* * * * *

Meanwhile the new member himself was in no melting mood.

Forbes was right.  Marsham, in his room, looking over the letters which his servant had brought him, was only conscious of two feelings—­disgust and loathing with regard to the contest just over, and a dogged determination with regard to the future.  He had been deserted by the moderates—­by the Ferrierites—­in spite of all his endeavors to keep within courteous and judicial bounds; and he had been all but sacrificed to a forbearance which had not saved him apparently a single moderate vote, and had lost him scores on the advanced side.

With regard to Ferrier personally, he was extremely sore, A letter from him during the preceding week would certainly have influenced votes.  Marsham denied hotly that his speeches had been of a character to offend or injure his old friend and leader.  A man must really be allowed some honest latitude of opinion, even under party government!—­and in circumstances of personal obligation.  He had had to steer a most difficult course.  But why must he give up his principles—­not to speak of his chances of political advancement—­because John Ferrier had originally procured him his seat in Parliament, and had been his parents’ intimate friend for many years?  Let the Whig deserters answer that question, if they could!

His whole being was tingling with anger and resentment.  The contest had steeped him in humiliations which stuck to him like mud-stains.

The week before, he had written to Ferrier, imploring him if possible to come and speak for him—­or at least to write a letter; humbling his pride; and giving elaborate explanations of the line which he had taken.

There, on the table beside him, was Ferrier’s reply: 

“My Dear Oliver,—­I don’t think a letter would do you much good, and for a speech, I am too tired—­and I am afraid at the present moment too thin-skinned.  Pray excuse me.  We shall meet when this hubbub is over.  All success to you.

     “Yours ever, J.F.”

Was there ever a more ungracious, a more uncalled-for, letter?  Well, at any rate, he was free henceforward to think and act for himself, and on public grounds only; though of course he would do nothing unworthy of an old friendship, or calculated to hurt his mother’s feelings.  Ferrier, by this letter, and by the strong negative influence he must have exerted in West Brookshire during the election, had himself loosened the old bond; and Marsham would henceforth stand on his own feet.

As to Ferrier’s reasons for a course of action so wholly unlike any he had ever yet taken in the case of Lucy Marsham’s son, Oliver’s thoughts found themselves engaged in a sore and perpetual wrangle.  Ferrier, he supposed, suspected him of a lack of “straightness”; and did not care to maintain an intimate relation, which had been already, and might be again, used against him.  Marsham, on his side, recalled with discomfort various small incidents in the House of Commons which might have seemed—­to an enemy—­to illustrate or confirm such an explanation of the state of things.