CHAPTER XXXI

ANDE'S REVENGE

----"A grudge, time out of mind begun, And mutually bequeathed from sire to son."

--_Tatian_.

"Lanyan forever! Lanyan forever!"

"Trembath forever! Trembath forever!"

The old town of Helston was a roaring, gesticulating mass, and the shouting of bellowing partisans reverberated up and down Coinage Hall Street. Crowd met crowd, waving their respective banners, opprobious names were shouted, fists flung in the air, and a special force of officers were busy from early morn quieting unruly fellows, some of them more stirred by the spirits of the Angel Inn than the spirits of politics. It was the period of the election for the Reform Parliament. Sir James Lanyan had come forth on the old party platform, and, most unexpectedly, in opposition to him, came Andrew Trembath. The latter had made himself eligible by the purchase of the Primrose Cottage, thus making himself a landholder of forty shillings annual value.

Towards noon the crowds converged upon the Bowling Green, where upon a raised platform sat the Mayor, the town functionaries, the candidates, and their proposers and seconds.

The figure of Sir James was just as tall as of old; the same eagle nose and piercing eyes; the same easy, urbane manner and distinguished appearance. The Conservatives admired him. His wealth, astuteness, experience, all urged the necessity of his return to the forum of government. There was an easiness of manner in the very position Sir James occupied that augured well his own hopes of the coming election. Why should he not have hopes? The interests of the landed party were all back of him. The Godolphins and all their followers were in his train. Reform measures were dangerous in their eyes to the staid health, political, of the country.

On the left, Andrew Trembath was not so easy in his mind. Sir James was an old general, and he knew it; but within Ande's breast was the buoyant hopes of youth. Here was the first stroke of revenge against an ancient foe. Could Sir James be beaten in his cherished hopes, and that by an upstart of a hated family, the more triumph.

The preliminary proceedings were gone through rapidly. Sir James, with a good bit of wisdom, had selected as his proposer a retired country gentleman and as his second a tradesman of Helston, thus drawing from the sympathy of both classes. The proposer, however, weakened his cause by his interlarding his speech with many classic quotations, learned no doubt when he was a lad at Eton, and also by a most unfortunate mentioning of the stain of treason on the name of the opposing candidate. Sir James, himself, though he sympathised with his proposer, felt irritated that he should make such a blunder, and a slight frown passed over his placid features.

The proposer of Andrew Trembath was none other than the Reverend Mr. Trewan, headmaster of the Grammar School. In a short, neat speech, and with a few, withering remarks, he scattered the arguments of the proposer's speech in favour of Sir James. Then speaking of his candidate, Andrew Trembath, he referred to his being a scholar of his own school, his honesty, uprightness, and his grasp upon the problems that were stirring old England to her very centre, and closed with an able plea for the seating of ability, though that ability was young. There were strong cheers and many "hears!" from the crowd on its conclusion. But none of these preliminary cheers were so hearty as those which greeted the second, as he arose to greet the audience. And no wonder, for the seconder of Mr. Trewan's speech was the new champion of Cornwall, Dick Thomas. Sir James looked a trifle worried, for he saw the diplomacy in the choice of these. The headmaster of the Grammar School had weight, and Dick Thomas had the hearts of the commonality. The speech which he made was homely enough, and demonstrated that he was, as he said, more a man of action than one of words. But he was Dick Thomas, and Dick Thomas was a host.

Sir James arose with a look of relief on his features. He was a man accustomed to deal with the masses, and wished to offset, as much as possible, the blunders of his own proposer and the enthusiasm of the crowd over the speeches of the opposition. His speech was replete with smooth phrases, and the whole was conducted to the close with the arguments of a logician and the subtility of an old parliamentarian. He demonstrated that he had a clear grasp on the problems of the day, and the temper of the people toward them, but what he did not know was the growing popular estimation of himself among the masses. They were getting to realise that Sir James Lanyan was a "trimmer" and was more for Sir James Lanyan than anything else. He said in part:

"For upwards of a dozen years I have served the people of this section as their representative in the House of Commons, and I trust that, at this time, the confidence of the electors, that they have manifested so often heretofore in my experience and labours, will still remain with me. [Hisses and groans.] These are stirring times and the storms have swept over, again and again, the ship of state, threatening to founder her, and reduce the civilisation of the grandest and most enlightened country under the sun to a melancholy wreck and ruin, battered and beaten by every sea, and a prey of the pirates of Europe. To a careful observer, what perils threaten our country? The spirit of the old-time Luddites has again broken forth in the wrecking of machinery and ruthless destruction of property, and there is trouble and turmoil on every side that, unless checked by the firm hand of a Conservative government, will bring anarchy and ruin. In the midst of all these movements come our friends of the opposition with their so-called, universal panacea of Reform. Reform! Reform what?

"Would you reform the introduction of machinery? We cannot do it. If the people themselves could see the benefits of the oncoming flood of invention, they would not desire to do it. With the vision of a prophet I clearly see the time when business shall be enlarged, living become cheaper, wages higher, all on account of the increased output and increased commerce brought and caused by the introduction of machinery. Will this affect Cornwall? To-day, Cornwall has nothing but her farms, her fisheries and her mines, but with the advent of new machinery will come the spreading of new factories, until even within the 'Delectable Duchy' shall roar and sound the noise of spindles, giving employment to thousands of Cornishmen and their children. The increased wealth of the country will add to the price to be obtained for fish commodities and farm products, and there will be an era of prosperity for the hardy miner, fisherman and farmer such as they have never dreamed of before. Reform? Shall we reform the election laws and boroughs. The statement is frequently made that the election laws give unequal representation, and that there are members of the Commons not placed there by the people, and it is true; but abolish the present system and you will purloin from the nation the services of some of her stoutest pillars. If everything is to depend upon a wider suffrage and the throwing out of what has been called pocket boroughs, where would our broad-minded statesmen, who have, temporarily, not the support of the people, come in? Had it not been for a pocket borough, Burke, that Cicero of English politics, would never have entered the halls of legislation. Had it not been for the pocket borough, our most eminent statesmen, North, Flood, Canning, Plunket, Brougham, and others, equally indispensable, would not have gained a foothold in the parliamentarian halls. Sheridan, defeated at Stafford, found support in Ilchester; Grey, refused by Northumberland, was returned by Tavistock."

Here Sir James was interrupted by a rough, country lout, who said gravely that he had a question to ask of great importance.

"Well, my man," and Sir James flashed a keen look at him.

"I would like to ask," said the fellow with a leer, "whether m'lord could lend me half a sovereign?"

The absurdity of the thing gave the audience its desired fun, and a roar of laughter came from the crowd. But Sir James was not the man to be put down with the word of a buffoon. With a smile of sarcasm, he responded:

"Yes, my man, I can lend you not only a half a sovereign, but twenty sovereigns, when the cause of good government, which I represent, has prevailed, and then you will need no borrowing, but you will have so many, easily earned by yourself, that you will want to lend instead of borrow. The very reason that so many are out of half sovereigns to-day is because of the mob spirit and discontent stirred up by the element of so-called reform. I ask whether it was patriotism that stirred up the agitation for so-called reform? No. It could not have been that, for the best good of the nation, at the present time, requires peace and harmony."

Continuing, Sir James referred to the agitation of France that gave vent to Napoleon, and was interrupted here and there with various crys of "Tommy-rot!" and "Gammon!" from his opponents, and equally strong "Hears!" from the Conservative wing, and closed his speech with a strong plea for the upholding of the old line party.

He was not nearly so confident when he finished as when he began. He was beginning to realise that there was an undercurrent against him, personally. His agents had brought him word before of this, but he had placed it all down to the spirit of the reform movement. But now he was beginning to realise different. Dick Thomas and Ande's agents had not been idle in the period of the canvass. Sir James' conduct in reference to the Trembaths, to the Vivians, and his crookedness in politics, was fully aired among the voters, and those who could not be persuaded to vote against the old line policies, were moved, by the revelation of the unscrupulous conduct of Sir James, to abstain from voting at all.

There was silence when the new candidate, Andrew Trembath, arose to respond. Shaking back the tangled masses of auburn hair from his forehead, he opened his speech in clear, ringing tones. His introduction demonstrated that he had a tolerably clear perception of the issues of the day. He spoke feelingly of the popular agitation.

"These riots, this breaking of machinery, this tumult in many parts of the kingdom, to what is it due? To the spirit of reform? No. Rather is it due to the desire of the people for better conditions. The time has come when the voice of the people shall be heard, and that voice speaks in no uncertain accents. Too long has the government been in the hands of demagogues who have little to recommend them for election but corruption; and now all over this fair land of ours the people have arisen in their might, and demanded an extended suffrage. It is true, as Sir James has said, that great and good men have been returned from these pocket boroughs, but that single advantage can be offset by innumerable and inevitable disadvantages. These pocket boroughs are generally nests of corruption, held and dominated by some lord or landholder. The half a dozen or so good men that were placed in position by them can be offset by the hundreds of members that are fitter for Newgate than for the parliamentarian halls."

"Men like James Lanyan," shouted some one in the crowd.

An angry hue was on Sir James' countenance for a moment, but neither he nor Ande noticed the interruption.

"What right has a green mound in a grassy field or a hayrick to send a representative, while great and flourishing towns like Manchester and Sheffield have none?"

"Hear! Hear! Hear!" shouted many in the crowd.

Continuing, Ande took up, one by one, the arguments of the opposition, and tore them shred by shred, until not a vestige remained. Then he triumphantly drew from his pocket a perfect arsenal of facts, culled from Sir James' speech of years ago, when, turned down for a time by his own party, he sought refuge in the ideas of reform. The very facts used in his conversation with Squire Vivian, Captain Tom Lanyan and the others, when around the tea table in Lanyan Hall so many years ago, and which facts he used in a speech on the hustings at that time, were quoted now, and they were like arrows piercing his very soul. The Conservative wing were silent with consternation, and Sir James looked down, uneasily. Then turning to the record of Sir James in the Commons, he quoted how he had again and again voted against the will of his constituents. Then after a few, withering flights of oratory, which sent the Radicals wild with delight and chilled the Conservatives into icy stillness, he said:

"And now, members of the Conservative wing, you are going to vote for a man who has uttered sentiments like these, and acted in this manner. I need not speak to the members of my own party, I know their determination for good government, but to you Conservatives. You are going to vote for a man who has thus betrayed your sacred trust and thus surrendered your standards to the enemy. What does all his actions and speaking amount to in your minds? Just this, that though he is an experienced hand, yet you know not what he stands for. Like a vacillating weather vane, he is apt to be turned one way or the other as the interests of Sir James Lanyan may direct."

There was an uproarious "Hear! Hear!" from the Radicals, and the black looks that the Conservatives turned on Sir James were perceived by even that worthy himself. He shrugged his shoulders and took on his indifferent and placid expression. But Andrew Trembath was not through yet, for he continued bringing up clause after clause of Sir James' speeches, sweeping the audience fairly off its feet with a torrent of indignant oratory such as it had never before heard. All the poetry in his nature, all the passion of years of wrong heaped upon his family, burst forth then and there. There was no more applause from any in that assemblage, for they were all so enthralled that they hung upon each word uttered, riveted their eyes upon each gesture, and remained motionless like a painted throng. Then turning from indignant invective, he gazed lovingly over the Bowling Green and swept his vision around toward the town, and his eyes became misty with emotion.

"Helston! Dear old Helston!" he exclaimed, and he stretched out his arms to the town and people, and there was such emotion, tenderness and love in that tone that the crowd wept though they could not tell why.

Sir James' proposer had called him a foreigner in little touch with English ideals. He proved the contrary. He called vividly to mind the days spent as a school lad among them, the exciting days of the hurling match when Breage was defeated, and men nodded their heads and smiled as they remembered. Then sweeping into the closing address, he said:

"We need a strong and experienced hand at the helm in these perilous times, it is true, but far more do we need honesty, virtue, and manliness. Is youth, though inexperienced, yet with average intelligence, to be despised and condemned by the very fact of youth? Ask the rector or parish minister the names of the two most prominent lights in the expansion of religion, and he will say young Saul and youthful Timothy. Gray at thirty-four finished the most beautiful elegy in the English tongue. Milton began his career at a tender age. Shakespeare was but twenty-seven when his name became an authority on the drama. Napoleon, in his meteoric career, astonished and convulsed the world, yet he was a young man. What name more brilliant in English annals for courage and success than that of the well-beloved Wolfe of Quebec fame--yet he perished on the field of battle at the age of thirty.

"Civil government has also her young heroes. Need I mention the great name of Burke, who, at the age of twenty-six, won for himself a reputation for statesman-like judgment and skill that has placed his name high on the imperishable roll of fame. Need I mention Fox, and that other character who still lives as a blessing in the minds of Englishmen--still lives as the greatest diplomatist of the age--still lives in the agitation for liberty and fair representation that so pervades the country to-day?"

"Pitt! Pitt! Pitt!" roared the crowd.

"Aye, you have named him. Ask any bookman for a life of William Pitt, and he will hand you down a history of England from 1781 to 1806, for from twenty-one years of age down to the day of his death, his life has been a history of the empire. Is youth and inexperience to be despised? No! No!"

"No! No!" shouted the crowd, taking up the words of the speaker. "Huzza for Andrew Trembath!" And for the space of a few minutes the crowd let out its pent-up enthusiasm in wild gesticulating of hands and roaring of voices.

The speaker concluded with a peroration that was eloquent and passionate. Pathetic passages at times hushed that great crowd into silence, moved it to tears, and then again swayed it to applause, and when it was finished, and the speaker resumed his seat, there was silence for a moment--then, like the roaring of great guns in battle action, the throng, Radical and Conservative, sent up shout after shout, that reverberated again and again o'er the town of Helston, and caused the birds in the neighbouring trees to take refuge in flight. Such a speech had never been delivered from the hustings before. Old men shook their heads sagely, and muttered to each other that in a short time another Pitt would astonish England and the world, and that one would be from Cornwall.

Suffice it to say, that Andrew Trembath was elected by an overwhelming vote as M. P. for Helston.

Old Parson Trant met him the next day near the Primrose Cottage, and congratulated him on his election and bright, future prospects.

"I had a purpose in view," said Ande. "It was not so much my desire to enter Parliament as my antagonism to Sir James. I have had my first revenge, and there are others to follow."

"Lad, lad," said the old parson, as he sadly shook his head, "I like not that revengeful spirit, though you have had much provocation. There is a better way of revenge."

"What way?"

"'If thy enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.'"

Ande said nothing, and the conversation, after a time, passed to other themes.

After his defeat, Sir James Lanyan gave his attention to speculation, but the ventures turning out unprofitable, he was compelled to sell Trembath Manor, through his solicitors, to the agents of a wealthy American traveller. But this was but a drop in the bucket of his financial reverses, and Lanyan Hall followed suit. The purchaser of Lanyan Hall was Andrew Trembath, but the fact was unknown to any one but old Parson Trant, to whom Ande had confided the secret of his wealth. Subsequently the purchaser was revealed to Sir James, and the revelation seemed a crushing blow to him, for he sickened and began to sink rapidly.

"'Tis my second revenge," said Ande to old Parson Trant, and there was a grim, determined look on his features. "There are others to follow."

"Lad, lad, you must not go on in this way. Vengeance is of God. 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay.' There is a much better way, and you can do me, your old pastor, a favour, and render God a service at the same time." The old parson drew a pathetic picture of Sir James in his present condition, poor, helplessly sinking into the grave. To follow up any more of this revenge was hellish. It belied Ande's nature to continue thus, and if this revenge should continue, he, the parson, could not love him any more. There was one thing that would prolong Sir James' life, and that was the bringing back to him of his son, Richard, who was leading a wild, vicious life somewhere in London. This was the report of the physician. "He must be brought back to his father, who is calling for him. Who is better fitted for that mission than yourself, Master Ande? You are going to attend Parliament in a few weeks. Go a little before--aye, go at once to London, and take up this mission."

"I! I!" stammered Ande, in some astonishment and with a little of the old, angry feeling tingling in his veins. "You know what we have suffered--you----"

"But, Ande," interrupted the old rector, as he placed his arm around his shoulder in the same, affectionate manner as in the olden days, and with kind, loving tones resumed, "If Christ had felt that way to us, where would we be?" The old parson preached one of the most appealing sermons, then and there, that he had ever delivered. Concluding, he said, quoting the words of Scripture: "'Ye have heard that it hath been said an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth; but I say unto ye, resist not evil. Ye have heard that it hath been said, ye shall love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy; but I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you,--that ye may be the children of your Father in heaven.' 'Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.'"

"Would it not be hypocritical to show kindness, when you are bitter with revenge within?"

"No; by showing kindness, even though you do not feel it within, yet nevertheless it has a healthy action on the soul. Do a kindness and you grow kind. We become what we do, my lad. Do it now, not because of your feelings, but because the Lord commanded it. And by and by you will do kindness to an enemy because your own heart commands it."

"I will go in the morning."

"And God will bless you, my son," said the old rector, as he parted from him and wended his way home. There, the parson mentioned the matter to his wife, Harriet, with some doubt as to the issue.

"I fear me, Harriet, it is like sending a fire-brand to quench a fire-brand."

Andrew Trembath was true to his promise, for that week saw him in London, actively pushing the search. Hearing of a midnight brawl, in which Richard was engaged, and which was publicly published in the newspapers, he sought that quarter, but Richard, fearing perhaps the police, had fled. His father had also heard of the brawl. It was the last of a series of crushing disgraces on the part of his son that sent Sir James into the grave. Ande did not give up the search, but Parliament convening, he was forced to give more time to other affairs.

It was in the early hours of the morning when one of the night sessions of Parliament adjourned, and Andrew Trembath, tired of the stupid, blocking tactics of those opposed to reform, was wending his way home to his rented quarters in Portman Square. The streets were deserted and he hastened along absorbed in his thoughts. A figure stole out from the shadow of some buildings in his rear. There was a quick leap, the glitter of steel in the air, and then Ande felt a stinging sensation in his shoulder. Like a flash he turned and had his assailant pinioned in an iron grip. He struggled to release himself, but to no avail. The knife dropped with a clang to the pavement and Ande kicked it from him. The light of a street lamp flashed on the would-be assassin's features.

"Richard Lanyan! You! You! You, who broke your father's heart,--you, the Etonian scholar,--you, base as you are, stoop to be the assassin!"

"Yes, curse you!" gritted the answer from between the clenched teeth of the writhing assailant.

"And why?"

"Because you have been the ruin of father, and not I. You occupy his place in Parliament. You took away Lanyan Hall. You took away the only woman I ever loved, and it is--revenge."

"Lanyan, listen to me," sternly, and still keeping his grip. Ande related in brief epitome the injuries he and his and the Vivians had received at the hands of Richard and his father, closing with the question: "Who has been the injured party? Your father's place I occupy because the people put me there. Your father lost Lanyan Hall because of his foolish speculations. If I hadn't bought it, some one else would. His death was mainly brought on by your own sottish conduct."

The eyes of Lanyan flamed with sullen passion, as he muttered, "I'll not endure this from you," and again made an effort to escape.

"Make another effort to escape and I hand you over to the watchman, or perhaps better still I could kill you where you are. What would the law and opinion say if I should? They would say it was good riddance of a rough character and in self-defence, and you see I have the strength to carry it out."

Lanyan paled a little, notwithstanding the brave heart he had, for he realised that he was but feeble in the hands of this man, his captor. He ceased his struggles and listened sullenly.

"But I have other plans," said Ande, gently. "I believe the fellow who won a prize at Eton is capable of better things. I place the best construction on your past actions. It was the ungovernable love for Mistress Alice Vivian that caused much of your past action."

There was no answer.

"I know that was the cause, and also the cause of your whole life being spent thus, and also of this last attempted deed. And I had been searching for you for months before your father's death, plunging into every slum and dive of London. I promised to bring you back to your father, and thus prolong his days. Your name was the last he called upon in his delirium. I tried to find you, but failed."

Ande released his grasp, for it was unnecessary. Lanyan was weeping in an agony of remorse and wretchedness.

"But still the hour is not too late now to begin again in right paths, and rear up your family name to its former, ancestral honour. You can do it."

"I cannot," groaned Lanyan, all hatred and vengeance apparently gone from him. "I cannot; I have no money, and to live honestly in a poor position----No--No."

"I will help you. Come now, Lanyan, let us forget the past evils between our families. Oh, think how good God is to prevent you in the commission of a great crime, this night, that would blast your name irretrievably. God is better to us both than we deserve. He bestowed upon us these minds, these souls, and placed us in a beautiful world, and yet we abuse His gifts. Think, Lanyan, that you and I have souls to present upright and pure before the great God, the Father. It is a terrible thing to think that these passions, if we allow them to rule us here, by God's judgment, they shall rule us in the future. I confess that my hatred for you and yours has mastered me heretofore, but Parson Trant preached me a special sermon privately, when he asked me to seek you, and I have revolved it over and over again in my mind, and, with God's help, which I prayed for and received, my hatred is gone. If I had found you before, I should not have spoken to you in this way. I should have probably mentioned your father's desire to see you and left. Now it is different. Let the past be past, and here is my hand."

Lanyan grasped the hand extended to him and there was a wavering in his voice as he said:

"Trembath, you have a much better nature than I have. I must go."

"No, no," said Ande, detaining him, and he poured forth his plan, then and there, for the turning over of Lanyan Hall to Richard. This was conditioned on his reform.

Richard was to have possession of the ancestral place at a nominal rent, and when the rent would total the sum Ande had paid for it, the deed of complete ownership was to pass over to Richard.

There was silence for a moment.

"Come," said Ande, as he placed one arm over his shoulder, "don't on account of past ill feeling refuse this chance of making a man of yourself and uplifting, once again, your ancient family."

There was a period of inward conflict in the breast of the man beside him, and then, in resolute tones, he answered, simply: "I'll try. Forgive me, Trembath, for to-night's action, and for the injustice done by our family."

The two men shook hands firmly, and separated, Ande to seek a surgeon to have his wound dressed. But the wound gave him little pain, and what pain there was was wonderfully alleviated by the gladness of soul within. He knew that the best vengeance was forgiveness, as the old rector had said.