, effectively,--"how many are as yet really
aware of the change? The multitude takes no account of it, no conscious
account; the average man lives under the heaven of Joshua, on the earth
of King Solomon. We call our age scientific. So it is--for a few score
human beings."

Reflecting for a moment, Dyce felt that it would be absurd to charge
him with plagiarism, so vastly more eloquent was he than the author to
whom he owed his ideas. Conscience did not trouble him in the least. He
marked with satisfaction the attentiveness of his audience.

"Politics, to be a living thing, must be viewed in this new, large
light. The leader in Liberalism is the man imbued with scientific
truth, and capable of applying it to the every day details of
government. Science, I said, teaches hierarchic order--that is, the
rule of the few, of the select, the divinely appointed. But this
hierarchy is an open order--open to the select of every rank; a process
of perpetual renewal will maintain the health of the political
organism. The true polity is only in slow formation; for, obviously,
human reason is not yet a complete development. As yet, men come to the
front by accident; some day they will be advanced to power by an
inevitable and impeccable process of natural selection. For my own
part"--he turned slightly towards the hostess--"I think that use will
be made of our existing system of aristocracy; in not a few instances,
technical aristocracy is justified by natural pre-eminence. We can all
think of examples. Personally, I might mention my friend Lord
Dymchurch--a member of the true aristocracy, in every sense of the
word."

"I don't know him," said Lady Ogram.

"That doesn't surprise me. He leads an extremely retired life. But I am
sure you would find him a very pleasant acquaintance."

Lashmar occasionally had a fine discretion. He knew when to cheek the
flood of his eloquence: a glance at this face and that, and he said
within himself: _Sat prata biberunt_. Soon after this, Lady Ogram rose,
and led the company into her verdurous drawing-room. She was beginning
to show signs of fatigue; seated in her throne-like chair, she let her
head lie back, and was silent. Constance Bride, ever tactful, began to
take a more prominent part in the conversation, and Breakspeare was
delighted to talk with her about ordinary things. Presently, Lashmar,
in reply to some remark, mentioned that he was returning to London this
evening whereupon his hos