t is, we'll thrust that throne over with our hands," said he after
a moment's pause.

"Aye," cried Monmouth. "We'll do it, God helping us!"

"Our dependence and trust is in the Lord of Hosts, in Whose Name we
go forth," boomed the voice of Ferguson, quoting from his precious
Declaration. "The Lord will do that which seemeth good unto Him."

"An unanswerable argument," said Wilding, smiling. "But the Lord, I am
told by the gentlemen of your cloth, works in His own good time, and my
fears are all lest, finding us unprepared of ourselves, the Lord's good
time be not yet."

"Out on ye, sir," cried Ferguson. "Ye want for reverence!"

"Common sense will serve us better at the moment," answered Wilding
with a touch of sharpness. He turned to the frowning and perplexed
Duke--whose mind was being tossed this way and that, like a shuttlecock
upon the battledore of these men's words. "Your Grace," he said,
"forgive me that I speak it if hear it you will, or forbid me to say it
if your resolve is unalterable in this matter."

"It is unalterable," answered Grey for the Duke.

But Monmouth gently overruled him for once.

"Nevertheless, speak by all means, Mr. Wilding. Whatever you may say,
you need have no fear that any of us can doubt your good intentions to
ourselves."

"I thank Your Grace. What I have to say is but a repetition of the
first words I uttered at this table. I would urge Your Grace even now to
retreat."

"What? Are you mad?" It was Lord Grey who asked the impatient question.

"I doubt it's over-late for that," said Fletcher slowly.

"I am not so sure," answered Wilding. "But I am sure that to attempt it
were the safer course--the surer in the end. I myself may not linger
to push forward the task of stirring up the people, for I am already
something more than under suspicion. But there are others who will
remain to carry on the work after I have departed with Your Grace, if
Your Grace thinks well. From the Continent by correspondence we can
mature our plans. In a twelvemonth things will be very different, and we
can return with confidence."

Grey shrugged and turned his shoulder upon Wilding, but said no word.
There was silence of some few moments. Andrew Fletcher leaned his elbow
on the table and took his brow in his great bony hand. Wilding's words
seemed an echo of those he himself had spoken a week or two ago, only to
be overruled by Grey, who swayed the Duke more than did any other--and
that he did