"Certainly; that is just what I mean."
"But look at America--the happiest, richest, most orderly and yet the most populous country in the world."
"I speak of Republicanism in England, not in America."
"But where is the difference?" persisted Geoffrey. "If the universal suffrage of the people be virtue in America, how can it be vice in England?"
"As the food of one life may be the poison of another," answered Dacre.
"Human society has many forms, and all may be good, but each must be specially protected by its own public morality. England was reared into greatness and flourished in greatness for twenty hundred years on one unvarying order. America has developed under another order, a different but not a better one."
"That may be, but in less than two hundred years America has reached a point of wealth, order and peace that England has never approached in two thousand."
"America," continued Dacre, "had nothing to unlearn. Her people had no royal traditions--we have no democratic ones."
"There is something in that," said Geoffrey.
"There is everything in it. The Americans are true to their past, while we are false to ours. We are trampling on the glorious name and fame of our country. We are recreant to our position, intelligence, to our fathers" memories--or we shall be if we do not--"
"Do not what?" asked Geoffrey, as Dacre paused.
"If we do not unite and have another revolution!" answered Dacre, slowly and firmly.
There was a slight sound outside the room, which made Geoffrey raise his eyes and glance toward the window; but Dacre, now aflame with his subject, stood before him and arrested his look.
"Ripon, do you think that the n.o.bles, the gentlemen of England, have lain down like submissive creatures to this atrocious revolt? Do you think nothing has been done?"
"In Heaven"s name, what can be done?" asked Geoffrey.
"What did the Anarchists do when they wanted power?" asked Dacre fiercely. "They banded together in secret. They swore to be true to each other to the death. They armed and drilled and prepared their plans.
They watched every avenue, and took advantage of every mistake of ours.
They inflamed the ma.s.ses against the Royal Family, the Court, the House of Peers, the landed aristocracy, and when their hour of opportunity came they raised the cry of revolution, and the government was changed in a day."
"Well?"
"Well!--we have learned their lesson. What they did we shall do. We have banded ourselves together. What is that?"
A noise like a creaking door had struck Dacre"s ear, and he stopped.
Geoffrey had heard it, too, and instantly jumped up and walked into the kitchen. Reynolds was not there; but Geoffrey heard him at work in another room. He returned smiling.
"Either an owl or a ghost, Dacre," he said, looking out on the field.
"There is not a soul but old Reynolds within two miles of this place."
Dacre continued to pace the room, and as he walked he said in a low voice:
"I have said too much, or not enough, Ripon. Shall I proceed?"
"By all means, proceed."
"But you understand--you see the consequence? You know enough to know whether or not you want to hear more."
Geoffrey was silent, and sat looking at the fire. He was moved by Dacre"s words; but he was not filled with any new resolution. At last he raised his eyes and was about to speak. Dacre was regarding him intently, and now came and bent toward him.
"Come with us, Ripon," he said earnestly, dropping each sentence slowly.
"We want you. You are needed. It is your duty."
"I am not sure, Dacre, about that," answered Geoffrey, looking at his friend.
Dacre drew back, with a flush on his pale face.
"I am not sure of that," continued Geoffrey, unheeding the movement; "but I am sure of you, John Dacre, and I am ready to take your word for it, even when you tell me what is my duty. I am sure that if the gentlemen of England are in a league of your founding, or of your choice, they are banded for no dishonor, but for some n.o.ble purpose; and if you want me I am ready."
Dacre"s mouth quivered as he grasped the hand his friend held out to him. Then he took another turn across the room.
"Now, go on with your talk," said Geoffrey. "If there is any oath, propose it."
"None for you," said Dacre.
"Thanks."
Dacre then unfolded the plan of the revolution which would restore the House of Hanover, the House of Peers, the t.i.tles, and all the old order of aristocratic cla.s.sification which nearly twenty years before England had put behind her. He wanted to see Geoffrey an actual leader, knowing the qualities of the man; and to show him the position clearly he laid the whole scheme bare. It was a terrible enterprise, but on the whole not so formidable as a score of revolutions that have succeeded in Europe since the end of the nineteenth century.
"You say you will begin with the army?" asked Geoffrey. "How many regiments have you?"
"We have eleven colonels in England to-day," answered Dacre, "and six of these will be with their regiments at Aldershot on the day of the revolution."
"How are their men? Are the subalterns with them? and can they carry the soldiers?"
"Many of the subalterns are not with them; but there are some exceptions. When the Royal banner is raised and the King proclaimed, depend on it the common people will respond."
"How many men of note will be at Aldershot on that day?" asked Geoffrey.
"Here is a rough plan of the rising and a list of the gentlemen, which Colonel Arundel has drawn up," said Dacre, and he took from an inner pocket a paper containing about forty names, which he handed to Geoffrey, who glanced at it rapidly, recognizing nearly all the names, though he knew few of their owners. Half a score of dukes and earls and marquises headed the list, including old Bayswater and the unfortunate Royal Duke who had chosen to remain in England in poverty rather than share the King"s exile in America. Lower down on the list were the names of simple gentlemen like Featherstone and Sydney.
While Geoffrey was looking at the scroll, Dacre had taken up the old sword and read the faded inscription tied to the hilt. Geoffrey saw him and smiled, as he laid the list on the table.
"It is true, Dacre," he said, laying his hand affectionately on his friend"s shoulder. "I thought of the words of that scroll to-night when I saw you interested in that girl with the beautiful eyes, who sat beside you."
"Why think of these words?"
"Because she was a commoner"s daughter, Dacre; but none the less a n.o.ble English girl, fit match for any aristocrat in Europe."
"Doubtless," answered Dacre, calmly, looking at the silver hilt of the old sword.
"You have met Miss Lincoln before to-day? Yes--Miss Windsor told me so."
"Yes; I have seen her several times at Arundel House."
"Her father is a good man, Dacre. How will he regard our revolution?"