Gloriana; or, the revolution of 1900

by Lady Florence Dixie

But he is awakened from his dream at the call of duty. The division is being taken at last, and all wait in breathless expectation for the result.

“The Content’s have it!” By a majority of 107 the peers obey the country’s mandate, and acknowledge the people’s will as law. Gloria has triumphed. That which she predicted is realised, the vow which she made is accomplished. Ah! in this moment of victory, who would not wish her here, instead of in the cold arms of death?

Of death? Silence is being called for, and Lord Estcourt is endeavouring to make himself heard. He is successful at last.

“I wish to explain to the House,” he begins, “why I was not in my place when my noble friend began his speech. My excuse will be acceptable to this House, I feel sure. The fact is, I received a telegram containing startling intelligence, so startling that I conceived it to be a hoax. I took steps to ascertain the truth, and am satisfied of the authenticity of the first intelligence. I have to announce to your lordships the glorious news that Gloria de Lara is not dead. By God’s almighty goodness she is alive—alive to witness the triumph of her cause. Truly indeed you may exclaim with me in accepting this wonderful intelligence, it is God’s will—it is the hand of God.”

CHAPTER VIII.

“Gloria de Lara lives!” The words have rung far and wide o’er land and distant sea. They have entered the homes of the great, the cottages of the poor, they have brought joy to millions of weary hearts, who know that while that great name breathes the breath of life, reform cannot die.

Yes, Gloria lives, lives! But how? Have we not seen her in the clutch of Death?

We left her therein. We left her being borne down by the resistless, sucking whirlpool of the sinking smack as the massive trading steamer, which had cut clean through the frail barque, bore on its course. As she parted her hold of Léonie, Gloria had clutched the sinking wreck with that strong and tenacious grip which the drowning alone can command. The lighter and severed portion of the wreck had been swept forward by an enormous wave, which carried with it likewise the body of Léonie, supported on the crest of the sea by the life-belt, which Gloria had tied around her.

But the bright, flashing light which had danced in Gloria’s eyes ere she was borne downwards, had searched from stem to stern the helpless, storm-tossed craft, and the anxious gaze of the man on the look out had been able to detect those two frail human forms. As the shout of “Boat ahoy!” had rung out through the shrieking storm, the steamer had crashed through her frail antagonist in the manner already described. But the skipper of The Maid of Glad Tidings, as such the steamer was named, was brave and humane. In spite of the storm he had skilfully brought his vessel to the rescue. The electric light had swept the sea in search of the unlucky boat, and after a time a portion of her had been sighted, a helpless and dismantled wreck. Yet to that wreck a human form was clinging.