“Traitors, traitors, did you say? The word is well-chosen, but one which heretofore has never been used in the Land of On. Traitors to those who sent you! Would you then rather be traitors to the King than to the people? Which is the greater sin, if you would call obedience to your King a sin, which is the greater sin to be traitor to the people or to the King, which you have sworn to love, cherish and obey? Come, man, can you answer?”
“Quickly,” said the leader, “for as I have said, it is not now the King which commands us, but that evil one within. If it were the King, he would say, ‘Take these people who have made your King sin; take these people who have called the great God’s vengeance down on us, because we harbored them; take them and show them no mercy, for they stole upon us like thieves in the night; and when we clothed and fed them, when we made them honored guests, giving them every comfort and luxury which the Land of On knows, even taking them into the most sacred sanctuary, making them special guests of the King, thinking that he alone was fitted to entertain them, when we did all this for them, they repaid us by making our King sin, and bringing God’s wrath upon us. Take these and kill them, for they have betrayed our confidence.’ This is what the true, noble King, the great Onrai would say to his people if it were he talking to us. Oh King, we pity you, for we do believe that even now you suffer, when you see the people, whom you have learned to love through their machinations, going to their death. But the people have settled the matter, having first given it just consideration and they know that it is best that the cause of your sin and the land’s suffering should be put out of the way, for if they remain, even if you no longer fell under their spell, the land or people would no longer be safe. We know that you are suffering for these strangers; these traitors are making you suffer, because they would have you intercede for them, but when the spell is broken, when you are no longer in the power of this subtle Circe, you will thank your people for thus delivering you.”
“I look at you now and wonder if this be the happy, care and superstition-free people, whom I have known for so long and I am almost persuaded to believe that you are not; that I have been transported in some unknown way in my sleeping to another world, where the people have never known what happiness, contentment and lack of all superstition is; where the people are governed by the most imaginative fantasies of the brain; where common sense and reason play no part in their decisions or judgment. No, you are not the strong, mighty people that I once knew, and yet you are the same. I know you all, every face is familiar to me, but that is all. The solid mind has wandered, leaving in its place nothing, or worse than nothing—superstition. That you believe in your own ignorance that you are now right and that you are following the dictates of sensible minds can easily be seen and your decision is as much as could be expected from such miserable beings, as would be swayed by superstition. Oh, where are the noble minds which once dominated over those bodies? Have they gone beyond recall? Have they been so outraged by these miserable superstitions that they have gone forever? Will not sense, and reason and justice break the flimsy wall of these superstitions and place the right mind again in possession? Oh, men of little brain, why will you insult me by still calling me King?” And as Onrai finished he turned his back on them as if their presence was hateful to him; as if their stolid gaze would contaminate him.
The leader stepped forward again and motioned the men back. Mr. Graham and his companions watched these proceedings with renewed hope, but Onrai did not even turn to see what they were doing. His strong nature and nobleness of mind would no longer allow of his suing for mercy, even for the sick girl, whose life meant so much to him.
He had first plead; then he called on them as men; then he had commanded them as King, and all had been useless; they had still stared at him with that set look which would indicate that their decision was so irrevocable that nothing, not even positive proof of this decision being wrong, would make them change it. Then he had used contempt, he had belittled their manhood, their intellect, and unwittingly he had made an impression; an impression surely, but whether a good or bad one could not yet be said, for the men had taken a position at the edge of the park and were now in conference.
Mr. Bruce had slipped into the sick chamber and had looked at Enola. She was now resting quietly; her breathing being regular, her temperature being almost normal. Mrs. Graham and Nellie were sitting near her, and the women attendants were gathered in a group in one end of the apartment, conversing in low whispers.
“Mr. Bruce,” asked Nellie, “what is that great body of men doing outside; are they here to congratulate the King and his party upon their escape from the storm?”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Bruce, and he tried to smile. “They came as a delegation from the people of the city to express their heartfelt thankfulness for our escape; and also sympathy for Enola’s suffering.”
“But they were here last night,” said Nellie, “and still remain. I cannot see why they should do so.”
“They are waiting for further news of Enola’s condition, and when this is learned they will depart for the upper part of the country, where they are bound to repair the devastations of the storm;” answered Mr. Bruce; but as he spoke, Mrs. Graham had walked to the curtained arch and parting the hangings, said: