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"If it's really your job," replied Campion, "you will. You must. You can't help it. God made man so." It was only an hour or two later when, for the first time in my life, I came into practical touch with human misery, that I recognised the truth of Campion's perfervid optimism. No one could like our task that night in its outer essence. For a time it revolted me.
"I feel," he whispered to Mrs. Campion, "like poor Lord Pomfret, who, charmed with Punch's lively conversation, bought him, and was greatly surprised that, when he had once brought him home, Punch would not talk." "But your Punch listens," said Mrs. Campion, "and he observes." George Belvoir, on the other hand, was universally declared to be very agreeable.
A terrible and incredible thing had come to the knowledge of Sydney Campion. That morning he had looked in at his chambers in the Temple, and he had found there, amongst other letters, one written about three weeks before by Cora Walcott, which had made his blood run cold.
"I am quite willing to provide for the child," said Sydney, "and " "No," said the man, almost sternly; "hear me out first, Mr. Campion. She owes her misery to you, and, no doubt, you have always thought that money could make atonement. But that's not my view, nor hers. We would rather not give you the satisfaction of making what you call restitution.
Then he hurried away to take leave of his host and hostess, say a few significant words to the ally he had already gained in Mrs. Campion, and within an hour was on his road to London, passing on his way the train that bore Kenelm to Exmundham. Gordon was in high spirits. At least he felt as certain of winning Cecilia as he did of winning his election.
I was not in a merry mood, but I laughed. Campion had read the intention that had vaguely formulated itself in the back of my mind. "Of course I will," I said. We walked on a few steps down the still silent, disheartening street without speaking. Then he tugged his beard, half-halted, and glanced at me quickly. "See here," said he, "the more sensible people I can get in to help us the better.
"It is a most suitable union," said Sir John, alluding to Nan's marriage to Sydney Campion, and hoping to crush his wife a little, seeing that she had objected to it: "it does great credit to my discernment in bringing them together. I always knew that Campion would get on. Lord Montagu was very much pleased with him." "Nan looked lovely," said Lady Pynsent, ignoring her husband's innuendo.
He lived his impassioned creed in every fibre of his frame and faculties. He was Titanic, this rough miner, in his unconquerable hope, divine in his yearning love of humanity. When he ended there was a dead silence for a second, and then a roar of applause from the pale, earnest, city-stamped faces. A lump rose in my throat. Campion clutched my knee. A light burned in his eyes. "Well?
"Oh, Jim, dear, do you think she is so sure to succeed?" "If she doesn't, it will be pure cussedness on her part, and nothing else," said Jim. Clara reflected that she would tell Lettice what her husband said. She moved to the window and looked out. She was waiting for her guests, Lettice and Mrs. Campion, in the soft dusk of a sweet May evening, and she was a little impatient for their arrival.
"I hope you will allow, Miss Campion, that I know how to be silent when the occasion requires it! I did not break in upon your reverie, and should not have done so, however long it might have lasted." "I am sorry you have had to stand sentinel," said Lettice; "but you told me once that a woman never need pity a man for being kept waiting so long as he had a cigar to smoke."
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