He saw the tall, commanding figure of the orator, the vast sea of upturned faces below, the eager attention imprinted on all, sometimes a wave of sympathy and approval sweeping over them, resulting in a storm of applause, at times a more divided disapproval, or a shout of "No, no," which invariably roused the speaker to a more vigorous, clear, and emphatic repetition of the questioned statement.And, through all, he was ever conscious of the young girl at his side, who, with her head bent over her notebook, was absorbed in her work.While the most vital questions of life were being discussed, he was yet always aware of that hand traveling rapidly to and fro, of the pages hurriedly turned, of the quick yet weary-looking change of posture.
Though not without a strong vein of sarca**, Raeburn's speech was, on the whole, temperate; it certainly should have been met with consideration.But, unfortunately, Mr.Randolph was incapable of seeing any good in his opponent; his combative instincts were far stronger than his Christianity, and Brian, who had winced many times while listening to the champion of atheism, was even more keenly wounded by the champion of his own cause.Abusive epithets abounded in his retort; at last he left the subject under discussion altogether, and launched into personalities of the most objectionable kind.Raeburn sat with folded arms, listening with a sort of cold dignity.He looked very different now from the genial-mannered, quiet man whom Charles Osmond had seen in his own home but an hour or two ago.There was a peculiar look in his tawny eyes hardly to be described in words, a look which was hard, and cold, and steady.It told of an originally sensitive nature inured to ill treatment; of a strong will which had long ago steeled itself to endure; of a character which, though absolutely refusing to yield to opposition, had grown slightly bitter, even slightly vindictive in the process.
Brian could only watch in silent pain the little figure beside him.
Once at some violent term of abuse she looked up, and glanced for a moment at the speaker; he just caught a swift, indignant flash from her bright eyes, then her head was bent lower than before over her notebook, and the carnation deepened in her cheek, while her pencil sped over the paper fast and furiously.Presently came a sharp retort from Raeburn, ending with the perfectly warrantable accusation that Mr.Randolph was wandering from the subject of the evening merely to indulge his personal spite.The audience was beginning to be roused by the unfairness, and a storm might have ensued had not Mr.Randolph unintentionally turned the whole proceedings from tragedy to farce.
Indignant at Raeburn's accusation, he sprung to his feet and began a vigorous protest.
"Mr.Chairman, I denounce my opponent as a liar.His accusation is utterly false.I deny the allegation, and I scorn the allegator --"He was interrupted by a shout of laughter, the whole assembly was convulsed, even Erica's anger changed to mirth.
"Fit for 'Punch,'" she whispered to Brian, her face all beaming with merriment.
Raeburn, whose grave face had also relaxed into a smile, suddenly stood up, and, with a sort of dry Scotch humor, remarked:
"My enemies have compared me to many obnoxious things, but never till tonight have I been called a crocodile.Possibly Mr.Randolph has been reading of the crocodiles recently dissected at Paris.It has been discovered that they are almost brainless, and, being without reason, are probably animated by a violent instinct of destruction.I believe, however, that the power of their 'jaw' is unsurpassed."Then, amid shouts of laughter and applause, he sat down again, leaving the field to the much discomfited Mr.Randolph.
Much harm had been done that evening to the cause of Christianity.
The sympathies of the audience could not be with the weak and unmannerly Mr.Randolph; they were Englishmen, and were, of course, inclined to side with the man who had been unjustly dealt with, who, moreover, had really spoken to them--had touched their very hearts.
The field was practically lost when, to the surprise of all, another speaker came forward.Erica, who knew that their side had had the best of it, felt a thrill of admiration when she saw Charles Osmond move slowly to the front of the platform.She was very tired, but out of a sort of gratitude for his friendliness, a readiness to do him honor, she strained her energies to take down his speech verbatim.It was not a long one, it was hardly, perhaps, to be called a speech at all, it was rather as if the man had thrown his very self into the breach made by the unhappy wrangle of the evening.
