'Not the old Cross. That is gone; but, of course, I cannot stand there without in thought going back to Edward I. and his queen. In its place is a brazen statue of Charles I. And in fact, when I stand there the winds seem to sweep down upon me from many a mountain peak of history. Edward and his rugged greatness, and Charles and his weak folly; and the Protectorate, and the Restoration. For here, where the statue stands, stood once the gallows where Harrison and his companions were executed, when "the king had his own again." Sometimes I can hardly see the present, when I am there, for looking at the past.'
'You are enthusiastic,' said Miss Frere. 'But I understand it. Yes, that is not like New York; not much!'
'What became of the Cross, Pitt?'
'Pulled down, mother—like everything else in its day.'
'Who pulled it down?'
'The Republicans.'
'The Republicans! Yes, it was like them!' said Mrs. Dallas. 'Rebellion, dissent, and a want of feeling for whatever is noble and refined, all go together. That was the Puritans!'
'Pretty strong!' said Pitt. 'And not quite fair either, is it? How much feeling for what is noble and refined was there in the court of the second Charles?—and how much of either, if you look below the surface, was in the policy or the character of the first Charles?'
'He did not destroy pictures and pull down statues,' said Mrs. Dallas.
'He was at least a gentleman. But the Puritans were a low set, always.
I cannot forgive them for the work they did in England.'
'You may thank heaven for some of the work they did. But for them, you would not be here to-day in a land of freedom.'