wiftly. "What was it you said in
Chicago about the phrase-makers?--the Socialism that flourished in the
study while women and children starved in the streets? Those are the
sort of things that we remember, Aaron and I."

"This is a country of slow progress," Maraton reminded them. "One
builds stone by stone. Listen to me carefully, you two. Since you have
had understanding, your eyes have been fixed upon this one immense
problem. I have a question to ask you concerning it. Shall I destroy
for the sake of the unborn generations, or shall I use all my cunning
and the power of the people to lead them a little further into the light
during their living days? What would they say themselves, do you think?
Would one in a hundred be content to sacrifice himself for a principle?"

"Who knows that the millennium would be so long delayed?" Julia
exclaimed. "A few years might see Society reconstituted, with new laws
and a new humanity."

Maraton shook his head.

"Don't make any mistake about that," he said. "If I press the levers
upon which to-day my hand seems to rest, this country will be laid waste
with famine and riot and conquest. An hour ago a little man was here, a
little, black-bearded man with a quiet voice, charged with a great
mission. He came to offer me, on behalf of a syndicate of foreign
manufacturers, a million pounds towards our universal strike."

They both gasped. The thing was surely incredible!

"An incident like that," Maraton continued, "may show you what this
country must lose, for her rivals do not give away a million pounds for
nothing."

Julia's eyes were fixed upon his. Her face was full of strained
anxiety.

"You talk," she murmured, "as though you had doubts, as though you were
hesitating. Forgive me--we have waited so long for to-day--we and all
the others."

"Could any one," he demanded, "stand in the position I stand in to-day
and not have doubts?"

Her eyes flashed at him.

"Yes," she cried, "a prophet could! A real man could--the man we
thought you were, could!"

Aaron leaned forward, aghast. His monosyllable was charged with
terrified reproach.

"Julia!"

She turned upon him.

"You, too! You weren't at Lyndwood, were you? . . . Doubts!" she
went on fiercely, her eyes flashing once more upon Maraton. "How can
you fire their blood if there are doubts in your heart? So long these
people have waited. No wonder their hearts are sick and their brains
are clogged, their will is tir