"I know," he went on, "that many hope for the death of Cromwell. Well, that may happen any day, and then what shall we see? In all probability Oliver will make provision whereby his son shall take his place. But even if he doth not, and Charles were to come back, would such as I be benefited? Would the new king see to it that my estates were restored to me? The new King Charles would be the son of the old King Charles. The new king would be a Stuart, and never again can I trust a Stuart."
"Is there no hope then?" I asked despondently, for the constant repetition of such speeches had made me believe that no man was to be trusted.
"There is no hope except you can get men in your power," replied my father.
"In my power?" I repeated, for I scarce knew what he meant.
"Ay, in your power, Roland. There is a secret in most men's lives. If you can find that secret, you are a force to be reckoned with. You then have the means whereby you can fight your way into position. Look here. Charles Stuart is now in France. Supposing Oliver Cromwell were to die, and the people, tired of Puritan rule, were to welcome him back to the kingdom. Do you think he would remember that I, Philip Rashcliffe, am impoverished by fighting for his father? If I went to him, and said, 'Sire, I have scarce a horse to ride on, scarce a crown to put in my purse; I have lost all through fighting for your father's throne,' do you think he would cause the Rashcliffe lands to be restored? Nay, he would say, aloud, 'Master Rashcliffe, we will look into this matter, and you may trust us to see that justice shall be done;' but to himself he would say, 'What is there to be gained by doing aught for this man? He is plain and blunt, and I shall gain nought by troubling about him. Besides, there be a hundred others who come with the same tale. Let me to my wine.' Ay, but if Charles discovered that I knew something which affected him deeply, then would he for self-preservation desire to do me justice."
"But that would be blackmailing," I cried.
"Nay, it would not; it would be simply using the means at my disposal for getting back my own."
"Know you of aught, that you say this?" I asked, at which my father shook his head.
It will be seen from this that I was taught to trust no man or party. Moreover, as the years went by my father influenced me by his own desponding views, so that I, unlike most youths, felt no ardour for any cause, and believed but little in any man. As to women, I knew nothing of them, for, besides our kitchen wenches and servant maids, scarcely a woman ever entered Rashcliffe Manor. My father desired no company, and even if he had so desired, he was too poor to give hospitality in a way befitting his station. As for myself I was too proud to seek acquaintance among those of lower degree than myself, while those of my own rank had, through my father's seclusion, shut their doors against his son. Thus I knew nought of women. I believed that, poor as I was, no woman of name and fortune would deign to notice me, and it was not for my father's son to go unbidden to the houses of those who still retained their wealth.
Presently Oliver Cromwell died, and I thought my father seemed to be possessed of new hope; but when Richard, his son, was chosen Lord Protector in his place, he simply shrugged his shoulders like a Frenchman, and said that the country was not yet tired of psalm-singing. During the months that followed he went often to London, in order, as he said, to find out what Monk and Lambert were doing, and when at length Richard Cromwell ceased to be Lord Protector, he grimly remarked that we "should soon see gay doings."