"Good Monteagle!" cried he, "thy son is a worthy gentleman, and methinks our reign will see him a most favored peer. Instruct him, that he fall not into certain habits as to bells and candlesticks, nor give ear too seriously to the teachings of them who would embroil our kingdom."
At this moment Robert Carr, hastening to the royal bed chamber, in order to obey the wishes of Mistress Vaux, entered the ante-room and hearing his master in converse with others, paused noiselessly behind the curtains.
"Faith!" continued James, receiving no reply from Monteagle or his son, "it is rumored that thou also hath dealt somewhat closely with these disturbers of the kingdom."
Alarmed at the character of the conversation assumed by the King, the nobleman would have checked it by well timed flattery, but James was not to be turned from his purpose.
"It doth much annoy me," prated he, "that certain reports are spread abroad making it seem my desire, against the wishes of our good Parliament, to remit certain fines——"
Carr, whose ear was pressed close against the curtain, rubbed his hands together in exultation that there was like to be, without discomfort to himself, something ready for the ear of the Queen's waiting woman.
"And divers statutes against those who would bring back the Jesuits," continued James, plucking impatiently the fringe of his couch cover.
"Your Majesty is, in truth, the spring of justice," said Monteagle, soberly, "and it ill befits thy subjects, be they Puritans or Catholics, to——"
A wave of passion swept across the royal face.
"Puritans and Catholics!" cried he, sitting upright. "Zounds! What then? Am I not king? Wherefore should I tolerate in this good kingdom those who teach treason in their churches?"