He was silent a moment, then with something of anger in his voice, "My Lord Marlborough, dipped to the lips in '88, who shall say that for all that he has not made his peace? And has good reason to urge us to let sleeping dogs lie? And Godolphin, is it only at Newmarket he has hedged--that he says, the less we go into this the better? And Sunderland who trusts no one and whom no one trusts? And Leeds--all things for power? And Clarendon, once pardoned? And Russell, all temper? Who knows what pledges they have given, or may give? Devonshire--Devonshire only has to lose, and stands to lose with me. With me!"
As he spoke thus he seemed to be so human, and through the robe of state and stateliness in which he lived the beating of the poor human heart was so plainly visible, that my heart went out to him, and with an eagerness and boldness that now surprise me, I spoke to him.
"But, your Grace," I said, "while the King lives all goes well, and were anything to happen to him----"
"Yes?" said he, staring at me, and no little astonished at the interruption.
"There is the Princess Anne. She is here, she would succeed, and----"
"And my Lord Marlborough!" said he, smiling. "Well, it may be. But who taught you politics, Mr. Price?"
"Mr. Brome," said I, abashed. "What I know, your Grace."
"Ha! I keep forgetting," he answered, gaily, "that I am talking to one of the makers of opinion--the formers of taste. But there, you shall be no evidence, I give you my word. So tell me all you know, and what befell you yesterday."
I had no desire but to do so--on those terms, and one small matter excepted--and not only to do that, but all things that could serve him. Nevertheless, and though I had high hopes of what I might get by his grace and favour, I was far from understanding that that was the beginning of twenty years of faithful labour at his side; of a matter of fifteen thousand papers written under his eye; of whole ledgers made up, of estate accompts balanced and tallies collected; of many winters and summers spent among his books, either in the placid shades of Eyford or in the dignified quiet of St. James's Square. But, as I have said, though I did not foresee all this, I hoped much, and more as, my tale proceeding, my lord's generous emotion became evident. When I had done, he said many kind things to me respecting the peril I had escaped; and adding to their value by his manner of saying them, and by the charm which no other so perfectly possessed, he left me at last no resource but to quit the room in tears.