“With the courage of the hare!” put in the young man contemptuously.
“With the—hum!—courage of the quadruped mentioned,” the other continued, without apparently noticing the sarcasm. “And the affair should be approached with all due circumspection. I think that is the correct phrase, Colonel Wharton?”
“Certainly, certainly,” the latter answered. “It is but sound common sense.”
“And it savours to me,” the young man cried impatiently, “to be more of——”
“Rupert,” my lady interrupted quickly, “be silent, I beg of you!”
“Of what, young man?” the colonel said in his precise tone, fixing his eyes upon the other’s face. “Of caution, you should say. For take the word of an old soldier who has seen some service in his time, I say that arm your enthusiasts as you will, they will never stand against disciplined troops. And we want no second Monmouth affair to teach us wisdom!”
“But you forget, Colonel Wharton,” my lady cried. “What of the French troops that Louis will send us?”
“Pardon me, madam,” the colonel replied gloomily. “That he says he will send us! I am of opinion that if the house of Stuart relies upon French assistance for its restoration, that event will not take place in my lifetime; although you, madam,” he added, “may possibly live to see a grandson of James ascend the throne!”
“The more reason, sir, that we should act, relying on ourselves,” the young man cried quickly; and the glance of gratitude my lady gave him was not lost on me. “I am of opinion that never before have James’s affairs worn so favourable an aspect. And I, for one, gentlemen, am ready and willing to tread the path her ladyship points out, though, it should lead me to the scaffold!”
“Ah, youth! youth! there spoke thy language,” the stout man said, shaking his head slowly with a movement that set his pendulous chin quivering. “Not that I blame Sir Rupert Courtenay for being outspoken,” he added, somewhat hastily, as the other half rose from his seat. “At his age I was like him.”