So forth she sailed, and her eight daughters behind her, down the street, in by the churchyard gate, and up through the crowd to the porch with her face set like the calm of Doomsday.
IV.
Well, the congregation settled itself, and service began, and not a sign-- as why should there be?--of any feelings but holy devotion. The Whigs looked at their books, and the Tories looked at their books; and poor old Curate Grandison lost his place and his spectacles, and poor old Parson Polsue dropped asleep in the First Lesson. He"d neglected two parishes to come and preach the sermon: for Ardevora, you must know, was one of three livings he held besides a canonry, and he kept Grandison to serve the three, that being all he could afford after paying for his carriage-and-pair and postillions to carry him back and forth between us and Penzance, where he lodged for the sake of his asthma and the little card-parties for which Penzance was famous in those days. But not even an Election Sunday could keep him properly awake. So on went the old comedy, as by law established; the congregation, Whig and Tory, not able to hear one word in ten, but taking their cues from Tommy Size, the parish clerk.
The first sign of something amiss came about midway in the hymn before the sermon, with old Squire Martin"s setting down his book and dropping into his seat very sudden. Few noticed it, the pew being a tall one; but the musicianers overlooking it from the gallery saw him crossing his hands over his waistcoat, which caused one or two to play their notes false; and Nance Julian in the pew behind heard him groan: "I can"t sit it out!
Not for a hundred pounds can I sit it out!"
By this time Parson Polsue, with his sermon tucked under his arm, was tottering up the pulpit stairs, and Churchwarden Hanc.o.c.k standing underneath, as usual, to watch him arrive safe or to break his fall if he tumbled. And just as he reached the top and caught hold of the desk cushion to stay himself, Lord William dropped out of view in the face of the congregation, and the hymn--music and singing together--ciphered out like an organ with its bellows slit.
The next moment open flew the door of the Tregoose pew, and out poured Lord William and Squire Martin with judgment on their faces, making a bee-line for the fresh air; and after them Major Dyngwall with a look of concern; and after him young Bob Martin, that had only waited to pick up the others" hats.
Well, you can"t run a spark through a barrel of gunpowder. Like wildfire it flew about the church that the Duke"s party and the Parson had quarrelled, and this was a public protest. Whig and Tory settled that with one sc.r.a.pe of the feet, and Major Dyngwall turned in the porch to find the whole crowd at his heels.
"My good people," says he, "pray don"t alarm yourselves! I--I don"t quite know what"s the matter: a sudden indisposition--nothing serious.
Do, please, go back!"
"Go back? Not a bit of it! You"re quite right, sir--disgrace to a Christian country--high time for a public example--stand to it, sir, and the Bishop will have to interfere. Three cheers for the Red and Orange!
Three cheers for Religion and no Abuses! Three cheers for Lord William and Major Dyngwall! Hip-hip-hooray!" Do what the Major might, the crowd swept him and the poor sufferers through the churchyard and across the street, and hung cheering around the "George and Dragon," while he dosed the pair inside with hot brandy-and-water.
And all this while Kitty stood--as she declared ever after--with the thoughts hissing in her head like eggs in a frying-pan. She heard the crowd cheering outside, and felt the votes slipping away with every cheer.
She cast her eyes up to the pulpit, and there, through a haze, saw old Parson Polsue rubbing his spectacles and shaking like an aspen. Her wits only came back to her when the Tory candidates, in the pew before her, reached for their hats and prepared to follow the mob. Dr. Macann was actually fumbling with the b.u.t.ton of the door. Quick as thought then she seized a ha.s.sock, sprang on it, and, reaching over the part.i.tion, pressed a hand down on his chestnut wig.
"Sit still--sit still, man!" she commanded. "Thee"rt throwing helve after hatchet, I tell "ee. What"s a stomach-ache, after all?"
"I don"t follow you, Mrs. Lebow," said the Doctor: and small blame to him.
"Never you mind about understanding," said Kitty. "But sit you down and keep your eye on the Parson. See the colour on him--that"s anger, my dear! And see his jaw, full of blessed stubbornness! Nine good votes he has, and old Grandison a couple beside: and every one of "em as good as cast for you, if you"ll sit it out. Sit quiet for two minutes now, and to-morrow you shall sit for Ardevora."
"But the crowd?" the Doctor couldn"t help murmuring, though none the less he obeyed.
Kitty"s eye began to twinkle. "Leave the crowd to me," she was beginning, when her eye lit on John a Hall, that had entered and was making his way towards the pulpit, from which in the fury of his anger old Polsue was climbing down with a nimbleness you wouldn"t believe. And with that she almost laughed out, for a worse peacemaker the Whigs couldn"t have chosen.
But Major Dyngwall had sent him, having none to advise, and being near to his wits" end, poor young man.
"Beg your pardon, Parson," began John a Hall, stepping up with that grin on his face which he couldn"t help and which the Parson abominated: "but I"m here to bring Lord William"s compliments and apologies, and a.s.sure you from him that your sermon had nothing to do with his stomach-ache. Nothing whatever!"
Parson Polsue opened his mouth to answer, but thought better of it.
I reckon he remembered the sacred edifice. At any rate he went past John a Hall with a terrific turn of speed, and old Grandison after him: and the next news was the vestry-door slammed-to behind them both, as "twere with the very wind of wrath.
"And my poor mother used to recommend it for the colic!" said Kitty; which puzzled the Doctor worse than ever.
V.
Before evening "twas known through Ardevora that the Parson"s votes and interests had been booked by the Tories; which, of course, only made the Church rebels (as you might call them) the more set on standing by their conversion and voting for the Whigs. n.o.body could tell their numbers for certain, but n.o.body put them down under twenty; and both the Doctor and Mr. Saule called on Kitty that evening with faces like fiddles. But Kitty wasn"t to be daunted. "My dears," she said, "if the worst comes to the worst, and you can"t win these votes back by four o"clock to-morrow, I"ve a stocking full of guineas at your service; and I ha"n"t lived in Ardevora all this while without picking up the knowledge how to spend "em; and _that"s_ at your service too. But we"ll try a cheaper way first,"
says she, smiling to herself very comfortably.
Up at Tregoose they"d put Lord William and the old Squire to bed: and a score of Whig supporters spent the best part of the evening downstairs in the dining-room, with Major Dyngwall in the chair, working out the Voters"
List and making fresh calculations. On the whole they felt cheerful enough, and showed it: but they had to own, first, that the Parson"s votes were almost as bad as lost, whereas the amount of gains couldn"t be reckoned with certainty: and second, that, resting as they did upon a confusion between religious feeling and the stomach-ache, "twas important that Lord William should recover by next morning, show himself about the town and at the hustings, and clinch the mistake. John a Hall, who had a head on his shoulders when parsons weren"t concerned, shook it at this.
He didn"t believe for a moment that Lord William could be brought up to the poll; and as it turned out, he was right. But towards the end of the discussion he put forward a very clever suggestion.
"I don"t know," says he, "if the Major here"s an early riser?"
"Moderately," says Major Dyngwall, looking for the moment as if the question took him fairly aback. They didn"t think much of this at the time, but it came back to their minds later on.
"Well, then," says John a Hall, "you"re all terrible certain about the Parson"s votes being lost; but dang me if I"ve lost hope of "em yet.
Though I can"t do it myself, I believe the old fool could be handled.
By five in the morning, say, we shall know about Lord William.
If he can"t leave his bed--and I"ll bet he can"t--I suggest that the Major steps down, pays an early call, and tells Parson the simple truth from beginning to end."
"An excellent suggestion!" put in Mr. Newte. "I was about to make it myself. There"s nothing like telling the truth, after all: and I"ll take care it doesn"t get about the town till the poll"s closed."
Well, so it was arranged: and early next morning, after dressing himself very carefully and making sure that Lord William couldn"t leave his room (he was as yellow as an egg, poor fellow, with a kind of mild janders), away the Major starts upon his errand, promising to be back by seven, to be driven down to the poll behind a bra.s.s band.
On the stroke of eight, when Roger Newte, as Mayor and Returning Officer, declared the poll open, down the street came the blue-and-gold band, with Dr. Macann and Mr. Saule behind it bowing and smiling in a two-horse shay, and a fine pillaloo of supporters. They cheered like mad to find themselves first in the field, though disappointed in their hearts (I believe), having counted on a turn-up with the opposition band, just to start the day sociably. The Tory candidates climbed the hustings, and there the Doctor fired off six speeches and Mr. Saule a couple, while the votes came rolling in like pennies at the door of a menagerie. And still no sign of the Whigs, nor sound of any band from the direction of Tregoose. By half-past eight Roger Newte was looking nervous, and began to send off small boys to hurry his friends up. Towards nine o"clock Dr. Macann made another speech, and set the crowd roaring with ""Tis the voice of the sluggard," out of Dr. Watts"s hymn-book.
"But I don"t even hear his voice!" said he, very facetious-like: and "Seriously, gentlemen, my Whig friends might be more careful of your feelings. We know that they consider Ardevora their own: but they might at least avoid insulting the British Liberty they have injured,"--telling words, these, I can a.s.sure you. "Nor," he went on, "is it quite fair treatment of our worthy Mayor here, who cannot be expected, single-handed, to defy you as he defied the Court of King"s Bench and treat your votes as he treated your Rate List." Newte had to stand there and swallow this, though it was poison to him, and he swore next day he"d willingly spend ten years in the pit of the wicked for getting quits with Macann.
But what fairly knocked the fight out of him was to see, five minutes later, old Parson Polsue totter up the steps towards him with a jaw stuck out like a mule"s, and Grandison behind, and all their contingent.
Though made up of Tories to a man, the crowd couldn"t help hissing; but it affected the old Parson not a doit.
"Macann and Saule," said he, speaking up sharp and loud: and at the names the hissing became a cheer fit to lift the roofs off their eaves.
Newte fairly forgot himself. "Ha--haven"t you seen Major Dyngwall this morning?" he managed to ask.
And with that the crowd below parted, and John a Hall came roaring through it like a bull.
"Where"s the Major? Major Dyngwall! Who"s seen Major Dyngwall?"
"Ay, we"re all asking that?" called out some person, sarcastic-like: and all began to laugh and to boo. But John a Hall caught at the rail and swung himself up the steps.
"You thundering fools!" he bellowed. "Is it foul play that tickles you?
One of our candidates you"ve contrived to poison, and I"ve left him at Tregoose between life and death. What have you done with the other?"
By this time he had the mob fairly hushed and gaping. "What have you done with the other?" he shouted, banging his fist down on the Returning Officer"s table. "Let Parson Polsue speak first, for to my knowledge the Major was bound for his lodgings when last seen."
"I haven"t set eyes on him," said Parson Polsue.
"I saw him!" piped up a woman in the crowd. "I saw him about six this morning. He was walking along the foresh.o.r.e towards Mr. Grandison"s."
At this everyone turned to the Curate; but he shook his head.
"Major Dyngwall has not called on me this morning. Indeed, I have not seen him."
"Then run you and search--half a dozen of you!" commanded John a Hall.
"I"ll get to the bottom of this, I warn you. And as for you, Dr. Macann, and you, Mr. Saule--if you haven"t learnt the difference between honest fighting and poisoning--kidnapping--murder, maybe--"
But he got no further. "That"s enough of big words," said a voice, very quiet, but so that all had to listen: and behold, there was Kitty Lebow mounting the steps, as cool as cream in a dairy.