"Most undoubtedly, were it possible; but I know, I feel it is too late:—the damning——"
"Sir!" interrupted the Roundhead warmly, "I have just cautioned you against the use of profane words; yet you stuff them down my throat. I am crammed, sir, with your blasphemy."
"Is this a time to stand on words?" inquired De Guerre, with great quietude of manner. "We have different modes of expression, but they tend towards the same end—at least so you would have me believe. We have both in view the happiness of Mistress Cecil."
"You speak truly," replied the other; "and having so good an object to attain, it is meet that we use the worthiest means to achieve it; a lily should not be trained and nourished by a sullied hand."
The youth bowed, though, when he afterwards thought upon the simile, he pondered on the strangeness that one like Wellmore should seek metaphors from the flowers of the field. But nature and its feelings are rooted in the heart of the warrior and the statesman, as well as in that of the tenderest maid who tends the sheep or milks the lowing kine; the difference alone is that many things besides find place within the worldling's bosom, while her breast is one sweet and gentle storehouse for God and for his works.
"You would prevent this marriage?" reiterated the soldier. Walter again bowed; but the gesture intimated impatience.
"You are opposed to the present system, and would have it changed?" he continued.
"Where is the use of this repetition?" said De Guerre. "You know all this, and from myself: imprudent I have been, but not deceitful."
"And you would see the Protector of these realms brought to the—— Can you not finish the sentence?"
"I would, and I would not, see him brought to the block," replied Walter, with manly frankness. "I come of a race who loved the Stuarts; in some degree I have been cherished by them. Yet, though a most desperate——"