have kept this a proud country for many hundreds of years, without even
listening? Remember that if I speak at Manchester the things that are
in my heart, this country, for your time and mine, must perish. Of that
I am sure. That has been made clear to me. Do you wonder, Julia, that,
before I take that last step, I lift every stone, I turn over every
page, I listen to every word which may be spoken by those who have the
right to speak? That is why I am here. On Monday morning I leave. On
Monday night I speak to the people in Manchester."

She listened to him very much as a prisoner at the bar might listen to a
judge who reasons before he pronounces sentence, and her face became as
the face of that prisoner might become, who detects some leniency of
tone, some softening of manner, on the part of the arbiter of his fate.
She ceased to tremble, her lips relaxed, her eyes grew softer and
softer. She came a step nearer, resting her finger-tips upon a little
table, her body leaning towards him. He had a queer vision of her for a
moment--no longer the prophetess, a touch of the Delilah in the soft
sweetness of her eyes.

"Oh, forgive me!" she begged. "I was foolish. Forgive me!"

He smiled at her reassuringly.

"There is nothing to forgive," he insisted. "You asked for an
explanation to which you had a right. I have tried to give it to you.
Indeed, Julia, you need have no fear. Whatever I decide in life will be
what I think best for our cause."

The shadow of fear once more trembled in her tone.