“But that may be the result of drunkenness, improvidence, or—”
“My father’s income was fifty times as great as that of Donovan Brown. Do you believe that Donovan Brown is fifty times as drunken and improvident as my father was?”
“Certainly not. I do not deny that there is much in what you urge. Still, you ask me to take a rather important step.”
“Not a bit of it. I don’t ask you to subscribe to, join, or in any way pledge yourself to any society or conspiracy whatsoever. I only want your name for private mention to cowards who think Socialism right, but will not say so because they do not think it respectable. They will not be ashamed of their convictions when they learn that a baronet shares them. Socialism offers you something already, you see; a good use for your hitherto useless title.”
Sir Charles colored a little, conscious that the example of his favorite painter had influenced him more than his own conviction or the arguments of Trefusis.
“What do you think, Chester?” he said. “Will you join?”
“Erskine is already committed to the cause of liberty by his published writings,” said Trefusis. “Three of the pamphlets on that shelf contain quotations from ‘The Patriot Martyrs.’”
Erskine blushed, flattered by being quoted; an attention that had been shown him only once before, and then by a reviewer with the object of proving that the Patriot Martyrs were slovenly in their grammar.
“Come!” said Trefusis. “Shall I write to Donovan Brown that his letters have gained the cordial assent and sympathy of Sir Charles Brandon?”
“Certainly, certainly. That is, if my unknown name would be of the least interest to him.”