"And who may betray them," said Egremont.
"Betray them!" exclaimed Sybil. "And can you believe that my
father--"
"No, no; you can feel, Sybil, though I cannot express, how
much I honour your father. But he stands alone in the
singleness and purity of his heart. Who surround him?"
"Those whom the People have also chosen; and from a like
confidence in their virtues and abilities. They are a senate
supported by the sympathy of millions, with only one object in
view--the emancipation of their race. It is a sublime
spectacle, these delegates of labour advocating the sacred
cause in a manner which might shame your haughty factions.
What can resist a demonstration so truly national! What can
withstand the supremacy of its moral power!"
Her eye met the glance of Egremont. That brow full of thought
and majesty was fixed on his. He encountered that face
radiant as a seraph's; those dark eyes flashing with the
inspiration of the martyr.
Egremont rose, moved slowly to the window, gazed in
abstraction for a few moments on the little garden with its
dank turf that no foot ever trod, its mutilated statue and its
mouldering frescoes. What a silence; how profound! What a
prospect: how drear! Suddenly he turned, and advancing with a
more rapid pace: he approached Sybil.
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