"America," continued Dacre, "had nothing to unlearn. Her people had no royal traditions--we have no democratic ones." "There is something in that," said Geoffrey. "There is everything in it. The Americans are true to their past, while we are false to ours. We are trampling on the glorious name and fame of our country. We are recreant to our position, intelligence, to our fathers' memories--or we shall be if we do not--" "Do not what?" asked Geoffrey, as Dacre paused. "If we do not unite and have another revolution!" answered Dacre, slowly and firmly. There was a slight sound outside the room, which made Geoffrey raise his eyes and glance toward the window; but Dacre, now aflame with his subject, stood before him and arrested his look. "Ripon, do you think that the nobles, the gentlemen of England, have lain down like submissive creatures to this atrocious revolt? Do you think nothing has been done?" "In Heaven's name, what can be done?" asked Geoffrey. "What did the Anarchists do when they wanted power?" asked Dacre fiercely. "They banded together in secret. They swore to be true to each other to the death. They armed and drilled and prepared their plans. They watched every avenue, and took advantage of every mistake of ours. They inflamed the masses against the Royal Family, the Court, the House of Peers, the landed aristocracy, and when their hour of opportunity came they raised the cry of revolution, and the government was changed in a day." "Well?" "Well!--we have learned their lesson. What they did we shall do. We have banded ourselves together. What is that?" A noise like a creaking door had struck Dacre's ear, and he stopped. Geoffrey had heard it, too, and instantly jumped up and walked into the kitchen. Reynolds was not there; but Geoffrey heard him at work in another room. He returned smiling. "Either an owl or a ghost, Dacre," he said, looking out on the field. "There is not a soul but old Reynolds within two miles of this place." Dacre continued to pace the room, and as he walked he said in a low voice: "I have said too much, or not enough, Ripon. Shall I proceed?" "By all means, proceed." "But you understand--you see the consequence? You know enough to know whether or not you want to hear more." Geoffrey was silent, and sat looking at the fire. He was moved by Dacre's words; but he was not filled with any new resolution. At last he raised his eyes and was about to speak. Dacre was regarding him intently, and now came and bent toward him. "Come with us, Ripon," he said earnestly, dropping each sentence slowly. "We want you. You are needed. It is your duty." "I am not sure, Dacre, about that," answered Geoffrey, looking at his friend. Dacre drew back, with a flush on his pale face.