Chippinge Borough by Stanley J. Weyman — Read

It was the evening of the day on which the meeting between Arthur Vaughan and Mr. Pybus had taken place, and from the thirty-six windows in the front of Stapylton lights shone on the dusky glades of the park; here, twinkling fairy-like over the long slope of sward that shimmered pale-green as with the ghostly reflection of dead daylight, there, shining boldly upon the clump of beeches that topped an eminence with blackness. Vaughan sat beside Isaac White in the carriage which Sir Robert had sent for him; and looking curiously forth on the demesne which would be his if he lived, he could scarcely believe his eyes. Was the old squire so sure of victory that he already illuminated his windows? Or was the house, long sparely inhabited, and opened only at rare intervals and to dull and formal parties, full now from attic to hall? Election or no election, it seemed unlikely. Yet every window, yes, every window had its light!

He was too proud to question the agent who, his errand done, and his message delivered, showed no desire to talk. More than once, indeed, in the course of their short companionship, Vaughan had caught White looking at him strangely; with something like pity in his eyes. And though the young man was far from letting this distress him-probably White, with his inborn reverence for Sir Robert, despaired of all who fell under his displeasure-it closed his lips and hardened his heart. He was no paid servant; but a kinsman and the heir. And he would have Sir Robert remember this. For his own part, he was not going to forget who he was; that a Chancellor had stooped to flatter him and a Cabinet Minister had offered him a seat. He had refused for a point of honour a bait which few would have refused; and he was not going to be browbeaten by an old gentleman whom the world had out-paced, and whose beliefs, whose prejudices, whose views, were of yesterday. Who, in his profound ignorance of present conditions, would plunge England into civil war rather than resign a privilege as obsolete as ship-money, and as illegal as the Dispensing Power.