“They are at this moment in the muniment room of the tower of Mowbray Castle.”

“Keep them; this action is a feint.”

As for Mr. Baptist Hatton, the next time we see him a few months had elapsed.  He is at the principal hotel in Mowbray in consultation with Stephen Morley.

A great labour demonstration had taken place the previous night on the moors outside the town, and Gerard had been acclaimed as a popular hero.

“Documents are in existence,” said Hatton, “which prove the title of Walter Gerard to the proprietorship of this great district.  Two hundred thousand human beings yesterday acknowledged the supremacy of Gerard.  Suppose they had known that within the walls of Mowbray Castle were contained the proofs that Walter Gerard was the lawful possessor of the lands on which they live?  Moral force is a fine thing, friend Morley, but the public spirit is inflamed here.  You are a leader of the people.  Let us have another meeting on the Moor! you can put your fingers in a trice on the man who will do our work.  Mowbray Castle in their possession, a certain iron chest, painted blue, and blazoned with the shield of Valence, would be delivered to you.  You shall have L10,000 down and I will take you back to London besides.”

“The effort would fail,” said Stephen Morley.  “Wages must drop still more, and the discontent here be deeper.  But I will keep the secret; I will treasure it up.”

V.—­Liberty—­At a Price

While Mr. Baptist Hatton and Stephen Morley discussed the possible recovery of the papers, much happened in London.  Gerard became a marked man in the Chartist Convention, a member of a small but resolute committee.  Egremont, now deeply in love with Sybil, declared his suit.

“From the first moment I beheld you in the starlit arch of Marney, your image has never been absent from my consciousness.  Do not reject my love; it is deep as your nature, and fervent as my own.  Banish those prejudices that have embittered your existence.  If I be a noble, I have none of the accidents of nobility.  I cannot offer you wealth, splendour, and power; but I can offer you the devotion of an entranced being, aspirations that you shall guide, an ambition that you shall govern.”

“These words are mystical and wild,” said Sybil in amazement.  “You are Lord Marney’s brother; I learnt it but yesterday.  Retain your hand, and share your life and fortunes!  You forget what I am.  No, no, kind friend—­for such I’ll call you—­your opinion of me touches me deeply.  I am not used to such passages in life.  A union between the child and brother of nobles and a daughter of the people is impossible.  It would mean estrangement from your family, their hopes destroyed, their pride outraged.  Believe me, the gulf is impassable.”

The Chartist petition was rejected by the House of Commons contemptuously.  Riots took place in Birmingham.  Sybil grew anxious for her father’s safety.