Sybil, Or, The Two Nations, Earl of Beaconsfield Benjamin Disraeli [chrysanthemum read aloud TXT] 📗

band to rifle the round tower; they would have taken care that every document in it, especially an iron chest painted blue and blazoned with the shield of Valence, should have been delivered to you, to me, to any one that Gerard appointed for the office. And what could be the remedy of the Earl de Mowbray? He could scarcely bring an action against the hundred for the destruction of the castle, which we would prove was not his own. And the most he could do would be to transport some poor wretches who had got drunk in his plundered cellars and then set fire to his golden saloons.”

“You amaze me,” said Morley, looking with an astonished expression on the person who had just delivered himself of these suggestive details with the same coolness and arid accuracy that he would have entered into the details of a pedigree.

“‘Tis a practical view of the case,” remarked Mr Hatton.

Morley paced the chamber disturbed; Hatton remained silent and watched him with a scrutinizing eye.

“Are you certain of your facts?” at length said Morley abruptly stopping.

“Quite so; Lord de Mowbray informed me of the circumstances himself before I left London, and I came down here in consequence.”

“You know him?”

“No one better.”

“And these documents—some of them I suppose,” said Morley with a cynical look, “were once in your own possession then?”

“Possibly. Would they were now! But it is a great thing to know where they may be found.”

“Then they once were the property of Gerard?”

“Hardly that. They were gained by my own pains, and often paid for with my own purse. Claimed by no one, I parted with them to a person to whom they were valuable. It is not merely to serve Gerard that I want them now, though I would willingly serve him. I have need of some of these papers with respect to an ancient title, a claim to which by a person in whom I am interested they would substantiate. Now listen, good friend Morley; moral force is a fine thing especially in speculation, and so is a community of goods especially when a man has no property, but when you have lived as long as I have and have tasted of the world’s delight, you’ll comprehend the rapture of acquisition, and learn that it is generally secured by very coarse means. Come, I have a mind that you should prosper. The public spirit is inflamed here; you are a leader of the people. Let us have another meeting on the Moor, a preconcerted outbreak; you can put your fingers in a trice on the men who will do our work. Mowbray Castle is in their possession; we secure our object. You shall have ten thousand pounds on the nail, and I will take you back to London with me besides and teach you what is fortune.”

“I understand you,” said Morley. “You have a clear brain and a bold spirit; you have no scruples, which indeed are generally the creatures of perplexity rather than of principle. You ought to succeed.”

“We ought to succeed you mean,” said Hatton, “for I have long perceived that you only wanted opportunity to mount.”

“Yesterday was a great burst of feeling occasioned by a very peculiar cause,” said Morley musingly; “but it must not mislead us. The discontent here is not deep. The people are still employed, though not fully. Wages have fallen, but they must drop more. THE PEOPLE are not ripe for the movement you intimate. There are thousands who would rush to the rescue of the castle. Besides there is a priest here, one St Lys, who exercises a most pernicious influence over the people. It will require immense efforts and great distress to root him out. No; it would fail.”

“Then we must wait awhile,” said Hatton, “or devise some other means.”

“‘Tis a very impracticable case,” said Morley.

“There is a combination for every case,” said Hatton. “Ponder and it comes. This seemed simple; but you think, you really think it would not answer?”

“At this moment, not; that is my conviction.”

“Well suppose instead of an insurrection we have a burglary. Can you assist me to the right hands here?”

“Not I indeed!”

“What is the use then of this influence over the people of which you and Gerard are always talking? After yesterday I thought here you could do anything.”

“We have not hitherto had the advantage of your worldly knowledge; in future we shall be wiser.”

“Well then,” said Hatton, “we must now think of Gerard’s defence. He shall have the best counsel. I shall retain Kelly specially. I shall return to town to-morrow morning. You will keep me alive to the state of feeling here, and if things get more mature drop me a line and I will come down.”

“This conversation had better not be mentioned to Gerard.”

“That is obvious; it would only disturb him. I did not preface it by a stipulation of confidence because that is idle. Of course you will keep the secret; it is your interest; it is a great possession. I know very well you will be most jealous of sharing it. I know it is as safe with you as with myself.”

And with these words Hatton wished him a hearty farewell and withdrew.

“He is right,” thought Morley; “he knows human nature well. The secret is safe. I will not breathe it to Gerard. I will treasure it up. It is knowledge; it is power: great knowledge, great power. And what shall I do with it? Time will teach me.”

END OF THE FIFTH BOOK