"There is no hope of a pardon now," proceeded Juggins. "I am not altogether without influence, and I had hoped— But 'tis doubly hopeless. If you were Scots or Irish, it might be done. But few of the English gentry besides you and Master Charles rose in the '19. You are a marked man, and with your cousin's interest against you 'twill be impossible even to gain a hearing for you."
"There is naught to do, then, save go back to France and the friends who now distrust me," I said bitterly.
"Never say so," remonstrated Master Juggins with energy. "I have an idea of another course which may commend itself to you. Come, don these poor garments, which will none the less cloak you with safety, and join me in granny's morningroom."
The coffee which the old lady poured us in blue-bordered china bowls put new life and hope in me. I settled back in my chair, heedless of my baggy breeches and woolen stockings, and puffed at the long clay pipe which Juggins had filled for me.
Granny Juggins gave me an approving pat on the shoulder.
"That is well, Master Harry. Worry never solved any difficulty. And now I must be going about my duties; but remember that what Robert tells you hath my endorsement."
"And what is that?" I inquired in some curiosity as the door closed behind her.
He smoked in silence for several moments.
"I am resolved to take you fully into my confidence, Master Harry," he began at last, "and I should not do so if I doubted your discretion."
"I shall strive to justify your trust," I said.