“Are you mad? Do you know where you are?” cried Frank, catching him by the arm.
“Not mad, and I know perfectly where I am. Look here, Frank; there must be no more nonsense. I tell you the time has come to strike. Our friends have landed, or are about to land. There is going to be a complete revolution, and before many hours the House of Hanover will be a thing of the past, and the rightful monarch of the House of Stuart will be on the throne.”
“Then you are mad,” said Frank, with another uneasy glance at the curtained door beyond where they stood, “or you would never talk like this.”
“I shall talk how I please now,” cried the lad excitedly. “Let them do their worst. I feel ready to wait till the Prince comes out, and then draw my sword and shout, ‘God save King James the Third!’”
“No, you are not. You would not so insult one who has always behaved well to you.”
“Bah! I am nobody. I don’t count. How have he and his behaved to my poor father and to yours? Frank, I know I’m wildly excited, and feel intoxicated by the joyful news; but I know what I am talking about, and I will not have you behave in this miserable, cold-blooded way, when our fathers are just about to receive their freedom and come back to their rights.”
“It’s no use to argue with you when you’re in this state,” said Frank coldly; “but I won’t sit here and have you say things which may lead to your being punished. I should be a poor sort of friend if I did.”
“Pah! Have you no warm blood in you, that you sit there as cool as a frog when I bring you such glorious news?”
“It isn’t glorious,” said Frank. “It means horrible bloodshed, ruin, and disaster to hundreds or thousands of misguided men.”
“Misguided! Do you know what you are talking about?”