ke it for her. Almost every struggle
that Ireland ever made was captained by her aristocracy. Think of the
Geraldines and the O'Neills. Think of Sarsfield and the Wild Geese.
Think of the men who wrenched a measure of independence from England in
1782. Think of Lord Edward and Smith O'Brien. No, we may talk and write
and agitate, but we'll _do_ nothing till we get the old families with
us.'

Hyacinth laughed. It seemed to him that Miss Goold was deliberately
talking nonsense, rejoicing in a paradox.

'We are likely to wait, if we wait for them. Look at those.' He waved
his hand towards a group of yeomen who were chatting at the street
corner. 'They are going to stamp out a nation in South Africa. Is it
likely that they will create one here?'

'It is not likely'--she sighed as she spoke--'yet stranger things than
that have happened. Have you ever considered what the present English
policy in Ireland really is? Do you understand that they are trying to
keep us quiet by bribing the priests? They think that the Protestants
are powerless, or that they will be loyal no matter what happens. But
think: These Protestants have been accustomed for generations to regard
themselves as a superior race. They conceive themselves to have a
natural right to govern. Now they are being snubbed and insulted. There
isn't an English official from their Lord Lieutenant down but thinks he
is quite safe in ignoring the Protestants, and is only anxious to
make himself agreeable to the priests. That's the beginning. Very soon
they'll be bullied as well as snubbed. They will stand a good deal of
it, because, like most strong people, they are very stupid and slow at
understanding; but do you suppose they will always stand it?'

'They're English, and not Irish,' said Hyacinth. 'I suppose they like
what their own people do.'

'It's a lie. They are not English, though they say it themselves. In the
end they will find out that they are Irish. Some day a last insult, a
particularly barefaced robbery, or an intolerable oppression, will awake
them. Then they'll turn on the people that betrayed them. They will
discover that Ireland--their Ireland--isn't meant to be a cabbage-garden
for Manchester, nor yet a _creche_ for sucking priests. Ah! it will be
good to be alive when they find themselves. We shall be within reach of
the freedom of Ireland then.'

Hyacinth was amazed at her vehement admiration for the class she was
accustomed to anathematize. He