A Lost Leader | Page 3

earth, the mother, the mistress, beneficent, wonderful! You are a
creature of cities. Stay with me here for a day or two, and the joy of all
these things will steal into your blood. You, too, will know what peace
is."
Borrowdean, as though unconsciously, straightened himself. If no
colour came to his cheeks, the light of battle was at least in his eyes.

This man was speaking heresies. The words sprang to his lips.
"Peace!" he exclaimed, scornfully. "Peace is for the dead. The last
reward perhaps of a breaking heart. The life effective, militant, is the
only possible existence for men. Pull yourself together, Mannering, for
Heaven's sake. Yours is the faineant spirit of the decadent,
masquerading in the garb of a sham primitivism. Were you born into
the world, do you think, to loiter through life an idle worshipper at the
altar of beauty? Who are you to dare to skulk in the quiet places, whilst
the battle of life is fought by others?"
Another lark had risen almost from their feet, and, circling its way
upwards, was breaking into song. And below, the full spring tide was
filling the pools and creeks with the softly flowing, glimmering
sea-water. The fishing boats, high and dry an hour ago, were passing
now seaward along the silvery way. All these things Mannering was
watching with rapt eyes, even whilst he listened to his companion.
"Dear friend," he said, "the world can get on very well without me, and
I have no need of the world. The battle that you speak of--well, I have
been in the fray, as you know. The memory of it is still a nightmare to
me."
Borrowdean had the appearance of a man who sought to put a restraint
upon his words. He was silent for a moment, and then he spoke very
deliberately.
"Mannering," he said, "do not think me wholly unsympathetic. There is
a side of me which sympathises deeply with every word which you
have said. And there is another which forces me to remind you again,
and again, that we men were never born to linger in the lotos lands of
the world. You do not stand for yourself alone. You exist as a unit of
humanity. Think of your responsibilities. You have found for yourself a
beautiful corner of the world. That is all very well for you, but how
about the rest? How about the millions who are chained to the cities
that they may earn their living pittance, whose wives and children fill
the churchyards, the echoes of whose weary, never-ceasing cry must
reach you even here? They are the people, the sufferers, fellow-links

with you in the chain of humanity. You may stand aloof as you will,
but you can never cut yourself wholly away from the great family of
your fellows. You may hide from your responsibilities, but the burden
of them will lie heavy upon your conscience, the poison will penetrate
sometimes into your most jealously guarded paradise. We are of the
people's party, you and I, Mannering, and I tell you that the tocsin has
sounded. We need you!"
A shadow had fallen upon Mannering's face. Borrowdean was in
earnest, and his appeal was scarcely one to be treated lightly.
Nevertheless, Mannering showed no sign of faltering, though his tone
was certainly graver.
"Leslie," he said, "you speak like a prophet, but believe me, my mind is
made up. I have taken root here. Such work as I can do from my study
is, as it always has been, at your service. But I myself have finished
with actual political life. Don't press me too hard. I must seem churlish
and ungrateful, but if I listened to you for hours the result would be the
same. I have finished with actual political life."
Borrowdean shrugged his shoulders despairingly. Such a man was hard
to deal with.
"Mannering," he protested, "you must not, you really must not, send me
away like this. You speak of your written work. Don't think that I
underestimate it because I have not alluded to it before. I myself
honestly believe that it was those wonderful articles of yours in the
Nineteenth Century which brought back to a reasonable frame of mind
thousands who were half led away by the glamour of this new
campaign. You kindled the torch, my friend, and you must bear it to
victory. You bring me to my last resource. If you will not serve under
Rochester, come back--and Rochester will serve under you when the
time comes."
Mannering shook his head slowly.
"I wish I could convince you," he said, "once and for all, that my
refusal springs from no such reasons as you seem to imagine. I would

sooner sit here, with a volume of Pater