, Weston, I have no more to ask you.” Hector D’Estrange’s voice has a peculiar ring of unutterable contempt in it. The wretch winces as he receives the order to “stand down.”
Victoire Hester is next called. She deposes to being Mrs. de Lara’s late maid. She corroborates Charles Weston’s evidence. Asked if she remembers the writing paper used by Mrs. de Lara and Hector D’Estrange, “Perfectly,” is her reply.
“Can she select a specimen from amidst the packet of letters handed her?”
“Certainly,” she replies again.
In a few minutes she has picked out three letters all written in the same hand and on a similar stamp of paper.
“This,” she declares, “is the paper used by Mrs. de Lara and Mr. D’Estrange all the time that I have been in Mrs. de Lara’s service.”
Asked again if she recognises the handwriting on the letter, she unhesitatingly declares it to resemble Lord Westray’s. Asked if she received a note from Mrs. de Lara, acquainting her with her sudden departure for London the night of the murder, she answers, “Yes!”
Cross-examined by Hector D’Estrange.
“Victoire Hester, are you not engaged to Charles Weston, and were you not dismissed by Mrs. de Lara?”
“No, sir,” she unblushingly replies. “I gave notice same as Charles did, because Mrs. de Lara behaved so improperly to me.”
“Victoire Hester, you say that Mrs. de Lara left a note for you on the night of the supposed murder of Lord Westray, informing you she had gone to London?”
“Yes,” is the reply.
“But was she not in the habit of frequently going up to town in the same way without leaving notes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then how is it she should trouble to do what she had never done before, Victoire Hester?”
The maid is visibly flurried.
“I don’t know, sir,” she stammers.
“Thank you, Victoire.” The cold, calm, contemptuous voice comes again, and the maid in turn steps down.
Alfred Hawkins corroborates Charles Weston’sevidence, as to driving Lord Westray to Mrs. de Lara’s South Kensington residence on one occasion. He states that he was groom to the late lord, and is still so to his successor.
“I call for Mr. Trackem,” enunciates Sir Anthony Stickleback in an important voice, “since the accused does not wish to ask Alfred Hawkins any questions.”
Mr. Trackem enters the witness box. He is extremely well dressed, and has an air of importance about him. Like Sir Anthony, he has evidently a good opinion of himself.
“Mr. Trackem, you own a certain house in Verdegrease Crescent, do you not?” inquires Sir Anthony blandly.
“I do, sir,” answers Mr. Trackem.
“Have you or have you not admitted Mrs. de Lara to the house?”
“Frequently, sir,” answers that individual.
“Presumably for what purpose?”
“On each occasion, sir, to meet Lord Westray.”
“Do you, Mr. Trackem, know anything of Rita Vernon?” asks Sir Anthony.
“Certainly, sir. She used frequently to visit my house.”
“Will you name the last two occasions you have seen her, Mr. Trackem?”
“Well, sir, the first was on the night of the 20th of June, 1894, and the last on the night of Lord Westray’s murder,” answers Mr. Trackem.
“Was she with any one on those two occasions?”
“Yes, sir, each time with the same person.”
“And that person, Mr. Trackem, was?”
“The Duke of Ravensdale,” answers the scoundrel quickly.
A movement of intense surprise pervades the court.
“Will you describe to his lordship and the jury all you know about the terrible occurrence of which Lord Westray was the victim, Mr. Trackem?” commands Sir Anthony Stickleback, folding his arms.
“I will do my best, sir. On the afternoon of the day on which Lord Westray disappeared, I received a note from Mrs. de Lara, sent especially by Rita Vernon. In this note she instructed me to retain my house free for the night, and to admit no one but Lord Westray. I acted as requested, and she and his lordship arrived about half-past one. I retired to bed, there being no one in the house but two men-servants and a woman. The men, like myself, had retired to rest. Suddenly I was startled by hearing a shot, followed by a loud cry. I jumped out of bed, slipped into my trousers, and called my two men. We proceeded to the room in which were Lord Westray and Mrs. de Lara. On entering, we found it in possession of Mr. D’Estrange, the Duke of Ravensdale, and Rita Vernon. The two latter were beside Mrs. de Lara, who was lying on a sofa. Lord Westray was stretched out on the floor, blood issuing from a wound in thethroat, and above him stood Mr. D’Estrange, with a discharged revolver in his hand.
“I at once rushed up to him, and accused him of attempting to murder Lord Westray. He replied that he was sorry for what he had done, but that he did it in a moment of passion. He declared that he did not think he had seriously hurt the earl, and that he would take him to his home if I would procure a cab. At the same time he begged the Duke of Ravensdale and Rita Vernon to take charge of Mrs. de Lara. I was getting seriously alarmed at the turn affairs had taken, and upon Lord Westray expressing a wish to get home, I acceded to Mr. D’Estrange’s request. Two cabs were procured. In one of them Mr. D’Estrange and Lord Westray took their departure, in the other Mrs. de Lara; the duke, and Rita Vernon. I saw them off from the door, and then re-entered the house. As I did so, I heard a groaning in a room on the right. I procured a light and opened the door, the key of which was turned in the lock. To my surprise I found my woman servant laid out on the ground, bound hand and foot with handkerchiefs, while a third gagged her mouth. I produce these handkerchiefs now. One has a ducal coronet on it, the other H. D’Estrange worked on it, and the third the name of Rita Vernon. Next day I received a letter, apparently in Lord Westray’s writing, begging me to keep strict silence on all that had occurred. He declared that if it leaked out his reputation would be lost,and he informed me that he intended disappearing for a couple of years, at the end of which he would return. He enclosed me some money, and promised to continue the donation quarterly, on condition of my silence. I received six donations in all, and three letters. At last the donations ceased, and I began to grow suspicious.”
“What first made you suspicious?”
“Well, sir, I noticed one day that the paper on which these letters were written was exactly similar to the quality used by Mrs. de Lara in her note to me on the afternoon of the day when the murder was committed, and I also thought Lord Westray’s continued absence after the time specified was suspicious. Finally, I went and made a clean breast of it to the present earl, who I found in receipt of various anonymous communications declaring the murder, and indicating where the body and clothes were concealed. He employed me to find out all I could. I set to work, sir, communicated with the police, and investigations were set on foot, with the result as we all know it.”
“Ah! you combine the work of a private detective with your other business, do you, Mr. Trackem?” inquires the Attorney-General graciously.
“I do, sir.”
Cross-examined by Hector D’Estrange.
“Have you the letter which you allege Mrs. de Lara wrote you?”
“The counsel for the prosecution has it, sir,” answers Mr. Trackem.
“Is it not a little strange you should have preserved that letter all these years, in view of the fact that you thought Lord Westray alive, and is it not a little strange that your communication to the new Lord Westray should have been almost simultaneous with the receipt by him of anonymous information?” pursues the accused.
It is Mr. Trackem’s turn to look confused, but he quickly pulls himself together as he answers, “No, I do not think so.”
Other witnesses are called to corroborate Mr. Trackem’s statement in some particulars, and to testify to the discovery of Lord Westray’s body and clothes, the latter being produced in court, this production causing much excitement.
Walter Long is next called. He identifies the chain, locket, and ring found on the skeleton as belonging to his late master, and he also identifies the clothes. He swears positively that Lord Westray was wearing all these things the day he disappeared.
“These, my lord,” declares Sir Anthony, “are the witnesses for the prosecution.”
And with this statement the Court adjourns for luncheon.
On reassembling, Hector D’Estrange opens the case for the defence.
“I shall not,” he observes quietly, “detain theCourt at any length with my opening statement. I have been charged with undue intimacy with Mrs. de Lara. The charge is stupid and disgusting, and when I inform your lordship and the gentlemen of the jury that Mrs. de Lara is my mother, this will at once be evident, and show the groundlessness of the charge. I deny the statement that Lord Westray was a frequent and admitted visitor at my mother’s house, though he made many endeavours to be one. Only once he obtained ingress, and was ordered out both by Mrs. de Lara and myself. He has been the curse of my mother’s life. The sufferings of Lady Altai must be green in the memory of many, while the fate that befell my father at his hands is matter of history. I shall call Mrs. de Lara, who will deny having written either to Mr. Trackem or to her maid. She will explain how these so-called mysterious visits to London were solely to see her child. She will describe to you how it was her custom to walk out at night in her grounds at Windsor, and how on the evening of the day on which I am accused of murdering Lord Westray, she was set upon by two men, gagged, bound hand and foot, transferred to a carriage, and taken in it to London, where, at the house of Mr. Trackem, she was handed over to the mercy of Lord Westray, from whom God in His mercy enabled me to rescue her in time. This evidence will be corroborated by Rita Vernon, who will explain all she was eyewitness to. She will tell you how she clung tothe back of the brougham which contained Mrs. de Lara all the way to London, and having taken note of the house—which, alas! she knew too well—hurried to Montragee House to apprise the Duke of Ravensdale, whom she knew to be my dear friend, of the terrible occurrence. There she happily found both him and myself, and we at once proceeded to my mother’s rescue. Effecting an entrance into the house, we gagged and bound the woman who let us in, and then, guided by Rita Vernon, stole noiselessly upstairs to what Rita styled the best room. On reaching the door she halted, and bade me listen to a voice, which I recognised as that of Lord Westray’s. Mad with fury, I dashed open the door—what to find? Why my mother, gagged and bound, a prisoner in the hands of the scoundrel who had wrecked and ruined her life. My lord, would not the sight have driven you mad? I drew my revolver, and shot him where he stood. He uttered a cry and fell. Quickly the duke and I cut the thongs that bound my mother. Her hands were cramped and saturated with blood, across both palms extending a ghastly gash. We carried her tenderly downstairs, procured a cab, and in Rita Vernon’s and the Duke of Ravensdale’s kind care she was transferred to Montragee House. I then went back to the room where Lord Westray was lying, where I found him alone with Mr. Trackem. I offered to call the police and state what had occurred. Lord Westray was seated on the sofa, and begged menot to do so. He declared the wound was nothing, and requested me to leave him, and on no account to disclose what had occurred. For my mother’s sake, and yet on another account, I agreed. Next day I called upon Mr. Trackem, who informed me of the letter he had received from Lord Westray, the contents of which he has communicated in his evidence to-day. I regret, however, to have to say that the greater part of the remainder of his evidence has been falsely given, why, I am at a loss to understand, as beyond the encounter in the house in Verdegrease Crescent, I had no quarrel with him whatsoever. I propose now to call my witnesses.”
Mrs. de Lara is called. Her appearance in court excites the greatest interest. For though few have seen the beautiful Lady Altai of former days, the story of her marriage, her flight with Harry Kintore, and the tragic sequel in which Lord Westray figured so prominently, is well known in Society. So this is Speranza de Lara, mother of Hector D’Estrange?
“No wonder he is handsome, with such a mother as that!” gasps Mrs. de Lacy Trevor. “Dodo dear, it’s the same lovely woman we met him riding with on the Burton Course long ago, at Melton, don’t you remember? The mystery’s cleared at last.”
She stops abruptly and stares at her friend, for Lady Manderton is scarcely heeding her, and there are large tears in her fine, handsome eyes.
“Why, what is the matter, Dodo?”
“Nothing, Vivi, nothing! There, don’t attract attention,” she answers hastily.
She is thinking though, how wasted has been her life. She has heard Hector D’Estrange’s statement, and believes it implicitly. She is thinking that others may not, though. If Hector D’Estrange is condemned, well, Dodo Manderton feels that she would die to save him.