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“My dear West,” said Sir Creighton Severn when after church the next day, he found himself seated opposite to the new Minister of the Annexation Department in Mr. West’s library. “My dear West, so old a friend as I am should be the first to offer you congratulations. You see that your ambition was not the foolish impulse that so many people in the old days said that it was. You had the stuff in you.”
“I knew that you would be the first, my dear Severn,” said the new Minister. “We have both done very well for ourselves since those old days—those cruel old days, Severn. Ah, we had both ambitions of the right sort. We knew how to make the most of our opportunities, you and I. Yes, we have done pretty well for ourselves.”
“And we have done pretty well for others too—if people only knew it,” said Sir Creighton.
“Yes, yes, the world is the happier for our having lived in it—you in particular, Severn—you in particular. Your inventions—where are they going to end? that’s what some one was saying to me the other day—a man at the Admiralty—we had been hearing the result of the trial of that boat of yours. Ah, you are fortunate, Severn. Your work is recognised freely; whereas the labours of one who aspires to be thought a statesman—ah, how few appreciate the life of perpetual self-sacrifice which we are compelled to lead. People talk of the sweets of office—sweets?—Do you know, Severn, I feel greatly inclined sometimes to relinquish forever all this worry of political life—all this noise—the clamour—the—the strepitum—that is the word—the strepitum—and settle down to enjoy the life which is nearest to my heart—the home life—the home—the hearth.”
“Not yet—not yet, my friend,” said Sir Creighton, shaking his head sadly. “You are not your own master now. Your duty may be an onerous one, but there are too few statesmen in England for you to think of retiring yet awhile.”
“Well, perhaps one should not look at such a matter from the standpoint of one’s private feelings. You do not see so much of me nowadays as you once did, Severn; if you did you would know that the home—the hearth—ah—ah!”
“We do not see so much of each other; but our children—our girls, you know that they are inseparable—West,—you are the father of a girl whom I have come to understand, and to understand such a nature as hers is to love her. I love her as I do my own child; and I am here to talk to you about her.”
“Ah, Severn, she is a good girl—a noble girl, but—well, frankly, I am rather glad that this affair with Clifton has come to an end. It will be years before Clifton is anything but the merest wire-puller—a paltry provincial sort of jobbing jerrymander—that was—he will be—not without his uses, of course—those organisms have their uses to us; but I think that my daughter has every right to look for some one—some one, in short, more in her own rank in life. You heard, of course, that Clifton had been a fool—that it would be impossible for us to entertain any longer the idea of——”
“I saw Josephine yesterday. I am quite of your way of thinking in this matter. Clifton behaved badly from the first—inducing her to do an underhand thing—I know that her better nature recoiled from it. I cannot understand how you ever came to give your consent, West.”
“Well, you see, my dear Severn, I believed that she loved him, and a girl’s heart—ah, Severn, Severn, when the prospect of one’s daughter’s happiness——”
“That is what I want to talk to you about, West—her future happiness—and yours.”
“If you are going to talk to me about that man from Australia—or is it New Zealand?—whom she fancies she loves, you may spare yourself the trouble, my dear friend—I decline to discuss a man so obviously—flagrantly ineligible.”
“I have found out a good deal about him during the past month, and I have heard nothing except what is good.”
“Good—good—what signifies goodness—I mean, of course, that my daughter is now in a very different position from that she occupied six months ago. The best families in the land might receive her with open arms. But a Colonial—well, of course, they did very well in the war, the Colonials, and the mother country is proud of them—yes, quite proud of them. But for my daughter to marry a man who does not know his own father——”
“I know all about his father, though he does not.”
“I don’t want to know, anything, West. His father may have been the Archbishop of Canterbury for all I care; but the chances are that he was a convict—or a descendant of convicts.”
“You have not guessed very wide of the mark; his father was a convict.”
“What; and you are here to suggest that—that—good lord, Severn, are you mad—oh, you must be mad?”
“I do not consider that he is anything the worse for being the son of a convict, West. There is always the possibility of a convict being innocent.”
“Oh, they all affirm their innocence, of course. Now, that is all I want to hear about either father or son. You will stay to lunch, I hope—oh, yes, you must stay to lunch. The Marquis may drop in afterwards; his son is certainly coming. You know Lord Lullworth—a promising young fellow, Severn—quite promising. Come upstairs; Lady Gwendolen will be pleased.”
“One moment, my dear West. I happen to know that the convict father of Pierce Winwood, as he calls himself, was innocent of the crime for which he suffered.”
“Then comfort the son with that information. He will be glad to believe it, I am confident.”
“Shall I add to that information the name of the criminal on whose behalf he suffered?”
“You may add the names of all the heroes of the Newgate Calendar, if you please, my dear friend.”
“I will not offer him so interesting a catalogue. But come with me—I have taken the liberty of bringing him here with me: he is upstairs—I will give him the name of the real criminal in your presence and in the presence of the Marquis and the Marquis’s son and also present him with the proofs, which I have in my pocket, that I have not made a mistake.”
Sir Creighton took a step towards the door.
Mr. West did not move. His jaw had fallen. He had grasped the back of a chair.
