And yet Time hath his revolutions; there
must be a period and an end to all temporal things--finis rerum--an
end of names and dignities and whatsoever is terrene; and why not of
De Vere? For where is Bohun? where is Mowbray? where is Mortimer?
nay, which is more and most of all, where is Plantagenet? They are
entombed in the urns and sepulchres of mortality!' And, as it was of
that ancient day of Crewe and the De Vere so must it be of us and Mr.
Croker. He goes; we stay; and so let us drink to all." Here Lemon
filled his glass, and the rest having amiably followed his example,
offered with a wicked twinkle, "The disappearance of Mr. Croker!"
* * * * *
"What I regret in the business," remarked Fatfloat as he put down his
glass, "is the ill fortune of Mr. Nixon. There is much of good honesty
about that gentleman; he is high-minded and proud; I cannot but
sympathize with him in his present plight."
"And yet," observed Enfield, mildly, "Mr. Nixon should have avoided
that trap of an empty leadership. Mr. Nixon is no stripling; he knew
Tammany and those elements of mendacity and muddy intrigue which are
called its 'control'; he knew Mr. Croker, who in these last days was
faithful to no promise and loyal to no man. Why did he permit himself
to be flattered, cozened and destroyed? Why? He added inexperience to
vanity and betrayed himself.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25