"I have heard many people say that, my lord," answered the young duke, "and I have allowed myself to be too long persuaded. I cannot and I will not stay at Court."
Sunderland gazed at him steadily out of his long, clear eyes.
"You only give colour to the disclosures of Sir John Fenwick, which every one disbelieved. And no one more strongly than His Majesty."
"I bear the taint—the imputation," muttered Shrewsbury. "I cannot and will not endure it. My position is insupportable."
"Marlborough and Russell are in the same position, and find it easy enough to bear," said Sunderland quietly.
The Duke answered with some pride—
"I am not such as they. They act from their standards—I from mine."
He thought, and might have added, that he was not such as the man to whom he spoke. Sunderland was stained with treacheries, disloyalties, corrupt practices, and shameless false-dealing, the very least of which were more than the one lapse that was wearing Shrewsbury to misery with remorse.
The Earl took another tone.
"Think of the King. You call yourself friend to him; he is as harrassed now as he ever was before the war. He hath not too many men to help him—the Tories grow in strength every day. You have been of great service to His Majesty—the greatest in '88. Will you forsake him now—when he needeth you most?"