"a dozen years above water, but a century below. We shall be able to handle our difficulties—Don't you think so, Mary?" he added lightly, as they went out,
"Papa," said Mary, as they walked across the main street, "I met Sir John Dacre at Arundel House when I was visiting Lucy Arundel last year, and I can assure you he is not an evil-minded man."
"Indeed!" answered the father, rather amused at the relation; "you like him, then?"
"Very much, indeed. He is a perfect old-fashioned cavalier, and the most distinguished-looking man I ever saw, except you."
Her father laughed at the unconscious flattery.
"And the very oldest men are constantly consulting him," continued Mary; who was on a subject which evidently interested her.
There was something in Mary's voice that made her father glance down at her face. But he did not pursue the subject.
The months rolled on in this unrestful peace, and day by day it grew clear that the internal troubles of the Republic were forming a dangerous congestion. Richard Lincoln again became an attentive reader of the newspapers. No man in England studied more carefully the signs of the times. Daily, too, he listened to the denunciation of the aristocrats by his radical old friend.
"They ought to be banished!" exclaimed Mr. Patterson, one morning. "I said it would come to this."
He pointed to an announcement of a meeting of "gentlemen who still retained respect for their Sacred Cause," to be held at Arundel House the following week, the wording of which was rather vague, as if intended to convey