"The true religion is, my lord."
"And that"s ours," he rejoined, moving uneasily in his seat, andbiting his nails as though he would pare them to the quick. "Therecan be no doubt of ours being the true one. You feel as certain ofthat as I do, Gashford, don"t you?"
"Does my lord ask ME," whined Gashford, drawing his chair nearerwith an injured air, and laying his broad flat hand upon the table;"ME," he repeated, bending the dark hollows of his eyes upon himwith an unwholesome smile, "who, stricken by the magic of hiseloquence in Scotland but a year ago, abjured the errors of theRomish church, and clung to him as one whose timely hand hadplucked me from a pit?"
"True. No--No. I--I didn"t mean it," replied the other, shakinghim by the hand, rising from his seat, and pacing restlessly aboutthe room. "It"s a proud thing to lead the people, Gashford," headded as he made a sudden halt.
"By force of reason too," returned the pliant secretary.
"Ay, to be sure. They may cough and jeer, and groan in Parliament,and call me fool and madman, but which of them can raise this humansea and make it swell and roar at pleasure? Not one."
"Not one," repeated Gashford.
"Which of them can say for his honesty, what I can say for mine;which of them has refused a minister"s bribe of one thousandpounds a year, to resign his seat in favour of another? Not one."
"Not one," repeated Gashford again--taking the lion"s share of themulled wine between whiles.
"And as we are honest, true, and in a sacred cause, Gashford," saidLord George with a heightened colour and in a louder voice, as helaid his fevered hand upon his shoulder, "and are the only men whoregard the mass of people out of doors, or are regarded by them, wewill uphold them to the last; and will raise a cry against theseun-English Papists which shall re-echo through the country, androll with a noise like thunder. I will be worthy of the motto onmy coat of arms, "Called and chosen and faithful.""Called," said the secretary, "by Heaven."
"I am."
"Chosen by the people."
"Yes."
"Faithful to both."
"To the block!"
It would be difficult to convey an adequate idea of the excitedmanner in which he gave these answers to the secretary"spromptings; of the rapidity of his utterance, or the violence ofhis tone and gesture; in which, struggling through his Puritan"sdemeanour, was something wild and ungovernable which broke throughall restraint. For some minutes he walked rapidly up and down theroom, then stopping suddenly, exclaimed,"Gashford--YOU moved them yesterday too. Oh yes! You did."
"I shone with a reflected light, my lord," replied the humblesecretary, laying his hand upon his heart. "I did my best."
"You did well," said his master, "and are a great and worthyinstrument. If you will ring for John Grueby to carry theportmanteau into my room, and will wait here while I undress, wewill dispose of business as usual, if you"re not too tired."
"Too tired, my lord!--But this is his consideration! Christianfrom head to foot." With which soliloquy, the secretary tilted thejug, and looked very hard into the mulled wine, to see how muchremained.
John Willet and John Grueby appeared together. The one bearing thegreat candlesticks, and the other the portmanteau, showed thedeluded lord into his chamber; and left the secretary alone, toyawn and shake himself, and finally to fall asleep before the fire.
"Now, Mr Gashford sir," said John Grueby in his ear, after whatappeared to him a moment of unconsciousness; "my lord"s abed."
"Oh. Very good, John," was his mild reply. "Thank you, John.
Nobody need sit up. I know my room."
"I hope you"re not a-going to trouble your head to-night, or mylord"s head neither, with anything more about Bloody Mary," saidJohn. "I wish the blessed old creetur had never been born."
"I said you might go to bed, John," returned the secretary. "Youdidn"t hear me, I think."
"Between Bloody Marys, and blue cockades, and glorious QueenBesses, and no Poperys, and Protestant associations, and making ofspeeches," pursued John Grueby, looking, as usual, a long way off,and taking no notice of this hint, "my lord"s half off his head.
When we go out o" doors, such a set of ragamuffins comes a-shouting after us, "Gordon forever!" that I"m ashamed of myselfand don"t know where to look. When we"re indoors, they come a-roaring and screaming about the house like so many devils; and mylord instead of ordering them to be drove away, goes out into thebalcony and demeans himself by making speeches to "em, and calls"em "Men of England," and "Fellow-countrymen," as if he was fond of"em and thanked "em for coming. I can"t make it out, but they"reall mixed up somehow or another with that unfort"nate Bloody Mary,and call her name out till they"re hoarse. They"re all Protestantstoo--every man and boy among "em: and Protestants are very fond ofspoons, I find, and silver-plate in general, whenever area-gates isleft open accidentally. I wish that was the worst of it, and thatno more harm might be to come; but if you don"t stop these uglycustomers in time, Mr Gashford (and I know you; you"re the man thatblows the fire), you"ll find "em grow a little bit too strong foryou. One of these evenings, when the weather gets warmer andProtestants are thirsty, they"ll be pulling London down,--and Inever heard that Bloody Mary went as far as THAT."
Gashford had vanished long ago, and these remarks had been bestowedon empty air. Not at all discomposed by the discovery, John Gruebyfixed his hat on, wrongside foremost that he might be unconsciousof the shadow of the obnoxious cockade, and withdrew to bed;shaking his head in a very gloomy and prophetic manner until hereached his chamber.