ght me some bitter truths."

"Truth is very precious," said Egremont, "to us all; and yet I fear I
could not sufficiently appreciate the cause that deprived you of your
sanguine faith."

"Alas!" said Sybil mournfully, "I was but a dreamer of dreams: I wake
from my hallucination as others have done I suppose before me. Like them
too I feel the glory of life has gone; but my content at least," and she
bent her head meekly, "has never rested I hope too much on this world."

"You are depressed, dear Sybil?"

"I am unhappy. I am anxious about my father. I fear that he is
surrounded by men unworthy of his confidence. These scenes of violence
alarm me. Under any circumstances I should shrink from them, but I
am impressed with the conviction that they can bring us nothing but
disaster and disgrace."

"I honor your father," said Egremont, "I know no man whose character I
esteem so truly noble; such a just compound of intelligence and courage,
and gentle and generous impulse. I should deeply grieve were he to
compromise himself. But you have influence over him, the greatest, as
you have over all. Counsel him to return to Mowbray."

"Can I give counsel?" said Sybil, "I who have been wrong in all my
judgments? I came up to this city with him, to be his guide, his
guardian. What arrogance! What short-sighted pride! I thought the People
all felt as I feel; that I had nothing to do but to sustain and animate
him; to encourage him when he flagged, to uphold him when he wavered. I
thought that moral power must govern the world, and that moral power
was embodied in an assembly whose annals will be a series of petty
intrigues, or, what is worse, of violent machinations."

"Exert every energy," said Egremont, "that your father should leave
London, immediately; to-morrow, to-night if possible. After this
business at Birmingham, the government must act. I hear that they
will immediately increase the army and the police; and that there is
a circular from the Secretary of State to the Lords Lieutenant of
counties. But the government will strike at the Convention. The members
who remain will be the victims. If your father return to Mowbray and be
quiet, he has a chance of not being disturbed."

"An ignoble end of many lofty hopes," said Sybil.

"Let us retain our hopes," said Egremont, "and cherish them."

"I have none," she replied.

"And I am sanguine," said Egremont.

"Ah! because you have made a beautiful speech. But they will