ent
before the election." Mr Scruby shrugged his shoulders, and said
that he would do his best. But George Vavasor soon knew that the
man was not doing his best,--that the man had, in truth, abandoned
his cause. The landlord of the "Handsome Man" jeered him when he
went there canvassing. "Laws, Mr Vavasor!" said the landlord of
the "Handsome Man," "you're not at all the fellow for us chaps
along the river,--you ain't. You're afraid to come down with the
stumpy,--that's what you are." George put his hand upon his purse,
and acknowledged to himself that he had been afraid to come down with
the stumpy.

For the last five days of the affair George Vavasor knew that his
chance was gone. Mr Scruby's face, manner, and words, told the result
of the election as plainly as any subsequent figures could do. He
would be absent when Vavasor called, or the clerk would say that he
was absent. He would answer in very few words, constantly shrugging
his shoulders. He would even go away and leave the anxious candidate
while he was in the middle of some discussion as to his plans. It was
easy to see that Mr Scruby no longer regarded him as a successful
man, and the day of the poll showed very plainly how right Mr Scruby
had been.

George Vavasor was rejected, but he still had his five hundred pounds
in his pocket. Of course he was subject to that mortification which a
man feels when he reflects that some little additional outlay would
have secured his object. Whether it might have been so, or not, who
can say? But there he was, with the gateway between the lamps barred
against him, ex-Member of Parliament for the Chelsea Districts, with
five hundred pounds in his pocket, and little or nothing else that he
could call his own. What was he to do with himself?

After trying to make himself heard upon the hustings when he was
rejected, and pledging himself to stand again at the next election,
he went home to his lodgings in Cecil Street, and endeavoured
to consider calmly his position in the world. He had lost his
inheritance. He had abandoned one profession after another, and was
now beyond the pale of another chance in that direction. His ambition
had betrayed him, and there were no longer possible to him any hopes
of political activity. He had estranged from himself every friend
that he had ever possessed. He had driven from him with violence the
devotion even of his sister. He had robbed the girl whom he intended
to marry of her money,