"Bloodshed might be avoided by their arrest," he said, sadly; "but the
evil would only be postponed, not eradicated. The conspirators have
entered the rapids: they will be allowed to go over the falls."

"Oh, father!" whispered Mary, standing beside him and holding his arm,
"can they not be warned?"

Richard Lincoln, startled from his own brooding by this astounding
question from his daughter, turned, almost sternly, to speak of the
righteous doom of traitors, but he did not say the words. At last he saw
what a less observant eye might have seen long before--the suffering and
fear in her eyes, and the lines which concealed anxiety had drawn on his
daughter's face. Without a word she came into his arms and lay upon his
breast and sobbed, and no word was needed that was not spoken in the
father's gentle hand on her dear head.

The hours of the afternoon went slowly by, and Richard Lincoln was glad
to look forward to an unusual evening as the best means of diverting
Mary's mind from the subject which filled it. At seven o'clock a great
public meeting was to be held in Cobden Square. The platform for the
speakers happened to be built beneath the windows of Mr. Windsor's city
house, and the hospitable American, who was to depart next morning for
his own country, had invited a large party to hear the speeches.

Mary was glad when her father told her that he wished her to go with
him, for Maggie Windsor was the only one who knew her secret. As she
drove with her father into the square in the evening, the place was
bright as mid-day with electric lights. The crowd was already gathering,
and the people were strangely silent.

At Mr. Windsor's there was a large party, and among the guests many of
those whom Mary had met at Ripon House.

It was almost a merry gathering. The genial American gentleman and his
charming daughter had conquered even the austerity of the Duchess of
Bayswater; and the Duke conversed with Mr. Sydney, swaying his gold
eyeglass on its string with gracious abandon.

Geoffrey Ripon and Featherstone, who were together, saw Mr. Lincoln and
Mary as soon as they entered.

"Geoffrey," said Featherstone, in a bantering whisper, "behold our
deadly enemy. Do you dare to speak to him?"

"I should rather not," answered Geoffrey, "but I suppose we must.
Heavens! How pale his daughter is!"

"Come, Ripon. Mr. Lincoln sees us. Here goes to shake hands with the man
whom we must send to prison to-morrow--if he don