if seeking amidst the multitude one especial form. It is even so; and as they roam the sea of faces, all turned to his, they are suddenly brought to a standstill. The anxious, searching look within them dies away, giving place to one of calm contentment and repose, for Speranza is there.
The mother’s eyes are fixed upon her child. Through the filmy distance of space cannot Gloria perceive this well? For a moment, one brief moment, the hero of the hour is Gloriana de Lara, in the next, he is Hector D’Estrange. The audience is still cheering,—it seems as though it will never cease,— but he has raised his hand, and like magic a great silence falls.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, and the clear, exquisite voice thrills through the huge building, “I shall have a few words to say to you before I declare the Hall of Liberty open, but first we will witness the march past of the representatives of all the companies of the Women’s Volunteer force of which I have the honour to be Commander-in-Chief.”
A flourish of trumpets and loud cheering greets this announcement. Once more the great entrance doors unfold, the band of the White Regiment strikes up a march, as through the portals, ten abreast, and mounted on grey horses, that regiment advances at a trot.
And at their head is one whom we have seen before. Very handsome she looks in her uniform of pure white cloth, with the gold facings glittering on her breast, and her sword in its silver sheath dangling sparkling at her side. Flora Desmond is not greatly changed since we saw her last, in appearance certainly, but over her life has come a wondrous transformation. She is Hector D’Estrange’s right hand, and in aiding him to carry out his noble aims is thoroughly’ in her element.
The white troopers advance at a trot rapid enough, but as each line passes the platform on which Hector D’Estrange is standing they break into a canter, increased to a gallop, whirling round the broad-spaced horse-ride in magnificent order. Looking along the serried line of horses’ heads hardly a hair’s breadth in difference can be distinguished, so compact is the position which is maintained throughout the ranks.
The march strains cease, and give way to a flourish of trumpets. Simultaneously the galloping steeds are reined on to their haunches, remaining motionless as statues. Thus they stand until the voice of Flora Desmond is heard giving the order to retreat, when they fall into position, and retire at the trot, she riding-round to join her chief on the platform.
And in this wise, headed by their respective bands and officers, representative companies of Hector D’Estrange’s two hundred regiments march or gallop past him. The ceremony occupies some two hours, but they roll by all too quickly for the spectators, who, spellbound by what they see, watch the revolving-scenes with the keenest interest.
The last one closes appropriately. Crashing and rumbling through the wide-opened entrance dash the artillery. They come on at a rapid pace, and wheeling round into the vast arena form up into splendid line. The work of detaching the horses and unlimbering the guns is that of a moment. In the next, a tremendous roar rings forth from the mouths of a score of cannon which have been rapidly charged and fired.
Ere the echoes have died away the horses are again attached, the guns as rapidly limbered up, and one by one the gun-carriages dash from the scene, the great doors closing upon them.
Then cheer after cheer rings through the densely packed building as Hector D’Estrange advances to the front of the platform to speak. But he is raising his hand once more, as though appealing to be heard, and again a great silence falls.
“We are here today,” the bright, clear ringing voice declares, “to open a building the magnitude of which cannot be measured by any other in the world. The Hall of Liberty stands here to day as a living witness to the desire of woman to be heard. It was six years ago that I first saw it in my dreams. It is reality now, and will endure through all time, as a memorial of the first great effort made by woman to shake off the chains of slavery, that ever since our knowledge of man began, have held her a prisoner in the gilded gaols of inactivity and helplessness. I stand here today prepared to deny that woman is the inferior of man, either in mental capacity or physical strength, provided always that she be given equal advantages with him. I go further still, and declare that in the former respect she is his superior. You deny it? Then give her the chance, and I have no fear but that she will prove that I have not lied. You have today seen passed in review 10,000 representatives of the 200,000 volunteers that in a little more than four years have been enrolled and drilled into the splendid efficiency witnessed on this memorable occasion. Will you pretend or seek to tell yourselves that in warfare they would be unavailing? I laugh such an idea to scorn. One of our most heart-stirring writers—I allude to Whyte–Melville—has left it declared in his writings, ‘that if a legion of Amazons could be rendered amenable to discipline they would conquer the world.’ He was right. The physical courage, of which men vaunt so much, is as nothing when compared with that greater and more magnificent virtue, ‘ moral courage,’ which women have shown that they possess in so eminent a degree over men; and hence physical courage would come as an agreeable and welcome visitor where hitherto it has been forcibly denied admission.
“Men and women who hear me today, I beseech you ponder the truth of what I have told you in your hearts. You boast of a civilisation unparalleled in the world’s history. Yet is it so? Side by side with wealth, appalling in its magnitude, stalks poverty, misery, and wrong, more appalling still. I aver that this poverty, misery, and wrong is, in a groat measure, due to the false and unnatural position awarded to woman; nor will justice, reparation, and perfection be attained until she takes her place in all things as the equal of man.
“And now, my friends, I will detain you no longer. In this great Hall of Liberty woman will find much which has long been denied her. It is but a drop in the ocean of that which is her right, yet is it a noble beginning of that which must inevitably come. I declare this Hall of Liberty to be open.”
That is all. He says no more, but with a stately inclination to the vast audience turns back to where his friends stand. His horse is led forward by a youthful orderly in the uniform of the White Regiment, and as he mounts it the band strikes up once more. Bareheaded as he entered, he rides slowly from the scene of his triumph, and passing again through the portals of the Hall of Liberty comes out into the densely, wall-lined street, amidst the roar of the thousands that are there to greet. Such is the welcome of the people to Hector D’Estrange.
VIII
LORD WESTRAY sits alone in his sanctum in Grosvenor Square. There is an anxious expression on his face, for he has been expecting some one who has not turned up. He has already consulted his watch about half-a-dozen times, and he consults it again. Then he gets up and rings the bell.
He can hear it tinkling downstairs from where he sits. “A smart servant,” he thinks to himself, “would have answered it quickly.” Yet he would think this no longer, if he could only hear “his smart servant’s” remark anent that bell.
“James,” calls out that worthy, who is seated in the room on an easy armchair in front of the fire-place, with his feet against the chimney-piece, “what bell’s that?”
“My lord’s, sir,” is the laconic reply from the lackey outside.
“Oh! ah! tha-a-anks. Let him ring again.”
The bell does peal again, this time furiously, and
Stuggins, with a face of disgust, pulls bis feet down from the chimney-piece.
“My word! what a hard time of it we have’s,” he ejaculates to himself, as he rises slowly from his seat to go upstairs.
On reaching Lord
