er, as he had already
found several other latter-day women that night, less well informed
than charming. Suddenly, struggling against the eddying drift of nearer
melody, the song of the Revolt, the great song he had heard in the Hall,
hoarse and massive, came beating down to him.

He glanced up startled, and perceived above him an _oeil de boeuf_
through which this song had come, and beyond, the upper courses of
cable, the blue haze, and the pendant fabric of the lights of the public
ways. He heard the song break into a tumult of voices and cease. But now
he perceived quite clearly the drone and tumult of the moving platforms
and a murmur of many people. He had a vague persuasion that he could not
account for, a sort of instinctive feeling that outside in the ways a
huge crowd' must be watching this place in which their Master amused
himself. He wondered what they might be thinking.

Though the song had stopped so abruptly, though the special music of
this gathering reasserted itself, the motif of the marching song, once
it had begun, lingered in his mind.

The bright-eyed lady was still struggling with the mysteries of
Eadhamite when he perceived the girl he had seen in the theatre again.
She was coming now along the gallery towards him; he saw her first
before she saw him. She was dressed in a faintly luminous grey, her dark
hair about her brows was like a cloud, and as he saw her the cold light
from the circular opening into the ways fell upon her downcast face.

The lady in trouble about the Eadhamite saw the change in his
expression, and grasped her opportunity to escape. "Would you care to
know that girl, Sire?" she asked boldly. "She is Helen Wotton--a niece
of Ostrog's. She knows a great many serious things. She is one of the
most serious persons alive. I am sure you will like her."

In another moment Graham was talking to the girl, and the bright-eyed
lady had fluttered away.

"I remember you quite well," said Graham. "You were in that little
room. When all the people were singing and beating time with their feet.
Before I walked across the Hall."

Her momentary embarrassment passed. She looked up at him, and her face
was steady. "It was wonderful," she said, hesitated, and spoke with
a sudden effort. "All those people would have died for you, Sire.
Countless people did die for you that night."

Her face glowed. She glanced swiftly aside to see that no other heard
her words.

Lincoln appeared some wa