"Because the matter was for your Majesty's own ear," replied Richard Newark, somewhat abruptly. "We do not give an apple to one boy to hand it to another, for fear he should eat it himself."
The King laughed good-humouredly, and proceeded to read the first sheet, which, beginning at the bottom of the first page, and ending at the top of the fourth page, did not seem to contain much matter. Whatever that matter was, it seemed to give the King great satisfaction. "That is good; that is very good," he said. "He is an invaluable man. We shall know how to honour him. All is safe in that quarter." He then turned to the other sheet, and his face instantly changed.
"Ha!" he said, with a curling lip, and an irritable eye "More about this Lord Eskdale! He joined the rebels wittingly, adhered to them till the last moment, was taken with arms in his hands, and he must die. I have signed the warrant."
"Then kill me first, sir," rejoined Richard Newark, bluffly, "for I first helped to engage him in the rebellion; and, had it not been for his advice, I should never have quitted it. He went against his own will, as your Majesty will see if you read; and, if he dies, it will be as a bird that is caught in a trap because he was deceived by the baits set for him. Your Majesty cannot understand till you read, any more than I can see through that wall; for there is a great deal beyond your sight or mine, unless a door be opened for each of us to look through."
The King gazed at him for a moment in utter surprise, as if completely astounded by the lad's impudence; but gradually a sense of the justice of what he had heard seemed to overpower the slight sense of anger; and, without answering a syllable, he turned his eyes to the paper, and proceeded to read it to the very end. When he had done so, the expression of his countenance was again greatly changed; a hesitating and embarrassed look came upon his face. He put his finger under his large wig, rubbed his temple, and pulled up one of his stockings, which had somewhat slipped down the leg, and most likely tickled his shin; then, turning to another gentleman present, he said, "Come with me, Mr. Walpole--come with me, my Lord. I will go to my cabinet for a moment."
Thus saying, he took two steps towards the door by which he had entered, but then turned a sharp glance upon Richard Newark, who was standing by with a vacant air, looking down at the hilt of his sword. It was the same sword which Smeaton had given to him.
The monarch's look was certainly not very placable at first; but something seemed to touch the risible organs in his brain or heart--wherever they may lie--and we all know that in those organs a great deal of the milk of human kindness is secreted. He laughed, low but gaily, and said--
"Get away, sir, get away. Lord Stair has trusted his letters to a somewhat indiscreet messenger."
"The best in the world could not have done better, your Majesty," replied Richard Newark, boldly; "for he has delivered them safely into the best hands in the realm."
If he meant it, nothing could have been more dexterous than his reply. It was a compliment, slightly veiled under a rudeness. But I very much doubt whether he did mean it. However, King George smiled most graciously, saying: