“Sir, I am here now but for a while, I must leave instantly.”
“Where are you going?”
John de Witt crossed to his father’s chair.
“The Prince leaves for the Army to-morrow, sir, and I think it desirable that I should see him first.”
Jacob de Witt sighed.
“To the end,” his son added, “that no private bitterness may endanger our safety—His Highness must know that I shall second him with my whole power.”
“He knows that already.”
“I have not seen him,” John de Witt answered slowly, “since he was invested with the Captain Generalship—he is surrounded by those who are no friends to me. There must be some understanding between us,” he repeated anxiously—“some understanding.”
The old man straightened himself in his chair, his dim eyes seemed to gather fire—
“What understanding can there be between you and this young man, John? Son of a bad House, of the cursed Stewarts and the arrogant Nassau, he is a born tyrant, like his father—woe to us if he triumph——”