at the time was exaggeration, their dry political quality was so
distinctly not what one was accustomed to regard as schoolgirl
reading. Miss Gamer protested to protect her, "When once in a blue
moon Isabel is well-behaved…!"
Except for these attacks I do not remember much of the conversation
at table; it was, I know, discursive and concerned with the sort of
topographical and social and electioneering fact natural to such a
visit. Old Rivers struck me as a delightful person, modestly
unconscious of his doubly-earned V. C. and the plucky defence of
Kardin-Bergat that won his baronetcy. He was that excellent type,
the soldier radical, and we began that day a friendship that was
only ended by his death in the hunting-field three years later. He
interested Margaret into a disregard of my plate and the fact that I
had secured the illegal indulgence of Moselle. After lunch we went
for coffee into another low room, this time brown panelled and
looking through French windows on a red-walled garden, graceful even
in its winter desolation. And there the conversation suddenly
picked up and became good. It had fallen to a pause, and the
doctor, with an air of definitely throwing off a mask and wrecking
an established tranquillity, remarked: "Very probably you Liberals
will come in, though I'm not sure you'll come in so mightily as you
think, but what you do when you do come in passes my comprehension."
"There's good work sometimes," said Sir Graham, "in undoing."
"You can't govern a great empire by amending and repealing the Acts
of your predecessors," said the doctor.
There came that kind of pause that happens when a subject is
broached too big and difficult for the gathering. Margaret's blue
eyes regarded the speaker with quiet disapproval for a moment, and
then came to me in the not too confident hope that I would snub him
out of existence with some prompt rhetorical stroke. A voice spoke
out of the big arm-chair.
"We'll do things," said Isabel.
The doctor's eye lit with the joy of the fisherman who strikes his
fish at last. "What will you do?" he asked her.
"Every one knows we're a mixed lot," said Isabel.
"Poor old chaps like me!" interjected the general.
"But that's not a programme," said the doctor.
"But Mr. Remington has published a programme," said Isabel.
The doctor cocked half an eye at me.
"In some review," the girl went on. "After all, we're not going to
elect the whole Liberal party in the Kinghamstead Division. I'm a
Remington-ite!"
"But the programme," said the doctor, "the programme-"
"In front of Mr. Remington!"
"Scandal always comes home at last," said the doctor. "Let him hear
the worst."
"I'd like to hear," I said. "Electioneering shatters convictions
and enfeebles the mind."
"Not mine," said Isabel stoutly. "I mean-Well, anyhow I take it
Mr. Remington stands for constructing a civilised state out of this
muddle."
"THIS muddle," protested the doctor with an appeal of the eye to the
beautiful long room and the ordered garden outside the bright clean
windows.
"Well, THAT muddle, if you like! There's a slum within a mile of us
already. The dust and blacks get worse and worse, Sissie?"
"They do," agreed Miss Gamer.
"Mr. Remington stands for construction, order, education, discipline."
"And you?" said the doctor.
"Discipline!" said the doctor.
"Oh!" said Isabel. "At times one has to be-Napoleonic. They want
to libel me, Mr. Remington. A political worker can't always be in
time for meals, can she? At times one has to make-splendid cuts."
Miss Gamer said something indistinctly.
"Order, education, discipline," said Sir Graham. "Excellent things!
But I've a sort of memory-in my young days-we talked about
something called liberty."
"Liberty under the law," I said, with an unexpected approving murmur
from Margaret, and took up the defence. "The old Liberal definition
of liberty was a trifle uncritical. Privilege and legal
restrictions are not the only enemies of liberty. An uneducated,
underbred, and underfed propertyless man is a man who has lost the
possibility of liberty. There's no liberty worth a rap for him. A
man who is swimming hopelessly for life wants nothing but the
liberty to get out of the water; he'll give every other liberty for
it-until he gets out."
Sir Graham took me up and we fell into a discussion of the changing
qualities of Liberalism. It was a good give-and-take talk,
extraordinarily refreshing after the nonsense and crowding secondary
issues of the electioneering outside. We all contributed more or
less except Miss Gamer; Margaret followed with knitted brows and
occasional interjections. "People won't SEE that," for example, and
"It all seems so plain to me." The doctor showed himself clever but
unsubstantial and inconsistent. Isabel sat back with her black mop
of hair buried deep in the chair looking quickly from face to face.
Her colour came and went with her vivid intellectual excitement;
occasionally she would dart a word, usually a very apt word, like a
lizard's tongue into the discussion. I remember chiefly that a
chance illustration betrayed that she had read Bishop Burnet…
After that it was not surprising that Isabel should ask for a lift
in our car as far as the Lurky Committee Room, and that she should
offer me quite sound advice EN ROUTE upon the intellectual
temperament of the Lurky gasworkers.
On the third occasion that I saw Isabel she was, as I have said,
climbing a tree-and a very creditable tree-for her own private
satisfaction. It was a lapse from the high seriousness of politics,
and I perceived she felt that I might regard it as such and attach
too much importance to it. I had some difficulty in reassuring her.
And it's odd to note now-it has never occurred to me before-that
from that day to this I do not think I have ever reminded Isabel of
that encounter.
And after that memory she seems to be flickering about always in the
election, an inextinguishable flame; now she flew by on her bicycle,
now she dashed into committee rooms, now she appeared on doorsteps
in animated conversation with dubious voters; I took every chance I
could to talk to her-I had never met anything like her before in
the world, and she interested me immensely-and before the polling
day she and I had become, in the frankest simplicity, fast
friends…
That, I think, sets out very fairly the facts of our early