The Duke of Monmouth (for he it was) did not press the subject by any means far, seeming to feel it beneath him to canvass for the aid of any individual. He might know, too, that much eagerness displays small confidence; and at this moment of his career it was a part of Monmouth's policy to appear full of good assurance.
He returned to the small room below, then, after commenting in the tone of a connoisseur upon some of the pictures, and in that of a gay courtier upon others, and finding writing materials ready, sat down and wrote a few lines upon a sheet of paper, in which he inclosed another letter he had brought with him. He sealed and then addressed the whole to "Hortensia, Baroness Danvers;" and then placing it in Ralph's hand, he said, with a gay smile, "I will trust this to your good care for speedy delivery, sir. If you be a lover, it comes from no rival; if you be a friend, it comes from a friend no less sincere; if you be a relation, there are lines within it from one who has loved the person addressed as sincerely as any relative could love. Nay, my good sir," he continued, turning to Mr. Drayton, who entered, followed by several servants bearing food in a rich service of plate, "you treat my humble state too royally; but the time may come when I can acknowledge your courtesy better. Mr. Woodhall, will you partake?"
The duke's breakfast was not half concluded, when one of his followers, from without, came in suddenly and without ceremony, and spoke a word to Monmouth in a low tone over the back of his chair.
The duke started up, and gazed at him for an instant with a look of horror and consternation.
"What!" he exclaimed; "what did you say? shot Thomas Dare--in the streets of Lyme--on a dispute about a horse?"
"Too true, indeed, your grace," replied the other; "shot him dead; the ball passed through his brain."
"By the Lord that lives!" cried Monmouth, "these turbulent men shall find that he who claims to rule a realm like this, can at least rule a handful who pretend to obey. Have out the horses there! I must not lose a moment."
Ever energetic, and often right, in purpose, Monmouth hurried to depart, only to show how weak he could be in act, how amenable to the weak counsels of others. Brave as a lion in the field--often timid in the council--not without skill as the general--ever misled as the politician and the man.
As, about to mount his horse, he turned away from the door, he looked round to Ralph with a pleasant smile, saying, "Remember my commission--I trust to you."
"I will not fail, your grace," replied Ralph.