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Save for Lady Kingswood and her own household staff, she saw no one, and was not accessible even to Don Aloysius, who called several times, moved not only by interest, but genuine curiosity, to enquire how she fared.
"My dear child, if you are making a sort of allegory on your wealth, you are not 'out of the valley' nor are you likely to be!" Morgana sighed. "My vulgar wealth!" she murmured. "What? Vulgar?" "Yes. A man told me it was." "A vulgar man himself, I should imagine!" said Lady Kingswood, warmly. Morgana shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "Oh, no, he isn't. He's eccentric, but not vulgar.
"I saw the air-ship flying over the monastery," he explained, greeting her "And I was anxious to know whether la Signora had gone away into the skies or was still on earth! She has gone, I suppose?" "Yes, she has gone!" sighed Lady Kingswood "and the Marchese with her, and one assistant. Her 'nerve' is simply astonishing!"
It was an entirely new experience then for English men and women of the humblest class, and of that generation, to be addressed in great open-air masses by renowned and powerful preachers. Whitefield's first great effort at field-preaching was made for the benefit of the colliers at Kingswood, near Bristol. Before many weeks had gone by, he could gather round him some twenty thousand of these men.
He recognised that Lady Kingswood belonged to the ordinary class of good, kindly women not overburdened with brains, to whom thought, particularly of a scientific or reflective nature, would be a kind of physical suffering. And how fortunate it is that there are, and always will be such women!
The whole affair was fantastic; it was unreal, in addition to being silly. But, real or unreal, he would finish it. If he was a phantom and Kingswood a mirage, the phantom would reach the mirage or sink senseless into astral mud. He had Colonel Hullocher in mind, and, quite illogically, he envisaged the Colonel as a reality.
These were put into the hands of the greatest ruffians that the city of Bristol, and the neighbourhood of Cock-road and Kingswood, could furnish at so short a notice.
"Marchese, I 'assume' nothing!" she answered "I cannot 'pretend'! To 'assume' or to 'pretend' would hardly serve the Creator adequately. Creative or Natural Force is so far away from sham that one must do more than 'assume' one must BE!" Her voice thrilled on the air, and Lady Kingswood, who was crossing the loggia, leaning on her stick, paused to look at the eloquent speaker.
He called him in his Journal "that weak man, John Cennick"; he accused him of having ruined the society at Kingswood; he was disgusted when he heard that he had become a Moravian; and now he turned him out of Skinner's Alley by the simple process of negotiating privately with the owner of the property, and buying the building over Cennick's head.
"I cannot forgive your putting yourself into danger," said Rivardi "You ran a great risk you must pardon me if I hold your life too valuable to be lightly lost." "It is good of you to think it valuable," and her wonderful blue eyes were suddenly shadowed with sadness "To me it is valueless." "My dear!" exclaimed Lady Kingswood "How can you say such a thing!"
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