"That being so," said I, drawing myself up very straight and feeling mightily important, "I fight for Monmouth."
'Twas now my father's turn to show amazement, the which he did by springing to his feet with such suddenness and anger that I fell back a step or two.
"Stop!" he hissed across the table. "You know not what you say. Such words as those would hang a man if they were overheard. Wouldst fight for a usurper?"
"They say he is the rightful heir," said I.
"'They say'! Who say?" returned my father hotly.
"Why, those who have a right to know," I answered glumly, for my pride was hurt.
"Then know that 'they' say wrong," he scornfully rejoined. "This Monmouth hath no more title to the crown than you or I have."
"But, sir, is he not the eldest son of Charles the Second?"
"They have no proof who say so. Therefore I say again, he hath no claim, no title to the throne of England."
This seemed a crushing answer right enough, and so for a moment I was silent. But I had read and heard--as no doubt you have also--of some mysterious written proof of Charles's marriage to one Lucy Walters, Monmouth's mother. 'Twas said to have been hidden in a black box somewhere, which, when the needful time arrived, was nowhere to be found; and even they who had professed to having seen the very document in question, roundly denied all knowledge of it when brought before the Council. To be quite honest, I had but small belief in it myself, but now, in my fallen pride, it served my purpose; so----