own the
foot of dignity last year, he could now hold out the hand of expediency
with a very good grace.

So he took his money, and went down, and before he had been in Vanebury
six hours the Conservatives there understood that they had a very strong
candidate, who would give a good account of himself, and who deserved to
be worked for.

His personal presence was imposing, Sydney was above the middle height,
erect and broad-shouldered, with a keen and handsome, rather florid,
face, a firm mouth, and penetrating steel-blue eyes. He was careful of
his appearance, too, and from his well-cut clothes and his well-trimmed
brown hair, beard, and whiskers, it was easy to see that there was
nothing of the slipshod about this ambitious young emissary from the
Oligarchy Club.

In manner he was very persuasive. He had a frank and easy way of
addressing an audience, which he had picked up from a popular
tribune--leaning one shoulder towards them at an angle of about eighty
degrees, and rounding his periods with a confidential smile, which
seemed to assure his hearers that they were as far above the average
audience as he was above the average candidate. He did not feel the
slightest difficulty in talking for an hour at a stretch, and two or
three times on the same day; and, indeed, it would have been strange if
he had, considering his Union experience at Cambridge and his practice
at the Bar.

Sydney won upon all classes at Vanebury, and the sporting gentlemen in
that thriving borough were soon giving odds upon his chance of success.
The Liberals were for the most part careless and over-confident. Their
man had won every election for twenty years past, and they could not
believe that this Tory lawyer was destined to accomplish what all the
local magnates had failed in attempting. But a few of the wisest amongst
them shook their heads, for they knew too well that "Tourmaline the
Traitor and Turncoat" (as the posters described him) was by no means
alone in his discontent with the tendencies of the party.

The attention of the country was fixed upon the Vanebury election, and
Sydney Campion had become at once the observed of all observers. He knew
it, and made the most of the situation, insisting in his speeches that
this was a test-election, which would show what the country thought of
the government, of its bribes to ignorance and its capitulation to
rebellion, of its sacrifice of our honor abroad and our interests at
home. He