, isn't he?«
    She did not think that. »He speaks ... he speaks well in conversation. I
fancy he would be liked by the poor. I should doubt his being a good public
speaker. He certainly has command of his temper: that is one thing. I cannot say
whether it favours oratory. He is indefatigable. One may be sure he will not
faint by the way. He quite believes in himself. But, Mr. Austin, do you really
regard him as a serious rival?«
    Mr. Austin could not tell. No one could tell the effect of an extended
franchise. The untried venture of it depressed him. »Men have come suddenly on a
borough before now and carried it,« he said.
    »Not a borough like Bevisham?«
    He shook his head. »A fluid borough, I 'm afraid.«
    Colonel Halkett interposed: »But Ferbrass is quite sure of his district.«
    Cecilia wished to know who the man was, of the mediævally sounding name.
    »Ferbrass is an old lawyer, my dear. He comes of five generations of
lawyers, and he 's as old in the county as Grancey Lespel. Hitherto he has
always been to be counted on for marching his district to the poll like a
regiment. That 's our strength - the professions, especially lawyers.«
    »Are not a great many lawyers Liberals, papa?«
    »A great many barristers are, my dear.«
    Thereat the colonel and Mr. Austin smiled together.
    It was a new idea to Cecilia that Nevil Beauchamp should be considered by a
man of the world anything but a well-meaning, moderately ridiculous young
candidate; and the fact that one so experienced as Seymour Austin deemed him an
adversary to be grappled with in earnest, created a small revolution in her
mind, entirely altering her view of the probable pliability of his Radicalism
under pressure of time and circumstances. Many of his remarks, that she had
previously half smiled at, came across her memory hard as metal. She began to
feel some terror of him, and said, to reassure herself: »Captain Beauchamp is
not likely to be a champion with a very large following. He is too much of a
political mystic, I think.«
    »Many young men are, before they have written out a fair copy of their
meaning,« said Mr. Austin.
    Cecilia laughed to herself at the vision of the fiery Nevil engaged in
writing out a fair copy of his meaning. How many erasures! what foot-notes!
    The