The other smiled. "My wits are sound," he said, "as sound as they were upon that day when I gave my voice for the death (a sad necessity!) of this young man's father. And I do not think to shake England,—I speak of Virginia."
"Of Virginia!"
"Yea, of this goodly land, a garden spot, a new earth where should be planted the seeds of a mighty nation, strong in justice and simple right, wise, temperate, brave; an enlightened people, serving God in spirit and in truth, not with the slavish observance of prelatist and papist, nor with the indecent familiarity of the Independent; loyal to their governors, but exercising the God-given right of choosing those who are to rule over them: a people amongst whom liberty shall walk unveiled, and to whom Astrœa shall come again; a people as free as the eagle I watched this morning, soaring higher and ever higher, strongly and proudly, rejoicing in its progress heavenward."
"In other words, a republic," said Landless dryly.
"Why not?" answered the other with shining, unseeing eyes. "It is a dream we dreamed ten years ago, I and Vane and Sidney and Marten and many others,—but Oliver rudely wakened us. Then it was by the banks of the Thames, and it was for England. Now, on the shores of Chesapeake I dream again, and it is for Virginia. You smile!"
"Have you considered, sir,—I do not know your name."
"Robert Godwyn is my name."
"Have you considered, Master Godwyn, that the Virginians do not want a republic, that they are more royalist and prelatical than are their brethren at home; that they out-Herod Herod in their fantastic loyalty?"
"That is true of the class with whom you have come into contact,—of the masters. But there is much disaffection among the people at large. And there are the Nonconformists, the Presbyterians, Independents, Baptists, even the Quakers, though they say they fight not. To them all, Charles Stuart is the Pharaoh whose heart the Lord hardened, and William Berkeley is his task-master."
"Any one else?"