Tyson had not married in order to improve his social position; he had

married because he was in love as he had never been in love before. He

would have married a barmaid, if necessary, for the same reason. He was

not long in finding out that he owed his unpopularity in a great measure

to his marriage. To the curious observer this consciousness of his

mistake was conspicuous in his manner. (It was to be hoped that his wife

was not a curious observer.) And Sir Peter made matters no better by

going about declaring that Mrs. Nevill Tyson was the loveliest woman in

Leicestershire, when everybody knew that his wife had flatly refused to

call on her. By this time Tyson was quite aware that his standing in the

county had depended all along on the support which the Morleys were

pleased to give him. They had taken him up in the beginning, and his

position had seemed secure. If at that ripe moment he had chosen to

strengthen it by a marriage with Lady Morley's dearest friend, he might

have been anything he pleased. Miss Batchelor of Meriden would have

proved a still more powerful ally than Sir Peter. She would have been as

ambitious for him as he could have been for himself. By joining the

estates of Thorneytoft and Meriden, Nevill Tyson, Esquire, would have

become one of the largest land-owners in Leicestershire, when in all

probability he would have known the joy of representing his county in

Parliament. He was born for life on a large scale, a life of excitement

and action; and there were times when a political career presented itself

to his maturer fancy as the end and crown of existence. All this might

have been open to him if he had chosen; if, for instance, this clever

man had not cherished a rooted objection to the society of clever women.

As it was, his marriage had made him the best-abused man in those parts.

Since Tyson was not to mold his country's destinies in Parliament, he

turned his attention to local politics as the next best thing, thus

satisfying his appetite for action. He did what he had told Miss

Batchelor he should do; he dissipated himself in parochial patriotism.

He went to and fro, he presided at meetings, sat on committees, made

speeches on platforms. You would hardly have thought that one parish

could have contained so much fiery energy. Moreover, he found a field

for his journalistic talents in a passionate correspondence in the local

papers. Tyson could speak, Tyson could write, where other men maunder and

drivel. His tongue was tipped with fire and his pen with vitriol. Looking

about him for a worthy antagonist, he singled out Smedley, M.D., a local

practitioner given over to two ideals--sanitation and reform. Needless to

say, for sanitation and reform Tyson cared not a hang. It was a stand-up

fight between the man of facts and the man of letters. Smedley was solid

and imperturbable; he stood firm on his facts, and defended himself with

figures. Tyson, a master of literary strategy, was alert and ubiquitous.

Having driven Smedley into a tangled maze of controversy, Tyson pursued

him with genial irony. When Smedley argued, Tyson riddled his arguments

with the lightest of light banter; when Smedley hung back, Tyson lured

him on with some artful feint; when Smedley thrust, Tyson dodged.

Finally, when Smedley, so to speak, drew up all his facts and figures in

the form of a hollow square, Tyson charged with magnificent contempt of

danger. No doubt Tyson's method was extremely amusing and effective, and

his sparkling periods proved the enemy's dullness up to the hilt;

unfortunately, the prosy but responsible representations of Smedley had

more weight with committees.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024