“Tut, the people are all fools—except such as are knaves. See how they're given up to drunkenness and vain pleasures. Hypocrisy and libertinism are safe for a few years' reign. England is Merry England, as they say, and she'll be merry at any cost.”
“Poor John, it will be a sad blow to him!”
Ralph had been an eager listener to the conversation between the yeomen, who were clearly old Whigs and Parliamentarians.
“Pardon me, gentlemen,” he interrupted, “do you speak of John Rushton of Aberleigh?”
“We do. As good a gentleman as lived in Lancashire.”
“That's true, but where was he when this disaster befell his household?”
“God knows; he had fled from judgment and was outlawed.”
“And the Crown confiscated his estate, you say, and turned his family into the road? What was the indictment—some trumpery subterfuge for treason?”
“Like enough; but the indictment counts for nothing in these days; it's the verdict that is everything, and that's settled beforehand.”
“True, true.”