I ask?" Lord Constantine replied with a
fierce look at Arthur. "I say myself, until the Irish get their rights,
no alliance."

"Then we are with you cordially. We want to do all we can for a man who
has been so fair to our people," the Boss remarked with the flush of
good wine in his cheek. "Champagne sentiments," murmured Arthur.

Monsignor, prompted by Anne, came to the rescue of the young nobleman.

"There would be a row, if the matter came up for discussion just now,"
he said. "Ten years hence may see a change. There's one thing in favor
of Irish ... well, call it neutrality. Speaking as a churchman,
Catholics have a happier lot in English-speaking lands than in other
countries. They have the natural opportunity to develop, they are not
hampered in speech and action as in Italy and France."

"How good of you to say so," murmured His Lordship.

"Then again," continued Monsignor, with a sly glance at Arthur, "it
seems to me inevitable that the English-speaking peoples must come into
closer communion, not merely for their own good, or for selfish aims,
but to spread among less fortunate nations their fine political
principles. There's the force, the strength, of the whole scheme. Put
poor Ireland on her feet, and I vote for an alliance."

"Truly, a Daniel come to judgment," murmured Arthur.

"It's a fine view to take of it," the Boss thought.

"Are you afraid to ask Ledwith for an opinion?" Arthur suggested.

"What's he got to do with it?" Everard snapped, unsoftened by the mellow
atmosphere of the feast.

"It is no longer a practical question with me," Owen said cheerfully. "I
have always said that if the common people of the British Isles got an
understanding of each other, and a better liking for each other, the end
of oppression would come very soon. They are kept apart by the
artificial hindrances raised by the aristocracy of birth and money. The
common people easily fraternize, if they are permitted. See them in this
country, living, working, intermarrying, side by side."

"How will that sound among the brethren?" said Arthur disappointed.

His mother flashed him a look of triumph, and Lord Constantine looked
foolishly happy.

"As the utterance of a maniac, of course. Have they ever regarded me as
sane?" he answered easily.

"And what becomes of your dream?" Arthur persisted.

"I have myself become a dream," he answered sadly. "I am passing into
the land of dreams, of shadows. My dream was Irelan