The Kings Men | Page 5

the
demagogues on the other, and they think the only choice lies between
the two."
"Surely, papa," said Mary, who was interested in the conversation, "the
people will not be so easily deceived?"
"Deceived!" interrupted Mr. Patterson. "Why, Mary, here was an
election in which the people were led to vote against one of the best
Republicans in England, and for a lord who is nearly seventy, who has
never done any good for himself or the country--an old pauper, who
goes to Parliament for the salary and the chance to plot against the
people."
Mary looked at her father as if she wished him to speak.
"These men," he said, "do not regain power as lords, but as commoners.
That is good, instead of bad--their withdrawal would be more
dangerous. We must remember that those who have lost by the
revolution are still as much a part of the English people as those who
have gained."
"I don't know about that," said Patterson, stubbornly. "I believe those
aristocrats are actually plotting treason; and a traitor separates himself
from his people."
Richard Lincoln's silence only stirred up the old Radical. He shot home
next time.
"I believe we shall have a lord returned for Nottingham next election."
A slow flush rose in Lincoln's face, and he unconsciously raised his
head.
"For the last two years," continued Patterson, seeing the effect of his

words, "only two Englishmen have been heard of to any extent--the
demagogue leader, Bagshaw, and Sir John Dacre, the insolent young
leader of the aristocrats."
This time it was the daughter that flushed at Mr. Patterson's words.
"Mr. Dacre is not insolent," said Mary, warmly. "I have met him
several times. He is a most remarkable man."
"He couldn't well be insolent to you, Mary," the wily Patterson
answered, with a smile for his favorite, who usually agreed with his
radicalism, "but his tone to the public is a different thing."
"You extremists are at least responsible for one of these--for the
demagogue--" said Richard Lincoln.
"Yes; I admit it. The election of Bagshaw for Liverpool was a terrible
mistake. But, if we had had our way, the other evil should have lost its
head--O, I beg your pardon, Mary; I did not mean your friend, Mr.
Dacre, but the principle he represents."
Mary Lincoln had exclaimed as if shocked, which brought out the
concluding words from Mr. Patterson.
"If one were gone, would not the danger be greater?" asked Richard
Lincoln. "They keep each other in check. They are useful enemies."
"Take care they don't some day turn round and be useful friends,"
retorted Patterson. "I believe they did so in Derby yesterday. If they
were to do it in Nottingham they would sweep the city."
Mr. Patterson had scored his mark. The ex-Minister was silent and
thoughtful.
"The Republic is like an iceberg," he said presently, "a dozen years
above water, but a century below. We shall be able to handle our
difficulties--Don't you think so, Mary?" he added lightly, as they went
out.

"Papa," said Mary, as they walked across the main street, "I met Sir
John Dacre at Arundel House when I was visiting Lucy Arundel last
year, and I can assure you he is not an evil-minded man."
"Indeed!" answered the father, rather amused at the relation; "you like
him, then?"
"Very much, indeed. He is a perfect old-fashioned cavalier, and the
most distinguished-looking man I ever saw, except you."
Her father laughed at the unconscious flattery.
"And the very oldest men are constantly consulting him," continued
Mary, who was on a subject which evidently interested her.
There was something in Mary's voice that made her father glance down
at her face. But he did not pursue the subject.
The months rolled on in this unrestful peace, and day by day it grew
clear that the internal troubles of the Republic were forming a
dangerous congestion.
Richard Lincoln again became an attentive reader of the newspapers.
No man in England studied more carefully the signs of the times. Daily,
too, he listened to the denunciation of the aristocrats by his radical old
friend.
"They ought to be banished!" exclaimed Mr. Patterson, one morning. "I
said it would come to this."
He pointed to an announcement of a meeting of "gentlemen who still
retained respect for their Sacred Cause," to be held at Arundel House
the following week, the wording of which was rather vague, as if
intended to convey more than the verbal meaning. The notice was
signed: "John Dacre, Bart."
"Why, that is Mary's friend," thought Richard Lincoln. And when he
met Mary, an hour later, he said, half-jestingly:

"Is your friend, Mr. Dacre, a conspirator?"
"He is only an acquaintance, papa; and I hardly know what a
conspirator is. But Mr. Dacre is certainly