"And when the West is roused, what is it to do? Stretch itself, and lie down to sleep again?"
"Nothing of the kind. Tonie. I do not mind confiding to you that we expect a revolution. It is not possible to endure what is threatened. The country will—it must—rise, or will lose its right to be considered a free and Protestant country." Mr. Crymes waited, but, as his son said nothing, he continued. "The Duke of Monmouth is in the Low Countries, and is meditating an invasion. The Dutch will assist; he is coming with a fleet, and several companies levied in Holland, and we must be organised and ready with our bands to rise as soon as he sets foot in England."
"Not I," said Fox. "If you, father, venture your neck and bowels for Monmouth and the Protestant cause, I content myself with tossing up my cap for King James. Monmouth's name is James as well as his Majesty's, so my cap will not compromise me with either; and, father, I only toss up my cap—I will not risk my neck or bowels for either by drawing sword."
"You are a selfish, unprincipled rogue," said Mr. Crymes. "You have neither regard for your country nor ambition for yourself."
"As for my country, I can best care for it by protecting such a worthy member of it as myself, and my ambition lies in other lines than political disturbance. I have not heard that either side got much, but rather lost, by taking parts in the Great Rebellion, whether for the Parliament or for the King. The only folk who gained were such as put their hands in their pockets and looked on."
"By the Lord!" exclaimed the old gentleman, "I am sorry that I have such a son, without enthusiasm, and care for aught save himself. I tell you the Earl of Bedford secretly inclines to the cause of Monmouth, and has urged me to come down here and stir the people up. Now, when his Lordship——"
"Exactly," scoffed Fox. "Exactly as I thought, he keeps safe and throws all the risk on you. Nothing could so induce me to caution as the example of the Earl of Bedford."
In the meantime, Bessie, at the dance, was in some uneasiness. She had missed Urith when she went out of the house, and, after her return, noticed that her face was clouded, and that she was short of speech. Bessie took Urith's hand in her lap and caressed it. She did not fully understand what was distressing her sister-in-law. At first she supposed it was annoyance at her failure in dancing, but soon perceived that the cause was other. Urith no longer responded to her caresses, and Bessie, looking anxiously into her dark face and following the direction of her eyes, discovered that the conduct of Anthony was the occasion of Urith's displeasure. Anthony was not engaged to Julian for every dance, but he singled her out and got her as his partner whenever he could, and it was apparent that she took no pleasure in dancing with anyone else; she either feigned weariness to excuse her acceptance of another partner, or danced with him without zest, and with an abstracted mind that left her speechless.
Bessie Cleverdon, the last person in the room to think hardly of another, the most ready to excuse the conduct of another, was hard put to it to justify her brother's conduct. He did not come to his wife between the dances, treating her with indifference equal to a slight, and he lavished his attentions on Julian Crymes in a manner that provoked comment.
"They are old friends, have known each other since they were children, have been like cousins, almost as brother and sister," said Bessie, when she felt Urith's hand clench and harden within her own as Anthony and Julian passed them by without notice, engrossed in each other.