“We have his word to the contrary,” answered Rochecliffe—“his word of honour, transmitted by his friend:—Do you think it likely he will break it?”
“I hold him incapable of doing so,” answered Albert; “and, besides, I think Markham would make no bad use of any thing which might come to his knowledge—Yet God forbid we should be under the necessity of trusting any who ever wore the Parliament’s colours in a matter of such dear concernment!”
“Amen!” said the Doctor.—“Are your doubts silenced now?”
“I still have an objection,” said Albert, “to yonder impudent rakehelly fellow, styling himself a cavalier, who rushed himself on our company last night, and gained my father’s heart by a story of the storm of Brentford, which I dare say the rogue never saw.”
“You mistake him, dear Albert,” replied Rochecliffe—“Roger Wildrake, although till of late I only knew him by name, is a gentleman, was bred at the Inns of Court, and spent his estate in the King’s service.”
“Or rather in the devil’s service,” said Albert. “It is such fellows as he, who, sunk from the license of their military habits into idle debauched ruffians, infest the land with riots and robberies, brawl in hedge alehouses and cellars where strong waters are sold at midnight, and, with their deep oaths, their hot loyalty, and their drunken valour, make decent men abominate the very name of cavalier.”
“Alas!” said the Doctor, “it is but too true; but what can you expect? When the higher and more qualified classes are broken down and mingled undistinguishably with the lower orders, they are apt to lose the most valuable marks of their quality in the general confusion of morals and manners—just as a handful of silver medals will become defaced and discoloured if jumbled about among the vulgar copper coin. Even the prime medal of all, which we royalists would so willingly wear next our very hearts, has not, perhaps, entirely escaped some deterioration—But let other tongues than mine speak on that subject.”
Albert Lee paused deeply after having heard these communications on the part of Rochecliffe. “Doctor,” he said, “it is generally agreed, even by some who think you may occasionally have been a little over busy in putting men upon dangerous actions”—
“May God forgive them who entertain so false an opinion of me,” said the Doctor.
—“That, nevertheless, you have done and suffered more in the King’s behalf than any man of your function.”