In sight of the crowd she bids her mother a courteous and tender farewell, for Speranza has elected to drive straight to Montragee House, there to await her child’s return. A brilliant mounted throng await the former’s coming; many well-known faces are there, amongst which Gloria catches sight of those of Lady Manderton and Launcelot Trevor.
Now she has mounted her milk-white charger Saladin, and with Evie Ravensdale and Nigel Estcourt on her right, and Flora Desmond and Archie Douglasdale on her left, is riding slowly forward. In close attendance behind are Rita Vernon and Léonie Stanley. The latter’s eyes are busy in the crowd, and seem to search the ranks forward as they ride along. The brilliant throng of mounted friends close in, the cheering of the crowd is deafening; it will be one long loud roar until the Hall of Liberty is reached.
The way is kept by the Women’s Volunteer Regiments, and the order is perfect. As Gloria and Flora ride along, they catch glimpses of old, tried, true, and trusty friends among the ranks—friends who in time of trouble stood by them, and laboured lovingly to make easier the rugged path which they were then treading.
It is a soul-inspiring sight. Many of the people have brought flowers with them, and as the procession approaches they cast them loosely in the air, out of which they descend in a shower of many colours to carpet the way, along which Gloria must pass, with their bright and variegated bloom. The strains of the White Guards’ band, the glitter of their white-and-gold uniforms, the loud cheering of the enthusiastic crowds as the brilliant cavalcade moves along, is a sight which the onlooker is not likely to forget. It thrills the hearts of that vast woman world, assembled to do honour to the one who has worked for and who has won their emancipation.
One long triumphal march. One uninterrupted scene of unchecked enthusiasm is the welcome accorded her from the Docks to the Hall of Liberty. The sun is shining on the gilded statues and million panes which crown that wondrous structure, as she approaches the building which her genius conceived and raised,—approaches it, no longer as the hunted felon upon whose head the price of gold is set, but as a free woman, a victorious general who has conquered the demon armies of Monopoly and Selfishness, and thrown open to the people the free gates of happiness and reform. Now through the giant portals she rides once more. Great God! what a burst of welcome, and what a scene! From floor to ceiling the monster building is crammed. Every available space has been occupied; there is not a foot of standing room.
She has uncovered, and they see her face as she rides round the circular ride towards the huge platform,—the same face of exquisite beauty which they remember and know so well. As she dismounts, she is received by the chairman of the committee appointed to carry out the day’s proceedings, and to present the people’s address of welcome, to which thousands of representative names from every county have been attached.
On the platform are gathered every member of the Ministry and every D’Estrangeite Member of Parliament. Truly a royal welcome by staunch and faithful friends; for as Gloria dismounts and steps upon the platform she is greeted with a loud long cheer by these men of generous mould, who have fought so nobly on behalf of her holy cause. All honour be to them for ever!
Sir Arthur Hazlerigg, Lord Mayor of London, presents and reads the address of welcome, and as he concludes it, Gloria de Lara stands forward to reply. An intense silence falls. All are eager to hear again a voice which they had believed to be for ever stilled in death.
“My friends,” she begins, and though the voice has all the clear, ringing sweetness of yore, there is undoubtedly a tremor in it, “it would require a special language, one of which we have yet no knowledge, to convey to you the emotions which this scene of magnificent welcome awakens within me. From the bottom of my heart I thank you for it, as well as all those true and gallant friends who have created this glorious day; for next to God it is the people who have created it. In this welcome which you give to me, the humble and all too unworthy representative of a magnificent cause, the great principle of human freedom is at length recognised, that freedom inherited at birth, and only wrung from individuals by oppression and wrong. Human freedom means the right to take part in the creation of laws for the better government and perfection of man; it means that man and woman are born equal, are created to work hand in hand for the greater happiness of mankind. Hitherto this principle of mighty truth has not been recognised, with the awful results shown forth in man’s ever-increasing degradation. By the acknowledgment of this principle you have laid the train which, when fired, will put an end to immorality and social wrongs, which will make evil unpleasant to perform, and which will degrade the performer to the position of a leper, the shunned and outcast of Society, loathed and despised by his fellow-men. By the acknowledgment of this principle, a day of darkness has sunk to rise no more, and one of brightness, and promise, and fair hope has arisen to cheer us along the glorious path of reform. Much there is to be done, mountains of prejudice, and selfishness, and greed yet to be faced and conquered; but the army which the acknowledgment of human freedom has raised, is an army which will fight victoriously to the end; for it is an army in which men and women will do battle side by side and shoulder to shoulder, undeterred by class jealousies or the odious assumption of superiority by one sex over another. My friends, as I stand to-day in this Hall of Liberty and look upon this magnificent scene, memories rise up before me of a stirring and eventful past. I see before me now, a picture which in childhood I loved to imagine, a glorious reality which in the past haunted my waking dreams. On many incidents of that past I would prefer not to dwell, arousing, as they must, the bitterness of human nature. Rather is the province of the conqueror, of the victorious to forgive and forget, to look forward to the future, and strive for the possibilities which that future may contain. We are starting along a new path in life, a path open to all, not monopolised by the few, a path which, as time goes on, shall show traces of victory on all sides. I ask the great army of my countrymen to endeavour to win those victories as speedily as possible, so that in the future, the day may dawn when there shall be no misery, no wickedness, no crime. In that army, women now find a place; let them triumphantly prove their right to be there. They have yet an uphill road to climb, but I have confidence that they will compass it, and now that the gates of freedom are thrown open to them, take part in all the great deeds of the world. Upon them the eyes of this world will be fixed; upon them depends the ultimate freedom of the human race. I have no fear as to the result; I do not for one moment dread the trial. I believe, moreover, that the presence and natural companionship of woman will upraise and influence man’s character for good, banishing from his daily life those coarser habits which self-indulgence and lack of moral influence have allowed to creep therein, and that Society, in its remodelled state, will thus be enabled to deal with the evils which infest it. My friends, I need detain you no longer. On my arrival in this country I was informed that my old constituency had re-elected me as its member. I rejoice to hear that I have several women fellow-members in the Legislature to whom men, generous and noble-hearted men, have relinquished places. To tell you that the remainder of my life, which God has so mercifully spared to me, will be employed in working for the people, in devoting every energy I possess to their advancement, is the sum of my declaration here to-day. Rest assured that for them, no one will struggle harder than Gloria de Lara.”
A simple speech, a quiet, honest declaration. Though she stands there, the cynosure of all eyes, there is no vanity or conceit in those few simple words. Gloria’s aim is unveiled. It is the upraising and triumph of humanity. She lives but to work on its behalf.