Mr Milburn, as the fight went on, had shown
himself so increasingly bitter, to the point of writing
letters in the Mercury attacking Wallingham and the
Liberal leaders of South Fox, that his daughter felt an
insurmountable delicacy in attending even Lorne's "big
meeting." Alfred Hesketh meant to have gone, but it was
ten by the Milburns' drawing-room clock before he
remembered. Miss Filkin actually did go, and brought home
a great report of it. Miss Filkin would no more have
missed a Minister than she would a bishop; but she was
the only one.
Lorne had prepared for this occasion for a long time. It
was certain to come, the day of the supreme effort, when
he should make his final appeal under the most favourable
circumstances that could be devised, when the harassing
work of the campaign would be behind him, and nothing
would remain but the luxury of one last strenuous call
to arms. The glory of that anticipation had been with
him from the beginning; and in the beginning he saw his
great moment only in one character. For weeks, while he
plodded through the details of the benefits South Fox
had received and might expect to receive at the hands of
the Liberal party, he privately stored argument on
argument, piled phrase on phrase, still further to advance
and defend the imperial unity of his vision on this
certain and special opportunity.
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