Book 4 Chapter 9
Morley paused as he recognised Egremont; then advancing to Gerard,followed by his companion, he said, "This is Mr Hatton of whom we werespeaking last night, and who claims to be an ancient acquaintance ofyours."
"Perhaps I should rather say of your poor dear father," said Hatton,scanning Gerard with his clear blue eye, and then he added, "He wasof great service to me in my youth, and one is not apt to forget suchthings."
"One ought not," said Gerard: "but it is a sort of memory, as I haveunderstood, that is rather rare. For my part I remember you verywell, Baptist Hatton," said Gerard, examining his guest with almost ascomplete a scrutiny as he had himself experienced. "This world has gonewell with you, I am glad to hear and see."
"Qui laborat, orat," said Hatton in a silvery voice, "is the graciousmaxim of our Holy Church; and I venture to believe my prayers and vigilshave been accepted, for I have laboured in my time," and as he wasspeaking these words, he turned and addressed them to Sybil.
She beheld him with no little interest; this mysterious name that hadsounded so often in her young ears, and was associated with so manystrange and high hopes, and some dark blending of doubt and apprehensionand discordant thoughts. Hatton in his appearance realised little of thefancies in which Sybil had sometime indulged with regard to him. Thatappearance was prepossessing: a frank and even benevolent expressionplayed upon his intelligent and handsome countenance: his once richbrown hair, still long though very thin, was so arranged as naturallyto conceal his baldness; he was dressed with great simplicity, but withremarkable taste and care: nor did the repose and suavity of his mannerand the hushed tone of his voice detract from the favourable effect thathe always at once produced.
"Qui laborat, orat," said Sybil with a smile, "is the privilege of thepeople."
"Of whom I am one," said Hatton bowing, well recollecting that he wasaddressing the daughter of a chartist delegate.
"But is your labour, their labour," said Sybil. "Is yours that life ofuncomplaining toil wherein there is so much of beauty and of goodness,that by the fine maxim of our Church, it is held to include the forceand efficacy of prayer?"
"I am sure that I should complain of no toil that would benefit you,"said Hatton and then addressing himself again to Gerard, he led himto a distant part of the room where they were soon engaged in earnestconverse. Morley at the same moment approached Sybil, and spoke to herin a subdued tone. Egremont feeling embarrassed advanced, and bade herfarewell. She rose and returned his salute with some ceremony; thenhesitating while a soft expression came over her countenance, she heldforth her hand, which he retained for a moment, and withdrew.
"I was with him more than an hour," continued Morley. "At first herecollected nothing: even the name of Gerard, though he received it asfamiliar to him, seemed to produce little impression he recollectednothing of any papers; was clear that they must have been quiteinsignificant; whatever they were, he doubtless had them now, as henever destroyed papers: would order a search to be made for them, andso on. I was about to withdraw, when he asked me carelessly a questionabout your father; what he was doing, and whether he were married andhad children. This led to a very long conversation in which he suddenlyseemed to take great interest. At first he talked of writing to see yourfather, and I offered that Gerard should call upon him. He took downyour direction in order that he might write to your father and give himan appointment; when observing that it was Westminster, he said thathis carriage was ordered to go to the House of Lords in a quarter of anhour, and that if not inconvenient to me, he would propose that I shouldat once accompany him. I thought, whatever might be the result, itmust be a satisfaction to Gerard at last to see this man of whom he hastalked and thought so much--and so we are here."
"You did well, good Stephen, as you always do," said Sybil with a musingand abstracted air; "no one has so much forethought and so much energyas you."
He threw a glance at her: and immediately withdrew it. Their eyes hadmet: hers were kind and calm.
"And this Egremont," said Morley rather hurriedly and abruptly, andlooking on the ground, "how came he here? When we discovered himyesterday your father and myself agreed that we should not mention toyou the--the mystification of which we had been dupes."
"And you did wrong," said Sybil. "There is no wisdom like frankness. Hadyou told me, he would not have been here today. He met and addressed me,and I only recognised an acquaintance who had once contributed so muchto the pleasantness of our life. Had he not accompanied me to this doorand met my father, which precipitated an explanation on his part whichhe found had not been given by others, I might have remained in anignorance which hereafter might have produced inconvenience."
"You are right," said Morley, looking at her rather keenly. "We have allof us opened ourselves too unreservedly before this aristocrat."
"I should hope that none of us have said to him a word that we wish tobe forgotten," said Sybil. "He chose to wear a disguise, and can hardlyquarrel with the frankness with which we spoke of his order or hisfamily. And for the rest, he has not been injured from learningsomething of the feelings of the people by living among them."
"And yet if anything were to happen to-morrow," said Morley, "restassured this man has his eye on us. He can walk into the governmentoffices like themselves and tell his tale, for though one of thepseudo-opposition, the moment the people move, the factions becomeunited."
Sybil turned and looked at him, and then said, "And what could happento-morrow, that we should care for the government being acquainted withit or us? Do not they know everything? Do not you meet in their verysight? You pursue an avowed and legal aim by legal means--do you not?What then is there to fear? And why should anything happen that shouldmake us apprehensive?"
"All is very well at this moment," said Morley, "and all may continuewell; but popular assemblies breed turbulent spirits, Sybil. Your fathertakes a leading part; he is a great orator, and is in his element inthis clamorous and fiery life. It does not much suit me; I am a manof the closet. This Convention, as you well know, was never much tomy taste. Their Charter is a coarse specific for our social evils. Thespirit that would cure our ills must be of a deeper and finer mood."
"Then why are you here?" said Sybil.
Morley shrugged his shoulders, and then said "An easy question.Questions are always easy. The fact is, in active life one cannot affordto refine. I could have wished the movement to have taken a differentshape and to have worked for a different end; but it has not done this.But it is still a movement and a great one, and I must work it for myend and try to shape it to my form. If I had refused to be a leader, Ishould not have prevented the movement; I should only have secured myown insignificance."
"But my father has not these fears; he is full of hope and exultation,"said Sybil. "And surely it is a great thing that the people should havetheir Parliament lawfully meeting in open day, and their delegates fromthe whole realm declaring their grievances in language which would notdisgrace the conquering race which has in vain endeavoured to degradethem. When I heard my father speak the other night, my heart glowedwith emotion my eyes were suffused with tears; I was proud to be hisdaughter; and I gloried in a race of forefathers who belonged to theoppressed and not to the oppressors."
Morley watched the deep splendour of her eye and the mantling of herradiant cheek, as she spoke these latter words with not merely animationbut fervour. Her bright hair, that hung on either side her face in longtresses of luxuriant richness, was drawn off a forehead that was thevery throne of thought and majesty, while her rich lip still quiveredwith the sensibility which expressed its impassioned truth.
"But your father, Sybil, stands alone," at length Morley replied;"surrounded by votaries who have nothing but enthusiasm to recommendthem; and by emulous and intriguing rivals, who watch every word andaction, in order that they may discredit his conduct, and ultimatelysecure his downfall."
"My father's downfall!" said Sybil. "Is he not one of themselves! And isit
possible, that among the delegates of the People there can be otherthan one and the same object?"
"A thousand," said Morley; "we have already as many parties as in StStephen's itself."
"You terrify me," said Sybil. "I knew we had fearful odds to combatagainst. My visit to this city alone has taught me how strong are ourenemies. But I believed that we had on our side God and Truth."
"They know neither of them in the National Convention," said Morley."Our career will be a vulgar caricature of the bad passions and the lowintrigues, the factions and the failures, of our oppressors."
At this moment Gerard and Hatton who were sitting in the remote partof the room rose together and advanced forward; and this movementinterrupted the conversation of Sybil and Morley. Before however herfather and his new friend could reach them, Hatton as if some pointon which he had not been sufficiently explicit, had occurred to him,stopped and placing his hand on Gerard's arm, withdrew him again,saying in a voice which could only be heard by the individual whom headdressed. "You understand--I have not the slightest doubt myself ofyour moral right: I believe on every principle of justice, that MowbrayCastle is as much yours as the house that is built by the tenant on thelord's land: but can we prove it? We never had the legal evidence.You are in error in supposing that these papers were of any vitalconsequence; mere memoranda; very useful no doubt: I hope I shall findthem; but of no validity. If money were the only difficulty, trust me,it should not be wanting; I owe much to the memory of your father, mygood Gerard; I would fain serve you--and your daughter. I'll not tellyou what I would do for you, my good Gerard. You would think me foolish;but I am alone in the world, and seeing you again, and talking of oldtimes--I really am scarcely fit for business. Go, however, I must; Ihave an appointment at the House of Lords. Good bye. I must say farewellto the Lady Sybil."