s table was very like to the noise made on the verge
of the Boer War. And your procedure seems to me as unaccountable as
would have seemed the antics of those mobs if England had been plainly
doomed to disaster and to vassalage. My guest here to-night, in the
course of his very eloquent and racy speech, spoke of the need that he
and you should preserve your 'free and independent manhood.' That seemed
to me an irreproachable ideal. But I confess I was somewhat taken aback
by my friend's scheme for realising it. He declared his intention of
lying prone and letting Miss Dobson 'walk over' him; and he advised you
to follow his example; and to this counsel you gave evident approval.
Gentlemen, suppose that on the verge of the aforesaid war, some orator
had said to the British people 'It is going to be a walk-over for our
enemy in the field. Mr. Kruger holds us in the hollow of his hand.
In subjection to him we shall find our long-lost freedom and
independence'--what would have been Britannia's answer? What, on
reflection, is yours to Mr. Oover? What are Mr. Oover's own second
thoughts?" The Duke paused, with a smile to his guest.

"Go right ahead, Duke," said Mr. Oover. "I'll re-ply when my turn
comes."

"And not utterly demolish me, I hope," said the Duke. His was the Oxford
manner. "Gentlemen," he continued, "is it possible that Britannia would
have thrown her helmet in the air, shrieking 'Slavery for ever'? You,
gentlemen, seem to think slavery a pleasant and an honourable state. You
have less experience of it than I. I have been enslaved to Miss Dobson
since yesterday evening; you, only since this afternoon; I, at close
quarters; you, at a respectful distance. Your fetters have not galled
you yet. MY wrists, MY ankles, are excoriated. The iron has entered into
my soul. I droop. I stumble. Blood flows from me. I quiver and curse. I
writhe. The sun mocks me. The moon titters in my face. I can stand it no
longer. I will no more of it. Tomorrow I die."

The flushed faces of the diners grew gradually pale. Their eyes lost
lustre. Their tongues clove to the roofs of their mouths.

At length, almost inaudibly, The MacQuern asked "Do you mean you are
going to commit suicide?"

"Yes," said the Duke, "if you choose to put it in that way. Yes. And it
is only by a chance that I did not commit suicide this afternoon."

"You--don't--say," gasped Mr. Oover.

"I do indeed," said the Duke. "And I ask you all to weigh well my
mess