"Aye, whiles we be swallowing of it. But if thou wouldst make thy physic specially bitter, the way is to look thereon a while aforehand, and feed thy fantasy with the bitterness thereof, and swallow the same grudgingly at last."
Lawrence smiled.
"Aye me!" said Mr. Robesart, sadly. "For every time that we say to God with our lips, 'Fiat voluntas tua' how many times do we say to Him with our hearts, 'Fiat voluntas mea!' Nay, at times we pass a step further yet, and say, 'Do Thou my will!' May God save thee and me from that rank treason against our heavenly King! We be all likely to fall therein. And yet His will is for our best welfare—our sanctification here, our bliss hereafter; and our will is but for present ease and passing pleasure. Lord, teach us to do Thy will!"
The same evening, a horn sounded without the gate, and the Earl of Ormonde was announced in the hall of Trim Castle. Roger, who was playing chess with one of his knights, rose to meet his kinsman, a man ten years older than himself.
"Fair fall your Lordship in your light battle to-night!" said Ormonde, with a rather grim smile and a glance at the chess-board. "If you be of my mind, we shall find somewhat heavier work to-morrow."
"Truly, what mean you, fair Cousin?"
"The O'Brien is up, my Lord: and that means work for me—and for you, if you will have with me."
"Have with you? Aye, with all my heart!" returned the Viceroy, with a flash in his eyes. "The O'Brien! ungrateful traitor! was it for this the King knighted him in Dublin Cathedral? Howbeit, you and I shall soon bring him to book, and without tumult, I would fain hope."
"Your Pandora hath her coffer a good size," answered Ormonde, with the same grim smile.
"You think my hopes be over-great, trow?"