"Sir," said Archy, firmly, "although you have found me, you are not obliged to keep me. I came here on the recommendation of Admiral Kempenfelt. I have some money, and when I get my share of the Bon Homme Richard's prize-money I shall have plenty—the Serapis, sir, was a very valuable ship, and worth a hundred of our poor old Richard. I am ready to go away to-day—now, this moment, if you wish me."
Lord Bellingham's reply to this was to seize the fire-tongs and vigorously attack the sea-coal fire. The tongs, however, becoming interlocked in some way, he suddenly threw them violently across the room, where they struck a marble bust of the philosopher Plato—the apostle of mildness—and smashed the nose off. So far from agitating Lord Bellingham, this accident seemed to compose him, and he calmly remarked:
"I feel relieved. My temper is peculiar, and I find that by giving it vent in some noisy but harmless manner I am soonest calmed."
Archy's response to this was to burst into a suppressed guffaw of laughter, which his grandfather perceiving, he also smiled.
"Rebellion seems to sit lightly on you, boy," he said, presently. "I have had some experience of what rebellion means. During the rising in '45 I was suspected of disloyalty. I had known the Young Pretender in Rome when I was on the grand tour, and we were much together—ah, they were wild days! After my return I was for some years at Court, although I disdained any appointment. At the time of the rising I happened to be here, and entertained the Duke of Cumberland on his way to the North. When everything was over, and the prisoners from Culloden were being marched southward, what was my surprise to find myself among them, mounted on a horse whose bridle was led by a foot-soldier, with orders to shoot me dead if I attempted to escape. When we reached London I had no difficulty in clearing myself from suspicion without a formal trial, and the King was pleased to admit me to his levee immediately after my release. The Lords Bellingham had been counted as among the Tory nobility, and that was one reason that suspicion fell on me; and my enemies magnified some former acts of civility to Charles Edward into complicity with him."
"But, sir," asked Archy, very earnestly, "did you really—er—a—I mean—did you not in your heart wish him to succeed?" It was now Lord Bellingham's turn to smile.
"If I had, I should be now probably dwelling in a cave in America."
"We are not cave-dwellers, sir. We have excellent, good houses. But you had better luck when you were captured than I when I was captured at the Texel, for I was chased along the sand and marshes by the Seahorse's men—and knocked down, and flung into their boat as if I had been a lame puppy—and when I tried to cry out, I was choked by a great monster of a boatswain's mate, and told they would chuck me overboard if I did not choke my luff—and they would have done it, too, sir! And then," added Archy, slyly, "you would have been spared the finding of me."
"Young man, you have a gift of repartee. Be careful how you use it."