III

The spell that held them broke, and the bustle began. A mumble filled the room, followed by moments of animated discussion. Neighbor spoke to neighbor in terms of approval or plied him with questions menacing and entreating. Anderson maintained his composure to allow them to settle again into a period of quietude before the administration of the oath. At length Stephen arose as if to question, and was given permission to speak by the chairman, Mr. Anderson.

"What immunity does His Majesty's Government guarantee to us after the war?"

"The usual guarantee will of course be made," Anderson replied.

"Does that mean that we shall be reëstablished in the good-will of our fellow-citizens?" Stephen again inquired.

"Unquestionably. When the colonists see the immense benefits which they have acquired, they will readily condone all wrongs."

Intense interest was already manifest throughout the room. Faces were eagerly bent forward lest a word be lost.

"Such considerations, however, are irrelevant to our purpose," dismissed Anderson with a wave of the hand.

"But it is of vital consequence to us. We must return to our people to live with them, and we cannot live in an atmosphere of hatred. Who knows that our lives may not be placed in jeopardy! My question deals with this. Will any provision be made against such a contingency?"

"It is too early to discuss the final settlement, but you have my assurance that suitable protection will be given."

"Your assurance?" repeated Stephen. "What amount of assurance may you offer to us, you who admittedly are one of ourselves?"

"I consider that an impertinent question, sir, and in no way connected with the business before us."

"It is of vital concern to us, I should say; and I for one am desirous of knowing more about this affair before yielding my consent."

"You have signed your papers of enlistment already, I believe. There is no further course then for you to pursue."

There was a rustle among the seats. Some had begun to realize their fate; some had realized it from the start but were powerless to prevent it. Two or three faces turned a shade paler, and they became profoundly silent. The others, too, held their tongues to await the result of the controversy. For here was a matter of vital concern to all. Up to now very few deserters, especially among the Catholics, had been discovered among the American forces. They had heard of an individual or two surrendering himself to the enemy, or of whole families going over to the other side in order to retain their possessions and lands. But a mutiny was another matter altogether. What if they failed and the Colonists gained their independence!

"I suppose we are powerless," admitted Stephen in a low tone of voice as he watched the effect of his words on the gathering. "We are confronted," he continued, "with the dilemma of estrangement no matter what side gains."

"England can't lose," interrupted Colonel Clifton, who heretofore had been seated, an attentive observer. "And with victory comes the establishment of the will of the conqueror. Care will be taken that there shall be adequate reparation."

"Very good!" answered Stephen. "Now together with that privilege of immunity, can we be assured of the extension of the Quebec Act? Has England so decreed?"

"Not yet," Anderson admitted, "but that extension, or one equal to it, will be made one of the conditions of peace."

"We are sure of that, then?"

"Well, we are not sure, but it is only logical to infer such a condescension will be made."

"I don't agree with you, I am sorry to say, for the English Parliament may be of another mind when peace and victory have been established."

"You are interrupting the meeting. Please let us continue with our business," Anderson sharply reproved him.

"I speak for my fellow-citizens here," said Stephen as he turned toward them with an appealing gesture, "and I maintain that it is our privilege to know certain matters before we transfer our allegiance."

It was now plain to the company that Anderson was worried. His white thin lips were firmly compressed as the wrath in his heart blazed within him. He was aghast at the blow. It had come from a quarter wholly unexpected. That this fellow in these shabby clothes should be gifted with a freedom of speech such as to confound him when he thought his plans realized to the letter, was astounding. Why, he might sway the minds of the entire assembly! Better to silence him at once, or better still banish him from the hall than to cope with the possibility of losing the entire multitude.

"You have interrupted this meeting more than I care to have you, sir. If you will kindly allow me to proceed with the business before the house I shall consider it a favor."

"I ask my fellow-citizens here," shouted Stephen by way of reply, "if you or any man possesses the right to deprive us of free speech, especially at a time as momentous as this. I ask you, my friends, if I may continue?"

"Yes!... Go on!... We will hear you!..." were the several acclamations from the throng.

Anderson heard it with perceptible confusion. He fumbled nervously with his fingers, wholly ignorant of what to say.

"Let me ask, then," said Stephen, "if the idea of independence is wholly exclusive of religious toleration. Why are we, a mere handful of men, about to pledge ourselves to the accomplishment by force of arms what already is accomplished in our very midst? Freedom of religious worship is already assured. The several actions of the colonial governing bodies lend us that assurance. England can do no more for us than already has been done; and what has been done by the Colonies will be guaranteed by the elective body of the people in the days of independence. I am fearful of the hazards that will accompany this enlistment. Give me leave to address you on this topic that you may understand my troubled state of mind. I appeal to you. Give me leave to talk."

Whether it was the spontaneous sound issuing from the ranks of those already initiated into the secret, or whether a chord already attuned in the hearts and minds of the entire assembly, had been marvelously struck by him, there was a reverberation of approval throughout the room in answer to Stephen's plea. So unanimous was the demonstration that Anderson took alarm. The air of democracy was revealing itself in their instinctive enthusiasm. And while nothing might result from Stephen's rambling remarks, still it would afford them consolation that their side of the question had been aired. To a man they voiced their approval of the privilege which had been begged.

"Aye!... Speech!... Take the floor!"


CHAPTER VIII