Monteagle's position was truly equivocal. The son of a Protestant peer, through his marriage, early in life, with the daughter of a Catholic, he became involved in certain Papistic plots, and listened to the teachings of the missionary priests. James had made him the recipient of many court favors, for the maintenance of which, Monteagle, balancing the advantages of his position against the loss which might accrue to him were he to boldly adhere to his religion, had become lukewarm in the faith of the Catholics, and this had brought him into disrepute with his old associates.
"'Tis a grave matter that there be any in England whose faith takes precedence of their loyalty," said he, the King ceasing his harangue through lack of breath.
"Thou sayest rightly!" cried he, "nor will I abate one jot or tittle from that I have set before me. As it is atheism and blasphemy to dispute what is in God's power, so it is presumption and high contempt for a subject to question a king's will; nor should a king abate even the breadth of a hair from that right which his prerogative gives unto him."
The Viscount Effingston pulled his father's sleeve.
"We had best retire," he whispered, "the wine hath mounted to the head of yonder fool, and, perchance, he may see in thee a Raleigh or a Cobham."
The King was, indeed, weary of the interview. The exertion of the afternoon, the heated room, the wine and the ill temper into which he had fallen, deprived him of his usual wit, leaving him only boorish and irritable.
"My lord Monteagle," said he, peevishly, "it pleases me that you retire, for a certain languor of the body rendereth our discourse unprofitable."
The words of his son had startled the nobleman from his usual composure, and receiving the King's permission to retire, he made haste to kiss the royal hand, well pleased that the audience was ended, although certain favors which he desired to ask of his Majesty remained unspoken.
"Faith!" said the favorite, as the two peers passed his hiding place, "I have, indeed, had a most fortunate escape, for James is in poor condition to discuss even with Robert Carr, that which sent him hither."
Then, as the King's valets crowded into the chamber, summoned by the furious ringing of their master's bell, he looked for an instant upon the half-drunken monarch, dropped the curtain and hastened down the corridor that he might relate to Mistress Vaux that which he had overheard.