"He may," said I.
"He will," said he: "England will rise to his support; wait, you will see."
He turned off from me, but turned again to ask after the Misses Chambers, then left me to rejoin his friends.
When I mentioned his words the next day at Swandale, Langler said to me: "but since this man is so very sure beforehand of the Prime Minister's victory, may we not at once look for some stroke of policy against the Church on his part—perhaps the showing of the miracles to be none?"
"In that case, Aubrey," said I, for I was excited, "let us be beforehand with him! let both of us now write plainly to our friends that the miracles are probably none, but still are no contrivance of priests——"
But Langler interrupted me, saying: "you would hardly have us, Arthur, appear to our friends in the light of crusaders and quixotes."
"Why quixotes?" said I.
"Wouldn't it be terribly like springing upon them the statement, 'the sky is brown'? The miracles are now among established things, nor are our suspicions anything but suspicions. Certainly, we should seem pert, if not irrelevant. Letters are perused over the breakfast-cup, and are not expected to be epic."
"However," said I, "this is the one plan which you can carry out without fear of being interfered with and hindered, and by it you wash your hands at once of the whole business and burden."
"Perhaps; but still, frankly, it would not be quite to my taste: I'd rather die than seem outré, or strutting, or oracular——"