end of
the affair, and seemed to foresee the ruin to which the troubled waters
in which he swam were sweeping the King's men.

CHAPTER X.

KING GEORGE THE FIFTH.

England was at peace; but it was the lurid peace before the storm. All
men knew that the days were hurrying on toward an outbreak. In what
shape it should come no one knew, and the mystery deepened the sensation
of expectancy and dread.

It had been publicly spoken, in the street, the press, and even in
Parliament, that the Royalists were conspiring for a revolution; and
this certainty had sunk deep into the hearts of the people. Their
silence was ominous; the Royalists looked upon it as favorable.

But there were Englishmen who knew their countrymen better, and who
foreboded darkly, though without fear, of the end; and among these was
Richard Lincoln. His heart beat with the popular pulsation, and he knew
that there could be but one outcome to such a blind and reckless
enterprise.

Mary Lincoln alone perceived how deep was the trouble in her father's
soul as those surcharged hours went reeling past. Deep beyond even his
trouble was her own, for though she had not confessed it even to
herself, every hope of her life was bound up in the destinies of the
Royalist conspiracy.

On the afternoon of November 23d there was an early adjournment of
Parliament, and her father came home more depressed than she had ever
seen him. Her heart grew cold in the unusual silence.

Mary waited for her father to speak, but the evening wore on, and he had
only tried to lead her to every-day subjects.

"Father," she said at last, "there is depressing news. What has
happened? Will you not tell me?"

"Yes, there is sad news, dear--gloomy news for some. Those madmen will
attempt a revolution by civil war within the next twenty-four hours."

"It is known?"

"Yes, it is all known--and all prepared for."

Mary's face changed as if a white light had fallen on it; her pitiful
excitement was evident in the quivering lips and restless hands. She
would have cried out in her grief and pity had she been alone; but her
father's strength, so close to her, made her strong and patient.

"If it is known," she said, with forced calmness, "surely it will be
stopped without bloodshed? They will arrest those gentlemen before they
go too far."

Had her father looked into the eyes that spoke more than the lips he
might have read beyond the words. But his mind was preoccupied.