“Lady Manderton!” Gloria can hardly believe her ears. She looks incredulously at the speaker. “It is true, Gloria, however impossible it may seem; and a real enthusiastic worker she is. However, to business. Lady Flora told me to tell you, that she has sent picked messengers from the White Guards to every one of our Volunteer centres, so as to be able to keep up active communication with them all. The code adopted works admirably, and has been arranged with extreme skill and forethought. In a few days all will be ready for your campaign. She suggests that you should hold a first meeting in the Hall of Liberty. The White Guards will be in readiness for that one. If the police and military interfere every means for escape will be at hand. Before they have time to look round you will be heard of at York, where you will be attended by the Women’s Rifle Corps, and so on. Rapidity of action will be the characteristic feature of your campaign—a regular Will-o’-the-wisp crusade, in fact. Of course it will be attended by a good deal of risk; but it is quite certain that the people must be appealed to, and those who are supporting you now not left in the lurch. God grant there may be no more blood shed!” “Yes, God grant it indeed!” she answers fervently. “Nevertheless, Evie, ’twere better thus to shed one’s blood than to submit any longer and without protest to the present state of things. Whatever may be the outcome of this revolution, I have no fear but that it will lead up to victory in the future. I may never see the day. What matter? _It will come._” She laughs softly, a low triumphant laugh, as her mind’s eye strives to pierce the murky darkness of the future. Instinctively she realises what lies behind that impenetrable veil, and sees with the glance of prophecy the promised land beyond. It is thus with all reformers. If to them was only vouchsafed the cold, sneering support which the world generally bestows upon early effort, they would sink and die beneath the venomed shafts of the unbelievers; but these latter do not see the noble visions which are given to the pioneers of the future, visions which beckon them forward, and unfold to their eager gaze the triumph of their labours in the establishment of that for which they have given their lives. “Well, I will go and get rid of this disguise,” observes the duke, with a smile. “This beard and these whiskers are uncommonly hot, Gloria. By-the-bye, when does Mrs. de Lara sail?” “In two days, Evie, she goes by the White Star Line,” answers his companion. “I left her in the study just before meeting you. Go in and see her before you change.” He passes on through the porch, outside of which he had found her sitting on his arrival, and enters the cottage, and Gloria takes up her old position to ponder and think over the situation of affairs, which her trusty messenger has brought to her from the outside world.