[2] The quotations of the learned doctor and antiquary were often left uninterpreted, though seldom incommunicated, owing to his contempt for those who did not understand the learned languages, and his dislike to the labour of translation, for the benefit of ladies and of country gentlemen. That fair readers and country thanes may not on this occasion burst in ignorance, we add the meaning of the passage in the text—“Virtue requires the aid of a governor and director; vices are learned without a teacher.”
There was no room for such reflections at present. Conscious of mutual sincerity, by a sort of intellectual communication, through which individuals are led to understand each other better, perhaps, in delicate circumstances, than by words, reserve and simulation appeared to be now banished from the intercourse between the King and Alice. With manly frankness, and, at the same time, with princely condescension, he requested her, exhausted as she was, to accept of his arm on the way homeward, instead of that of Dr. Rochecliffe; and Alice accepted of his support with modest humility, but without a shadow of mistrust or fear. It seemed as if the last half hour had satisfied them perfectly with the character of each other, and that each had full conviction of the purity and sincerity of the other’s intentions.
Dr. Rochecliffe, in the meantime, had fallen some four or five paces behind; for, less light and active than Alice, (who had, besides, the assistance of the King’s support,) he was unable, without effort and difficulty, to keep up with the pace of Charles, who then was, as we have elsewhere noticed, one of the best walkers in England, and was sometimes apt to forget (as great men will) that others were inferior to him in activity.
“Dear Alice,” said the King, but as if the epithet were entirely fraternal, “I like your Everard much—I would to God he were of our determination—But since that cannot be, I am sure he will prove a generous enemy.” “May it please you, sire,” said Alice, modestly, but with some firmness, “my cousin will never be your Majesty’s personal enemy—and he is one of the few on whose slightest word you may rely more than on the oath of those who profess more strongly and formally. He is utterly incapable of abusing your Majesty’s most generous and voluntary confidence.”
“On my honour, I believe so, Alice,” replied the King: “But oddsfish! my girl, let Majesty sleep for the present—it concerns my safety, as I told your brother lately—Call me sir, then, which belongs alike to king, peer, knight, and gentleman—or rather let me be wild Louis Kerneguy again.” Alice looked down, and shook her head. “That cannot be, please your Majesty.”
“What! Louis was a saucy companion—a naughty presuming boy—and you cannot abide him?—Well, perhaps you are right—But we will wait for Dr. Rochecliffe”—he said, desirous, with good-natured delicacy, to make Alice aware that he had no purpose of engaging her in any discussion which could recall painful ideas. They paused accordingly, and again she felt relieved and grateful.
“I cannot persuade our fair friend, Mistress Alice, Doctor,” said the King, “that she must, in prudence, forbear using titles of respect to me, while there are such very slender means of sustaining them.”
“It is a reproach to earth and to fortune,” answered the divine, as fast as his recovered breath would permit him, “that your most sacred Majesty’s present condition should not accord with the rendering of those honours which are your own by birth, and which, with God’s blessing on the efforts of your loyal subjects, I hope to see rendered to you as your hereditary right, by the universal voice of the three kingdoms.”
“True, Doctor,” replied the King; “but, in the meanwhile, can you expound to Mistress Alice Lee two lines of Horace, which I have carried in my thick head several years, till now they have come pat to my purpose. As my canny subjects of Scotland say, If you keep a thing seven years you are sure to find a use for it at last—Telephus—ay, so it begins—
‘Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque,
Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba.’”