Our Lady's voice had a resentful note as she reverted to the issues of the time, as in the Chancellor's terms, she voiced his horror at the fall of gold.
"A standard of gold set in the tides of trade? A beautiful image," said Brand, thoughtfully. "But, dear me, how it condemns poor Ulster! The tide is an age-long ebb of falling prices. So is the standard changed to a cross, and the debtor hangs there."
"I don't understand," cried Margaret, affrighted.
"Neither did the Jews. The cross was of timber once. Do you remember? and He who suffered, expressly said, 'they know not what they do.' The Jews were priests then, now they are bankers, brokers of money, usurers, capitalists of Ulster's party. And the cross is changed to gold where mankind hangs crucified. 'They know not what they do.'"
"Oh, this is blasphemy!"
"May I not even speak of the cross—I, the bearer of that cross?"
Our Lady looked at his clear eyes, and was ashamed. Then trying to defend her cause—
"My Chancellor came to me," she cried.
"It is not then the crucified who cried to the Queen for help? Oh, may I plead for them?"
So gravely, sorrowfully he spoke for the men who labour on the land, who face the dangers of the air, who sweat in the deep pits, who drive the machines in the factories—for all the great labouring nation.