Chippinge Borough

The year had waned and waxed, and it was June again. At Stapylton the oaks were coming to their full green; the bracken was lifting its million heads above the sod, and by the edge of the Garden Pool the water voles sat on the leaves of the lilies and clean their fur. Arthur Vaughan-strolling up and down with his father-in-law, not without an occasional glance at Mary, recumbent on a seat on the lawn-looked grave.

"I fancy," he said presently, "that we shall learn the fate of the Bill to-day."

"Very like, very like," Sir Robert answered, in an offhand fashion, as if the subject were not to his taste. And he turned about and by the aid of his stick expounded his plan for enlarging the flower garden.

But Vaughan returned to the subject. "If not to-day, to-morrow," he said. "And that being so, I've wanted for some time, sir, to ask you what you wish me to do."

"To do?"

"As to the seat at Chippinge."

Sir Robert's face expressed his annoyance. "I told you-I told you long ago," he replied, "that I should never interfere with your political movements."

"And you have kept your word, sir. But as Lord Lansdowne cedes the seat to you for this time, I assume-"

"I don't know why you assume anything!" Sir Robert retorted irritably.

"I assume only that you will wish me to seek another seat."

"I certainly don't wish you to lead an idle life," Sir Robert answered. "When the younger men of our class do that, when they cease to take an interest in political life, on the one side or the other, our power will, indeed, be ended. Nothing is more certain than that. But for Chippinge, I don't choose that a stranger should hold a seat close to my own door. You might have known that! For the party, I have taken steps to furnish Mr. Cooke, a man whose opinions I thoroughly approve, with a seat elsewhere; and I have therefore done my duty in that direction. For the rest, the mischief is done. I suppose," he continued in his driest tones, "you won't want to bring in another Reform Bill immediately?"

"No, sir," Vaughan answered gratefully. "Nor do I think that we are so far apart as you assume. The truth is, Sir Robert, that we all fear one of two things, and according as we fear the one or the other we are dubbed Whigs or Tories."

"What are your two things?"

"Despotism, or anarchy," Vaughan replied modestly.

Sir Robert sniffed. "You don't refine enough," he said, pleased with his triumph. "We all fear despotism; you, the despotism of the one: I, a worse, a more cruel, a more hopeless despotism, the despotism of the many! That's the real difference between us."

Vaughan looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you are right," he said. "But-what is that, sir?" He raised his hand. The deep note of a distant gun rolled up the valley from the town.

"The Lords have passed the Bill," Sir Robert replied. "They are celebrating the news in Chippinge. Well, I am not sorry that my day is done. I give you the command. See only, my boy," he continued, with a loving glance at Mary, who had risen, and, joined by Miss Sibson, was coming to the end of the bridge to meet them, "see only that you hand it on to others-I do not say as I give it to you, but as little impaired as may be."

And again, as Mary called to them to know what it was, the sound of the gun rolled up the valley-the knell of the system, good or bad, under which England had been ruled so long. The battle of which Brougham had fired the first shot in the Castle Yard at York was past and won.

Boom!

THE END