When Edward had told me all that had happened, and a great deal of what he hoped would happen, he became rather pensive.
"Do you know," he said, "I believe this is the last night I may sleep in my own peaceful home, which, for all its drawbacks of wealth and ease, is still very dear to me. It may be weeks, or even years, before I may come back to it."
"Why do you think that?" I asked.
"To-morrow we demonstrate. We march through the streets of Culbut with banners. I shall be at the head of the procession, with others, of course, but at any rate in a prominent position. I shall be a marked man."
Legitimate pride in the thought of this distinction seemed to be struggling in Edward's mind with the melancholy that was fast stealing over him. He paused, and then added with a sigh: "Very likely I shall be arrested."
"Oh, well," I said, "if you put your head in the lion's mouth you must be prepared for his biting. I wish to goodness you would take it out before it is too late—for the sake of your family, if not for your own."
But Edward would not do that; he said that he must go on with his work, wherever it led him. The only encouragement I could give him was that they would probably treat his as a political offence, for which they would only imprison him in the first division, in which, as he had once assured me, they would give him plenty of manual labour, and feed him chiefly on bread and water.
This cheered him somewhat, and he left me to prepare himself for the morrow.