The Man Who Rose Again Part 2

He had apparently imbued the others with his own spirit. For the moment they were eager to see what would happen.

"Name your woman," went on Leicester. "What, are you afraid? Will you not support your doctrine of the n.o.bility of women? I give it as my opinion that women are uniformly selfish, vain, and sordid. I maintain that what they want is a man who will give them position, name, prominence. Given that, and everything goes by the board. And I stand by it. I place a hundred pounds upon it. All I ask you to do is to name your woman."

There was a wild gleam in his eye, and he was evidently prepared to stand by his words. As for the others, they yielded more and more to his stronger personality.

"No," said Sprague presently, "it is not fair. If either of us had a sister we would not like to make her the subject of such a proposition."

"But if you are right, my dear, good friends," went on Leicester, "no harm can be done. I propose to the lady, and I am refused. What then? It is only another ill.u.s.tration of the downfall of Radford Leicester, the atheist, the cynic, the drunkard. But I am willing to risk it. All I say is, name the woman. Let her be the best you can think of; let her be the most exemplary, the most high-minded, the most orthodox, and I maintain that she'll not care a fig about all my failings, if she believes in the brilliance of my career."

"If you hadn't drunk so much whisky you'd not propose such a thing,"

said Purvis.

"Oh, you are backing out, are you?" sneered Leicester. "It is always the same. Fellows like you utter pious plat.i.tudes; you proclaim the glory of women; you hold up your hands with horror at a man who dares tell the truth, and then you back out like cowards. I say there is no woman but who has her price. You quote that lying gossip about Miss Blackstone refusing me because of my heresies and my whisky drinking. I tell you it is a lie invented by Sprague's mother, and I go further and I say that there is no woman who really cares a fig for these things, provided you can satisfy her ambition. And I'm prepared to stand by it. All I say is, name your woman."

"Miss Olive Castlemaine."

The man who had taken no part in the conversation spoke this time, and as the name escaped his lips both Purvis and Sprague gave a start. Even Leicester was silent for a moment. He looked from one to another suspiciously, then he burst out laughing.

"You've made a bold bid, Winfield," he said. "You make even me tremble.

Miss Olive Castlemaine is, so I suppose, the most sought-after heiress in London. She fulfils all my conditions, and, more than that, she has refused both Sprague and Purvis. I suppose, from what I am told, that she looked upon Sprague as a bit of a hypocrite, and Purvis as--well, not likely to have a great future."

He evidently stung both these men by his words. It was perfectly true that both of them had been refused by Miss Olive Castlemaine, it was just as true that she had been sought after by a number of other eligible marriageable men, and had refused them all.

Miss Olive Castlemaine was known to be a young lady of more than ordinary beauty, of good social standing, and, what was more, an heiress to great wealth. But she was not a society woman. Some women laughed at her because she preferred seeking to do good in the world to living the life of a b.u.t.terfly. She worked among the poor, she taught a cla.s.s of ragged children, and she was known to have strong opinions both about men and things. She had taken a degree at St. Andrews University, she was a Girton girl, and had attained to a high position there. Without being a "blue stocking" she was a cultured woman, and was acquainted with the language and literature of more than one country. But, more than all, she had caused many society women to raise their eyebrows at the mention of her name, because she was, to use their expression, "pious." She belonged to no set, and was rarely seen at receptions. She loved London because it was the centre of English life--life intellectual, political, religious: but society functions had no attractions for her. Some had called her a female prig, but few regarded her as such--she was too healthy-minded, too natural, too real.

Her mother had died when she was quite a child, and thus she became the one earthly delight and pride of her father, who was managing director of, and chief shareholder in, one of the most prosperous and respectable firms in London. She lived with her father in one of those fine old houses, surrounded by a large tract of park-lands, a few of which yet remain within the precincts of Larger London, in spite of the ravages of the speculative builder.

She was at the time of the commencement of this history about twenty-three years of age. She was a perfectly womanly woman. She hated much of the foolish flippancy which characterised many of the women she knew, and had a healthy disgust for those who talked lightly about not being bound by those great social inst.i.tutions which lie at the basis of our national greatness and purity. Nevertheless, she dared to think for herself, and had an almost masculine way of defending her opinions.

Being the only child of John Castlemaine, who occupied not only a high position in the City of London, but owned more than one fine estate in England, she had all that money could buy, while her father's integrity and honourable reputation made her the envy of those who, socially, would regard her as an inferior. For John Castlemaine, while bearing a name known in English history, and possessed of great wealth, was still a member of what is called the "middle cla.s.ses." He simply stood high up in his own cla.s.s. He was not of those who mingled freely with the men who guide the destinies of the nation. Rich men came to his house, men great in the world of finance; but men great in the world of politics and science and letters were unknown to him. Perhaps this was his own fault, or perhaps it was because his tastes were simple and because he did not possess the qualities which would attract men of influence and power to his house. For John Castlemaine was a plain man. He belonged to the merchant cla.s.s, and he prided himself on the position he held.

As we have said, his daughter, Olive Castlemaine, had had many suitors for her hand, but she had refused them all. Among those who had been unfortunate were Harold Sprague and Herbert Purvis. They were both mediocre but respectable young men. Both had been in love with her, and both were wounded at her refusal. Perhaps this was why the mention of her name made them start as if with pain.

"Do you accept?" said Winfield.

"What do our pattern young men say?" sneered Leicester, and he looked from one to another as if awaiting their answer.

CHAPTER II

THE CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

For a minute there was a silence. In spite of the fact that Radford Leicester had instilled his own spirit into the party, there was something in his cynicism that repelled them as well as fascinated them.

They were not bad young men. Not that they had high ideals, or were filled with lofty enthusiasms. But they had been reared on conventional lines, and although neither of them would have admitted it, they were influenced by the conventions which had surrounded their lives. To them there was something sordid, something repellent, in the thought of a man coolly offering to marry any one in order that he might prove the truth of a cynical statement to which he had given utterance. Nevertheless, they longed to accept his challenge. Radford Leicester's spirit possessed them; the man's cool and confident cynicism attracted them.

The very daring of the proposal broke down their conventional ideas.

Besides, in spite of Leicester's confidence, they did not believe that his opinions were true. Especially was this true of Purvis and Sprague.

They had proposed to Miss Olive Castlemaine and had been refused. Other very eligible young men had also suffered the same fate. Was it likely, then, that Leicester, whose reputation was so peculiar, would be more fortunate than they?

More than all this, both of them felt somewhat bitter towards the woman who had refused them, and although they would not confess it even to themselves, they would rejoice if she should suffer something of the humiliation which they had felt. Such a feeling is natural to weak men.

The sting of disappointment made them eager to fasten on anything which promised them a kind of revenge. They had a feeling that Miss Castlemaine was proud of her conquests, and they would rejoice if her pride could be humbled.

"What do our pattern young men say?" repeated Leicester. He emptied his gla.s.s as he spoke, and then turned towards them. "Why, think, my dear Moody and Sankey," he went on. "You were longing to save me from the error of my ways a few minutes ago; now here is your chance. It is true I only know this young lady by sight, but I have heard of her religious proclivities. Why, she might convert me. She might s.n.a.t.c.h the brand from the burning. She is such a pattern young woman, so high-principled, so good. Besides, I am told that she belongs to the Nonconforming order of pious people. She is a Wesleyan, or an Independent, or a Presbyterian, I don't know which; but being one of them, her principles will be more p.r.o.nounced than those who belong to the worldly State Church. Here is your opportunity, not only of proving your belief in the n.o.bility of women, but of bringing me under religious influences."

He spoke quietly and composedly, yet no doubt he was influenced by the whisky he had been drinking.

"Besides," he continued, "here is your chance of proving that the woman who refused you would also refuse me. Come, now, what do you say?"

"I accept," said Purvis.

"And you, too, Sprague?"

"Miss Castlemaine would not give you a second thought."

"Then you accept my offer? Look here, if I am rejected I give a hundred pounds to--what shall we say--Guy's Hospital? While if I am accepted you give the same sum. Is it a bargain?"

"I tell you she would not look at you. If she is not already acquainted with what those who know you think about you, she would soon become acquainted, and then--well, you would be driven from the house."

"Exactly; then you agree?"

"Oh yes, if you like."

"Good; as for Winfield, his only part in the business is naming the lady. Gentlemen, I am really much obliged to you. I have not felt so interested in life for a long time. You are really benefactors. But come, now, we must go into this affair in a business-like way, and, 'pon my word, I'll have another gla.s.s in order to drink success to the enterprise."

He rang the bell and the waiter appeared.

"Four whiskies, waiter," he said.

"I don't like this," said Sprague.

"What, the whisky? I'll complain to the management."

"No, the whole business. It isn't right."

"Not right? Why, it gives me a new interest in life, man. Already my moral sentiments are being elevated. I see myself going to that Nonconformist church with a hymn-book and Bible under my arm. I even see myself a deacon, or an elder, or something of that sort. Not right, when it is having such a regenerating influence?"

"Stick to your guns, you chaps," remarked Winfield quietly, who had been the silent member of the party.

"But I must have fair play," said Leicester. "I want a fair field and no favour. All I demand is that you chaps shall hold your tongues. This conversation must not go beyond these walls. That's fair, isn't it?"

"That's nothing but just," said Winfield.

"But how are you to get an introduction?" said Sprague. "Old John Castlemaine is very particular as to whom he has at his house, and although I have consented to this business, I'll take no part in it."

"Nor I," said Purvis; "and now I come to think about it, I withdraw from it altogether."

"Except to pay your hundred pounds if I succeed," said Leicester.