"Nay, I am not. When I can shut my ears as easy as my eyes, I can afford to be less particular about the company I keep. I know beforehand what the women in that crowd will say about their own danger, and about the murmuring poor who won't starve in peace, and I know that I would be sure to answer them with a little bit of plain truth." "And the truth is not always pleasant, eh, Maude?" "In this case I'm sure it wouldn't be pleasant. So, then, the outside of Richmoor House is the best side for me." "I must say I'm getting a bit tired myself of the Duke's masterful way, and of his everlasting talk about the 'noble memories of the past.'" "Then tell him, John, that the noble hopes of the future are something better than the noble memories of the past. The country is in a bad condition as ever was. Something must be done, and done quickly." "I'm saying nothing to the contrary, Maude. But even if Reform was right, it cannot be carried. We must drive the nail that will go. That is only good common-sense, Maude." "Mark my words, John. Reform will _have_ to come, and better now than later. That which fools do in the end, wise men do in the beginning. I know, I know." "On this subject thou knowest nothing whatever, Maude. Now, then, I am going to have a bit of sleep. But I will say thus far--as soon as ever I am sure that I am on a wrong road I won't go a step further. John Atheling is not the man to carry a candle for the devil." With these words he threw his bandana handkerchief over his head, adding, "He hoped now he had a 'right' to a bit of sleep." Then Mrs. Atheling went softly out of the room. There was a tolerant smile on her face, for she was not deceived by the Squire's habit of dignifying his self-assertions and his self-indulgences with the name of "rights." CHAPTER TENTH TROUBLE COMES UNSUMMONED Never had the ducal palace of Richmoor been more splendidly prepared for festivity than on the night of the first of March, 1831. And yet every guest present knew that it was not a festival, but a gathering of men and women moved by the gravest fears for the future. The long suites of parlours, brilliantly lighted, were crowded with peers and noble ladies, wearing, indeed, the smiles of conventional pleasure; but all of them eager to discuss the portentous circumstances by which they were environed.