"It will be a little late then," she retorted. "In the meantime, and to please me----"
He raised his hand in protest. "Anything else," he said.
"You have not yet heard what I propose," she cried, her voice shrill with anger. "It is a trifle, and to please me you might well do it. Set your hand to a note which I will see delivered in the proper quarter; promising nothing in the Prince's life-time--there! but only that in the event of his death you will support a Restoration."
"I cannot do it," he answered.
"Cannot do it?" she rejoined with heat. "Why not? You have done as much before."
"It maybe: and been forgiven for it by the best master man ever had!"
"Who feels nothing, forgives easily," she sneered.
"But not twice," he said gravely. "The King----"
"Which King?"
"The only King I acknowledge," he answered, unmoved. "Who knows, believe me, so much more than you give him credit for, that it were well if your friends bethought them of that before it be too late. He has winked at much and forgiven more--no one knows it better than I--but he is not blinded; and there is a point, madam, beyond which he can be as steadfast to punish as your King. If Sir John Fenwick, therefore, who I know well, is in England----"