The second was a youth of singular sweetness of expression and delicacy of feature, plainly dressed in grey; the charm of his appearance was marred solely by a black silk patch which he wore over his left eye; he was staring at the water with a melancholy air, and now and then sighed; this was Charles Talbot, eleventh Earl of Shrewsbury, dismissed last year from the army and the Lord-Lieutenancy of Staffordshire for refusing to abjure his religion; he had mortgaged his estates for £40,000, which was now at the Bank of Amsterdam at the service of the Prince. He was for the moment but one of the many refugees at The Hague.
The third was by far the most remarkable, and bore most signs of greatness: young, though a little older than the Earl, he was not, perhaps, half the height, being hunch-shouldered to a deformity, and thin and meagre in body; his face, livid and lined with disease, wore a sparkling expression of energy, his eyes, large, noble, and ever changing in expression with a kind of restless animation, scorn, impatience, and dare-devilry; even now, when standing still, he thrummed with his fingers on the railing and whistled 'Lillibulero' under his breath.
He was that Lord Mordaunt whose fiery, careless courage had urged this expedition on the Prince a year ago.
Fretting under the languor and idleness engendered by the beautiful late afternoon and the serene fair prospect, he proceeded to lead his companions out of the silence to which they were so obviously inclined.
"Where will the Prince land, eh, my lord?" he asked of Shrewsbury. "In the south-west or the north-east?"
He knew that my lord could not know what was not yet decided, but the question served to break the pause.
"Why, 'tis even what they argue about," answered the Earl. "Lord Dunblaine was with His Highness yesterday, and gave as his father's advice that we should choose the north, because 'tis so easy to obtain horses in Yorkshire——"
"Or because my Lord Danby," sneered Mordaunt, "hath such a pull in that county that he hopeth to get His Highness into his hands."
"The Prince is very secret," said Mr. Fletcher.
"He listeneth to all and agreeth with none," answered my Lord Mordaunt.