CHAPTER VII
It was the dining-room of the house wherein the four men sat in earnest consultation; and now that they were alone, their faces were grave to solemnity.
The oak-ceiled and wainscoted room was filled with lurking shadows in the far corners, where the light from the candles did not penetrate; and the inside shutters of stout oak were closed and bolted over the one great window, along which ran a deep cushioned seat.
Joseph Devereux sat by the mahogany table, whose black polish reflected the lights, mirror-like, and—but more dully—the yellow brass of the candlesticks. His elbow was resting upon the smooth wood, his hand supporting his head; and in the light of the candle burning near, his face looked unusually stern.
His son sat opposite, his face mostly in shadow, as he lay back in his chair and thrummed the table with his slender brown fingers.
At either side sat Nicholson Broughton and Hugh Knollys, the former looking stern and troubled as he smoked his long pipe, while the younger man's face held but little of its usual light-hearted expression. His hands were thrust deep in his breeches' pockets, and he whistled softly now and then in an absent-minded way.
"Aye, 't is a grave state of affairs, Broughton," Joseph Devereux was saying. "I love not oppression, nor tyrannical dealing. And yet, think you that ever was a petty tyrant overthrown, and the instruments of his punishment could always escape a pricking o' the conscience, that made it not easy for them to look back upon their own share in his downfall? Shall the time come, I wonder, when we must question the truth o' this inspiration we are now acting under as a town and as a country?"
"Nay, say I,—never!" exclaimed Broughton, with fiery ardor. "Being human, we must all feel sympathy for suffering, be it in enemy or friend. But our land is lost, and we nothing better than slaves, did we longer submit to the tyranny of the mother country. As God bade Moses of old lead the children of Israel from the bondage and cruel injustice of Pharaoh, so we should feel that He now bids us, as men with a country, and as fathers with families to cherish and protect, to rise up and assert our manhood, and to assure our freedom, even though it be by as fierce a war as ever was waged."
"And war there's bound to be!" It was Hugh Knollys who said this, and he seemed to look more cheery at the thought.