The Veiled Man by Ambrose Pratt — Read

Lord Cawthorne took upon himself the work of attempting to canvass the shareholders not resident in Stayton, and happily won his cousin's consent to the enterprise. He spent a month in London, a week in Paris, and a day or two at several English inland towns. Altogether he was absent for more than seven weeks; but though he travelled far and wide, and expended much eloquence and energy, he only succeeded in convincing an almost insignificant minority to his views. Curiously enough, those who yielded to his arguments most readily were of the lower middle class; either retired business people, not all of whose savings were invested in the company, or kind-hearted widows, who cheerfully consented to have their small incomes reduced in order to benefit those poorer than themselves; and again, in some cases, snobs who could refuse nothing to a lord. The richer shareholders, with scarcely an exception, declined to treat the Earl's proposal seriously. They considered him in private a cross between a crank and a socialist, and laughed the great purpose to scorn. He returned to Stayton, therefore, in a despondent mood, and with a poorer opinion of human nature than when he had set out. He had corresponded regularly with Lady Dorothy in the meanwhile by means of brief business-like letters, to which she replied with a formality that sometimes reduced him to despair. The girl, however, received him with much more warmth than he had hoped for. During his absence her father had joined the cause, and of all the people she had visited only one, Maud Franklyn's father, had withstood her methods of attack. Nor had she quite resigned all hope of winning him. She felt that she could afford to be kind under the circumstances, and Cawthorne found her charmingly sympathetic and consoling. But for all that, his suit did not progress. Dorothy took pains in a thousand subtle ways to make him understand that if she liked him as a friend and partner, she would not tolerate him as a lover. And for the next month, although they saw each other almost every day, their intercourse and conversation were perfectly impersonal.

Sir Felix Greig was unwittingly responsible for a change in their relations. The old baronet had been at first content to smile at the "great purpose" as an Utopian ideal, unworthy the consideration of practical men of the world. He believed that it would die a natural death of its own accord without his interference, and in consequence he merely opposed Cawthorne and his niece with sneers. But as time passed he viewed with secret misgivings the increasing number of Dorothy's proselytes; and at length he determined to take action. It must not be supposed that Sir Felix was an uncharitable man on that account. His heart was just as susceptible to kindly emotions as that of any living, and his purse had always responded to an urgent call.