"I did not know, sir, until now, that I had any such gift. But when a man enters the naval service"—Archy was barely sixteen, but he swelled out his breast and stretched up his lithe, handsome figure as much as he could—"he is forced to learn to take care of himself. If he does not, certainly nobody will take care of him."
"I suppose," said Lord Bellingham, "since, articles of exchange have been agreed upon, it would be best for you to remain here until you are regularly exchanged. Then I hope you will be persuaded to return to your allegiance to your King and country."
"Pardon me, sir," replied Archy, rising at once, "it is not customary for officers on parole to listen to such propositions."
"Not from their own families, eh?"
"My family has not been sufficiently kind to me to warrant them in advising me in a matter so delicate. My father gave me permission, before his death, to enlist in the naval service of the colonies—and with his warrant I need no other."
"Your father was not so respectful to the wishes of his father. But, be seated again. I am now an old man—childless, for my only remaining child, Trevor Langton's mother, has long been estranged from me. Had her son lived, we might have been reconciled—I deserve some indulgence. Stay here for a time at least."
It seemed to Archy that Lord Bellingham did not have much claim to indulgence, judging by what those who knew him best said of him. But, in truth, Archy was fascinated by his grandfather's interesting personality. He wanted to see more of so odd a character—and the consciousness of having at least enough money to get back to London whenever he wished, and last, but not least, some faint awakening of the tie of blood, determined him.
"I will stay, sir," he said, presently. "I think my father would perhaps wish me to—and my mother—I do not remember her, but—" he paused suddenly. Ought he to stay?
"For your mother, I can only say that I had no fault to find with her except that she married my son. My ebullitions of temper were mistaken as insults to her—but it has always been my misfortune to have these trifling and inconsequent faults magnified and mistaken."
Lord Bellingham's novel view of himself nearly caused Archy to explode with laughter again—but he had begun to want to stay a while at Bellingham Castle, and, like most people, he had but little difficulty in persuading himself that what he wished to do was the best thing to be done, so he presently agreed.