"I do not say so much," replied Charles. "I have said I will not be unreasonable, nor regardless in any way, of the good of the people. I will see Mr. Pym again."
"Forgive me, sire," said the Viscount, "but a temperate carriage is advisable now in all things, to keep our friends, to gain others, and to render impossible the horrid chance of bloodshed."
The King's eyes narrowed.
"They would fight, would they?" he answered. "Well, so would I—I am not fearful of that. I should know how to meet rebellion."
"Rebellion?" repeated Lord Falkland. "I do not dare to use or think that word!"
"There are some who do," said Charles dryly, "but with God's grace we will avoid that danger. Are you satisfied, my lord?"
The Viscount bowed.
"I have Your Majesty's word for those measures we believe most necessary now. I am content to leave the rest in the hands of Your Majesty."
In his heart, the Viscount, who had met much disillusion and disappointment since he had joined the Court party, was far from satisfied. He found the King, as ever, vague, shifting, and reserved, and he was bound to conclude that the interview with John Pym had proved absolutely fruitless. Yet he drew some comfort from the fact that Charles had promised to commit no violence on any of the Members of the Commons nor to take any steps without the advice of his new counsellors—those moderate, loyal men of whom Falkland and Hyde were the chief, and whose mild and patriotic measures were entirely devoted to the task of making a settlement in the kingdom and mediating between Charles and the Parliament.
Charles seemed to notice the shade of sadness, perhaps of mistrust, on my lord's fair face, and he touched him lightly and kindly on the shoulder.