“Nay, you mistake me, I will not say wilfully,” replied Bacon, in an offended tone, “I merely used the sentiment as an illustration of what I had been saying. The people must have rulers, and my idea of liberty only extends to their selection of them. After that, stability in government requires that the power of the people should cease, and that of the ruler begin. You may purify the stream through which the power flows, by constantly resorting to the fountain head; but if you keep the power pent up in the fountain, like water, it will stagnate and become impure, or else overflow its banks and devastate that soil which it was intended to fertilize.” “Our ideas of liberty, I confess,” said Hansford, “differ very widely. God grant that our antagonistic views may not prejudice the holy cause in which we are now engaged.” “Well, let us drop the subject then,” said Bacon, carelessly, “as there is so little prospect of our agreeing in sentiment. What I said was merely meant to while away this tedious journey, and make you forget your own private griefs. But tell me, what do you think of the result of this enterprise?” “I think it attended with great danger,” replied Hansford. “I had not thought,” returned Bacon, with something between a smile and a sneer, “that Thomas Hansford would have considered the question of peril involved in a contest like this.” “I am at a loss to understand your meaning,” said Hansford, indignantly. “If you think I regard danger for myself, I tell you that it is a feeling as far a stranger to my bosom as to your own, and this I am ready to maintain. If you meant no offence, I will merely say that it is the part of every general to 'sit down and consider the cost' before engaging in any enterprise.” “Why will you be so quick to take offence?” said Bacon. “Do I not know that fear is a stranger to your breast?—else why confide in you as I have done? But I spoke not of the danger attending our enterprise. To me danger is not a matter of indifference, it is an object of desire. They who would bathe in a Stygian wave, to render them invulnerable, are not worthy of the name of heroes. It is only the unmailed warrior, whose form, like the white plume of Navarre, is seen where danger is the thickest, that is truly brave and truly great.” “You are a singular being, Bacon,” said Hansford, with admiration, “and were born to be a hero. But tell me, what is it that you expect or hope for poor Virginia, when all your objects may be attained? She is still but a poor, helpless colony, sapped of her resources by a relentless sovereign, and expected to submit quietly to the oppressions of those who would enslave her.”