'"Oh Bessie, don't you see? In the first place, you had no right to hear this, much less to tell me about it; and I cannot help feeling as if we were doing something dishonourable and underhand in knowing it at all. Besides, as the man himself said, this is no child's play. It seems to me that it must be a really weighty secret, which may bring Madame St. Aubert, and perhaps even us, into trouble some day."
'"Nonsense!" Bessie broke in impatiently; "you always were so discreet and cautious, Henrietta. 'Tis a marvel to me how you can talk in such a cold, selfish, heartless way. Why, even if it were to bring us into trouble—which is not likely at all—I should be proud to go through a little danger for such a cause."
'"Such a cause!" repeated Henrietta, with a slightly sarcastic smile. "Well, I don't know," she continued relapsing into her peculiarly low, deliberate tone; "but even if the cause were a right one, I should think another civil war would do more harm than good. My father has often told me stories about the last, and what he and my grandmother used to go through; and I do not want another to come in my time. No, Bessie, I call your tidings anything but glorious."
'"My dear Henrietta, I do not believe there will be a civil war at all. Depend upon it, all the country will flock to join the Duke of Monmouth. He is so much more popular than the King; and he is brave and handsome, and his manners are so gracious. Besides, he is going to defend the Protestant religion; and it is a well-known thing that King James wants to turn us all into Papists, and make bonfires of every body, just as cruel Queen Mary did."
'Henrietta knitted her forehead, in order, I suppose, the better to ponder the subject; and slowly plucked to pieces, leaf by leaf, a York and Lancaster rose that she wore in her sash.
'"I suppose," she said at length, with a little sigh, as she raised her head, "that, in truth, neither of us knows much about the matter. We only think as we have been taught to think at home. All I know is, what my father used to say about the Duke of Monmouth,—that he has no right to the throne whatever, and that, even if he were to get it, he has not wit enough to keep it; and also, that he is a bad, unprincipled man, who cares as little for the Protestant faith as for any other."
'"Then your father judges him very harshly and untruly, and can know nothing about him," cried Bessie, firing up in high indignation. "My uncle is his great friend, and I have often heard him say that the Duke of Monmouth is a stanch Protestant, and a man of honour, and far more noble and princely than the King."
'To this Henrietta made no reply, and at first I thought she was offended, and going off wrathfully without another word, for she turned away and moved a few steps up the shrubbery; then, after a moment's hesitation, she came back and laid her hand upon Bessie's arm.
'"Listen to me, Bess. I don't wish to quarrel about the Duke of Monmouth or anybody else; but in this we shall agree, I warrant: Madame St. Aubert ought to be told that we have found out this secret of hers. I am heartily sorry that you chanced to overhear it; but, since we have discovered it, and in this way too (which is a somewhat crooked one, I must say), I think the only straightforward thing to do is to go at once and tell her simply what we know, and how we knew it."
'Bessie opened her eyes very wide, and turned them with a quick, startled look upon Henrietta. "Well, I am ready," she said, the next moment, making up her mind, as usual, without the smallest hesitation. "You are quite right, Henrietta. It is but fair that Madame should know. It was shameful in me not to have spoken to her at the time. Come, Frances, we will go to her at once, and tell her that the Duke of Monmouth's secret is safe, at least as far as you and I are concerned;" and Bessie drew up her head proudly, and, throwing her arm round my waist, marched majestically through The Wilderness with a sort of defiant air, as if prepared to undertake the Duke of Monmouth's defence against his enemies in general, and Henrietta in particular. I, for my part, stepped along by Bessie's side, trying to look equally fearless and defiant, and feeling ready to stand by her through thick and thin; for we two were great friends, notwithstanding the five years' difference in our ages. As to the right or wrong of the question, I did not bestow a thought upon that, my ideas upon politics being vague to the last degree. I suppose no child in the kingdom, at that time, knew less about the events taking place in it than I did. I had seldom or never heard political subjects discussed at home, for mamma certainly hardly ever talked of them, and, I fancy, thought very little about them either; and even when my father was at Horsemandown, I saw so little of him or his friends that I had not the remotest notion as to what his opinions were. However, I was fond of Bessie, and Bessie believed in the Duke of Monmouth,—and that was enough for me; so I made up my mind to believe in him too. Nevertheless, I could not quite get rid of the impression which Henrietta's words had made. She had never been in the habit of taking much notice of me, or indeed of any of the younger girls; and we used to laugh at her languid, sleepy manner, and declare that Henrietta had no feelings—that the shock of an earthquake, or news that the great plague had broken out again in Taunton, would scarcely make her take the trouble of lifting her eyes from her book, or rising from her chair. I daresay she was quite aware of these jokes of ours, and that they did not help to make her less cold and indifferent towards us; but, for all this, one of Henrietta's quiet, lazily spoken remarks had often more weight with us than the most decided and strongly expressed opinions of the other girls. I looked back at her as she walked behind Bessie and me up the shrubbery. She was grave, and rather white, and though she had urged us to make this confession to Madame St. Aubert, I saw that she was going with intense reluctance, and entirely because she considered it a matter of honour and duty.