Part 54 (2/2)

”But we must circulate this pamphlet of the Polish Count on the manner of encountering cavalry with pikes,” said Maclast.

”'Tis printed,” said the stout thickset man; ”we have set it up on a broadside. We have sent ten thousand to the north and five thousand to John Frost. We shall have another delivery tomorrow. It takes very generally.”

The pale young man read the draft of the proclamation; it was canva.s.sed and criticised sentence by sentence; altered, approved: finally put to the vote, and unanimously carried. On the morrow it was to be posted in every thoroughfare of the metropolis, and circulated in every great city of the provinces and populous district of labour.

”And now,” said Gerard, ”I shall to-morrow to the north, where I am wanted. But before I go I propose, as suggested yesterday, that we five together with Langley, whom I counted on seeing here to-night, now form ourselves into a committee for arming the people. Three of us are permanent in London; Wilkins and myself will aid you in the provinces.

Nothing can be decided on this head till we see Langley, who will make a communication from Birmingham that cannot be trusted to writing. The seven o'clock train must have long since arrived. He is now a good hour behind his time.”

”I hear foot-steps,” said Maclast.

”He comes,” said Gerard.

The door of the chamber opened and a woman entered. Pale, agitated, exhausted, she advanced to them in the glimmering light.

”What is this?” said several of the council.

”Sybil!” exclaimed the astonished Gerard, and he rose from his seat.

She caught the arm of her father, and leant on him for a moment in silence. Then looking up with an expression that seemed to indicate she was rallying her last energies, she said, in a voice low yet so distinct that it reached the ear of all present, ”There is not an instant to lose: fly!”

The men rose hastily from their seats; they approached the messenger of danger; Gerard waved them off, for he perceived his daughter was sinking. Gently he placed her in his chair; she was sensible, for she grasped his arm, and she murmured--still she murmured--”fly!”

”'Tis very strange,” said Maclast.

”I feel queer!” said the thickset man.

”Methinks she looks like a heavenly messenger,” said Wilkins. ”I had no idea that earth had anything so fair,” said the youthful scribe of proclamations.

”Hush friends!” said Gerard: and then he bent over Sybil and said in a low soothing voice, ”Tell me, my child, what is it?”

She looked up to her father; a glance as it were of devotion and despair: her lips moved, but they refused their office and expressed no words. There was a deep silence in the room.

”She is gone,” said her father.

”Water,” said the young man, and he hurried away to obtain some.

”I feel queer,” said his thickset colleague to Maclast.

”I will answer for Langley as for myself.” said Maclast; ”and there is not another human being aware of our purpose.”

”Except Morley.”

”Yes: except Morley. But I should as soon doubt Gerard as Stephen Morley.”

”Certainly.”

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