She was gone, disappearing through a winding path amongst the bushes which he had never noticed. He heard the trailing of her skirts; the air around him was empty save for a breath of the perfume shaken from her gown, and the song of the bird. Then he heard her call to him. "This way, Mr. Maraton--just a little to your left. The path leads right out on to the lawn." "Is it a maze?" he asked. "A very ordinary one," she called back gaily. "Follow me and I will lead you out." CHAPTER XIII Mr. Foley and Lord Armley were waiting together in the library--not the smaller apartment into which Julia had been shown, but a more spacious, almost a stately room in the front part of the house. Upon Maraton's entrance, Lord Armley changed his position, sitting further back amongst the shadows in a low easy-chair. Maraton took his place so that he was between the two men. It was Lord Armley who asked the first question. "Mr. Maraton," he enquired, "are you an Englishman?" "I think that I may call myself so," Maraton replied, with a smile. "I was born in America, but my parents were English." "I asked," Lord Armley continued, "whether you were an Englishman, for two reasons. One was--well, perhaps you might call it curiosity; the other because, if you are an Englishman, Mr. Foley and I are going to make a strong and I hope successful appeal to your patriotism." "I am afraid," Maraton replied, "that you will be appealing to a sentiment of which I am ignorant." "Do you mean," Mr. Foley asked, "that you have no impulse of affection for your own country?" "For my country as she exists at present, none at all," Maraton answered. "That is where I am afraid we shall find this conference so unsatisfactory. I am not subject to any of the ordinary convictions of life." "That certainly makes the task of arguing with you a little difficult," Mr. Foley admitted. "We had hoped that the vision of this country overrun by a triumphant enemy, our towns and our pleasant places in the hands of an alien race, our women subject to insults from them, our men treated with scorn--we had an idea that the vision of these things might count with you for something." "For nothing at all," Maraton replied. "I am not sure that a successful invasion of this country would not be one of the best medicines she could possibly have." "Are you serious, sir?" Lord Armley asked grimly. "Absolutely," Maraton answered, without a second's hesitation. "You people have, after all, only an external feeling for the deficiencies of your social system. You don't feel, really--you don't understand. To me, England at the present day--the whole of civilization, indeed, but we are speaking now only of England--is suffering from an awful disease. To me she is like a leper. I cannot think that any operation which could cure her is too severe. She may have to spend centuries in the hospital, but some day the light will come."