"It is true, Dacre," he said, laying his hand affectionately on his friend's shoulder. "I thought of the words of that scroll to-night when I saw you interested in that girl with the beautiful eyes, who sat beside you."
"Why think of these words?"
"Because she was a commoner's daughter, Dacre; but none the less a noble English girl, fit match for any aristocrat in Europe."
"Doubtless," answered Dacre, calmly, looking at the silver hilt of the old sword.
"You have met Miss Lincoln before to-day? Yes—Miss Windsor told me so."
"Yes; I have seen her several times at Arundel House."
"Her father is a good man, Dacre. How will he regard our revolution?"
"As we regarded his, no doubt—as a crime."
"God!" thought Geoffrey, pacing the floor, "how strange that two men so noble as these should look upon each other as traitors and enemies!"
"Were it not for Richard Lincoln the Monarchy would have been restored ten years ago. He is a powerful supporter of his class," said Dacre, slowly.