king up into the
faces first of Pollux and then of Castor, as though from them she might
gain some inspiration on the subject, which Marcus Aurelius in his
coldness had denied to her. "From you, who have so nobly claimed for
mankind the divine attributes of free action! From you, who have taught
my mind to soar above the petty bonds which one man in his littleness
contrives for the subjection of his brother. Mackinnon--you who are so
great!" And she now looked up into his face. "Mackinnon, unsay those
words."

"They _are_ illegitimate," said he, "and if there was any landed
property--"

"Landed property! and that from an American!"

"The children are English, you know."

"Landed property! The time will shortly come--ay, and I see it
coming--when that hateful word shall be expunged from the calendar,
when landed property shall be no more. What! shall the free soul of a
God-born man submit itself for ever to such trammels as that? Shall
we never escape from the clay which so long has manacled the subtler
particles of the divine spirit? Ay, yes, Mackinnon!" and then she took
him by the arm, and led him to the top of the huge steps which lead down
from the Campidoglio into the streets of modern Rome. "Look down upon
that countless multitude." Mackinnon looked down, and saw three groups
of French soldiers, with three or four little men in each group; he saw
also a couple of dirty friars, and three priests very slowly beginning
the side ascent to the church of the Ara Coeli. "Look down upon that
countless multitude," said Mrs. Talboys, and she stretched her arms
out over the half-deserted city. "They are escaping now from those
trammels--now, now--now that I am speaking."

"They have escaped long ago from all such trammels as that of landed
property," said Mackinnon.

"Ay, and from all terrestrial bonds," she continued, not
exactly remarking the pith of his last observation; "from bonds
quasi-terrestrial and quasi-celestial. The full-formed limbs of the
present age, running with quick streams of generous blood, will no
longer bear the ligatures which past time have woven for the decrepit.
Look down upon that multitude, Mackinnon; they shall all be free." And
then, still clutching him by the arm and still standing at the top of
those stairs, she gave forth her prophecy with the fury of a sibyl.

"They shall all be free. O Rome, thou eternal one! thou who hast bowed
thy neck to imperial pride and priestly craft, thou w