il.

"Can I read the future," answered the voice, "save by comparison with
past?--Who has been hunted on these stern and unmitigable accusations,
but has been at last brought to bay? Did high and noble birth, honoured
age, and approved benevolence, save the unfortunate Lord Stafford? Did
learning, capacity of intrigue, or high Court favour, redeem Coleman,
although the confidential servant of the heir presumptive of the Crown
of England?--Did subtilty and genius, and exertions of a numerous sect,
save Fenwicke, or Whitbread, or any other of the accused priests?--Were
Groves, Pickering, or the other humble wretches who have suffered, safe
in their obscurity? There is no condition in life, no degree of talent,
no form of principle, which affords protection against an accusation,
which levels conditions, confounds characters, renders men's virtues
their sins, and rates them as dangerous in proportion as they have
influence, though attained in the noblest manner, and used for the
best purposes. Call such a one but an accessory to the Plot--let him
be mouthed in the evidence of Oates or Dugdale--and the blindest shall
foresee the issue of their trial."

"Prophet of Evil!" said Julian, "my father has a shield invulnerable to
protect him. He is innocent."

"Let him plead his innocence at the bar of Heaven," said the voice; "it
will serve him little where Scroggs presides."

"Still I fear not," said Julian, counterfeiting more confidence than
he really possessed; "my father's cause will be pleaded before twelve
Englishmen."

"Better before twelve wild beasts," answered the Invisible, "than before
Englishmen, influenced with party prejudice, passion, and epidemic
terror of an imaginary danger. They are bold in guilt in proportion to
the number amongst whom the crime is divided."

"Ill-omened speaker," said Julian, "thine is indeed a voice fitted
only to sound with the midnight bell, and the screeching owl. Yet
speak again. Tell me, if thou canst"--(He would have said of Alice
Bridgenorth, but the word would not leave his tongue)--"Tell me," he
said, "if the noble house of Derby----"

"Let them keep their rock like the sea-fowl in the tempest; and it may
so fall out," answered the voice, "that their rock may be a safe refuge.
But there is blood on their ermine; and revenge has dogged them for many
a year, like a bloodhound that hath been distanced in the morning
chase, but may yet grapple the quarry ere the sun shall set.