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Updated: May 16, 2025
Even as it was, however, surely, I thought, he would tell me something now about himself and Constance. But though I made several openings, he told me nothing. While John Crondall was away a new State Under-Secretaryship was created.
Truly Crondall had said that the Canadian preachers accomplished more than they knew. The sense of duty, individual and national, burned in England for the first time since Nelson's day: a steady, white flame. The acceptance by all classes of the community of the Imperial Parliament's programme of work proved this.
With Crondall, every other consideration hinged upon and was subservient to the Imperialist idea of devotion to the bond which united all British possessions under one rule. The maintenance and furtherance of that tie, the absorption of all parts into that great whole, the subordination of all other interests to this: that I took to be John Crondall's great end in life.
The country's call upon its subjects was all-absorbing in the eyes of this "one little bit of a girl from South Africa," as Crondall had called her. Even now, my standing in her eyes, my immediate personal needs, loomed nearer, larger in my mind than England's fate.
I was introduced to the speaker, John Crondall, by a Cambridge man I knew, who came there on behalf of a Conservative paper, which had recently taken a new lease of life in new hands, and become the most powerful among the serious organs of the Empire party.
The mere sound of Constance's voice thrilled me as nothing else could. But I am glad to remember now that I no longer knew so small an emotion as jealousy where she was concerned. John Crondall was the strongest man of all the men I knew; Constance was the sweetest woman. Here was a natural and fitting comradeship. I thought of my chief as the mate of the woman I loved. My heart ached at times.
Did you ever regret the partnership?" "Now if that isn't straight out Western fashion!" murmured Reynolds. Constance beamed at me from her place beside John Crondall. "I leave it at that," said our host. "A palpable bull's-eye," said Forbes Thompson. I hardly needed George Stairs's friendly clap on the shoulder, nor the assurance of his: "You are right, Dick.
But we know now that, so far at all events as his remarks were prophetic, John Crondall was absolutely right; though whether or not the new evangel could have achieved what it did without the invasion is another matter. Myself, I believe nothing could have been more triumphantly successful, more pregnant with great possibilities for good, than the event of that afternoon.
And it was that fact which provided incessant employment, not alone for John Crondall and myself, and our headquarters staff, during the progress of the war, but for our committees throughout the country. Before reëntering private life, every Citizen was personally interviewed and given the opportunity of being resworn under conditions of permanent membership.
She looked at me, and perhaps that reminded her of something. "Forgive my familiarity," she said. "John Crondall spoke of you as Dick Mordan. It's rather a way we have out there." I do not remember my exact reply, but it earned me the friendly short name from her for the future; and, with England tumbling about our ears, for aught we knew, that, somehow, made me curiously happy.
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