"Perchance so, Madam. Indeed, I know there be some that do think King Charles the First safe—in Heaven, I mean. God grant it! I only know that he was a deceitful man, and an uncovenanted King."
"I have always heard him called a martyr, Patient."
"He was not that!" said Patient, less calmly than usual. "At least, not if a martyr be a witness for the Lord's truth. Did he not try to force Prelacy upon Scotland? Call such a man a martyr! A martyr to Prelacy, forsooth! a martyr to deceit, and broken faith, and cruel oppression! We were the martyrs, Madam." And Patient shut a drawer wrathfully, for her.
"I don't know much about it, Patient," said Celia, honestly. "I have been taught to believe that King Charles was a good and misfortunate man. But now I can hardly tell what to believe among you all. My—Squire Passmore thinks that King Charles was a good man and a martyr, yet calls this man the Pretender, and will scarce hear him named with patience. My step-mother thinks them both good; and you think them both bad. I cannot tell what to think."
Celia came from the window as Lady Ingram entered the room.
"Patient," she said, "lay out Mrs. Celia's new court-dress on the bed—you know which it is. My dear, this afternoon I will lead you to kiss the Queen's hand. Your manners are slightly improved, and I wish you to show respect to the Court."
"Very well, Madam," resignedly answered Celia.
"You will enter behind me; stop, and go forward, when I do. When I draw aside, come forward, kneel, and kiss the Queen's hand when she offers it. Should she speak to you, remain kneeling while you answer, unless she command you to rise. If she do not speak, rise, draw to one side, as I shall have done, and stand there."
"Yes, Madam."
"Do not look about you: keep your eyes on the Queen. Don't look awkward. Be self-possessed."