protection for the people."

"Are they?" asked Robert.

"No."

"Then why does he not send an army against them?"

"He is engaged in trafficking with the heathen and fears that he may
lose, financially, by a war."

"Is gain in traffic of more consequence than human life?"

"With him, it is."

Robert was a lover of humanity, and in a moment he had taken sides. He
was a republican and his fate was cast with Bacon, even before he had
seen this remarkable man.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE SWORD OF DEFENCE.

He stood--some dread was on his face,
Soon hatred settled in its place:
It rose not with the reddening flush
Of transient anger's hasty blush,
But pale as marble o'er the tomb,
Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom.
--BYRON.

Robert Stevens returned home, his mind filled with strange, wild
thoughts. It was a lovely evening in early spring. The moon, round and
full, rose from out its watery bed and shed a soft, refulgent glow on
this most delightful of all climes. Below was the bay, on which floated
many barks, and among them the vessel which had so recently brought him
from Boston. The little town lay quiet and peaceful on the hill where
his grandfather and Captain John Smith sixty years ago had planted it.
Beyond were the dark forests, gloomy and forbidding, as if they
concealed many foes of the white men; but those woods were not all dark
and forbidding. From them issued the sweet perfumes of wild flowers and
the songs of night birds, such as are known in Virginia.

Young Stevens was in no mood to be impressed by the surrounding scenery.
He was repeating under his breath:

"_Tyranny! tyranny! tyranny!_"

Robert loved freedom as dearly as he loved Ester Goffe, and one was as
necessary to his existence as the other. Now, on his return to the land
of his nativity, he found the ruler, once so mild and popular, grown
to a tyrant.

"His office is for life," sighed Robert. "And too much power hath made
him mad."

Reaching the house, he heard voices in the front room and among them
that of his sister. She was greatly agitated, and he heard her saying:

"No, no, Mr. Peram. I--don't understand you."

"Not understand me? I love you, sweet maid. Do I not make myself plain?"

"No, no; do not talk that way; pray do not."

"But you must promise, sweet maid, to wed me. I adore you."

At this the scoundrel caught her hand, and Rebecca ut