“But if they threaten others?” he replied. “For instance, your papa, the Earl.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” I laughed; but in my breast there was no levity. “A peer of the realm!”
“He is not to blame for being that,” he answered, slyly, “and they will not the less respect him for it I am sure. And what of Derwentwater, Kenmare, Nithsdale in the late rebellion?”
Being properly hipped on this, I tried new tactics.
“Ah, I see,” says I, “you wish to play at Hero, do you? Want a pretext to make the world ring by your devotion to a lady’s little finger. A truce, boy, to these palpable devices.”
He coloured high. Ridicule is the sovereign remedy for poetic notions in the young. He merely sniffed my black draught, however, and flung it from him.
“Very shrewd of you,” says he, “but I never was afraid of being laughed at.”
I turned to Emblem with a frank amazement.
“Go you for a bodkin, girl, and I will prick him with it, for I would fain discover if this child of ours is actually made of blood and flesh. Not afraid of being laughed at!”
Straight I fell into a peal to prove how monstrously he lied. He chewed his lip, and struggled to cover up his very evident vexation.