f the King, who was well known
as a strong advocate of the Bill, there had been considerable
disturbances amongst the crowds.

All this had come, of course, to the ears of the ecclesiastical
authorities far more forcibly than the world outside suspected.
There had been threatening letters; twice the Cardinal's carriage
had been mobbed; a dozen well-known priests had been molested in
the public streets. There had been meetings and consultations of
all kinds; there had even been a moment when it seemed as if the
Cardinal and the Prime Minister stood almost alone in their
complete resolution. . . . It was not that any really responsible
persons contemplated the abandonment of the Bill; but a party had
almost been formed for its postponement, in the hope that when
once the opposition had been dissolved it would be difficult to
reorganize it again. On the other hand, the resolutes stood for
the assertion that just because things were really critical in
Germany--(in the state of affairs that followed the Emperor's
conversion)--it was now the time for England to advance; that any
hesitation shown now would be taken as a sign of weakness, and
that the Socialists' cause would be thereby enormously advanced.

Three or four results therefore were possible, from the
determination of the Government to push the Bill forward and to
present it for its second reading this evening. First, it might
pass triumphantly, if the leaders could succeed in inspiring
their followers with confidence. Secondly, it might be rejected,
if the panic spread; for, under the new parliamentary system
that had succeeded fifty years ago to the old Party Government,
it was impossible to reckon accurately on how members would
ultimately vote. Thirdly, it might pass with a narrow majority;
and in this event, it was certain that a very long delay would
follow before the Upper House would have an opportunity of
handing it on for the Royal assent. Fourthly--well, almost
anything else might happen, if the crowd, assembled in
Parliament Square, and swelled every hour by new arrivals,
showed itself predominantly hostile. . . .

Lord Southminster's house needs no description. It is probably,
even to-day, as well known as any place in England: there is no
guide book which does not give at least three or four pages to
the castle, as well as a few lines to the tiny historical seaside
village beneath from which the marquisate derives its name. And
it was in the littl