"You are a sly fellow, Dick," exclaimed Colonel Wyndham.
When his services were no longer required at the upper end of the table, the host came and sat down by the king. Filling a couple of glasses to the brim with sack, he said:
"Are you a friend to Cæsar?"
"Ay, that I am," replied Charles. "As much Cæsar's friend as thou art."
"Then here's a health to King Charles!" cried the loyal host, rising as he spoke. "If his majesty is not on the other side of the water, and safe from his enemies, let us hope he soon will be!"
The toast was enthusiastically drunk by all the gentlemen present, who rose at the bidding of the host.
Shortly afterwards the party again rose, but this time it was to take their departure, for though the wine was very good they could not make a long sitting.
After assisting Juliana to her seat on the pillion, Dick said to the king, in a low voice:
"Forgive me, sire, if I have presumed too much. I knew you from the first, and could not repress my feelings. May my dream soon become a reality!"
While riding out of Mere, they gazed at the fine old church with its lofty tower, at the ancient market-house, and at the lofty mound on which were some vestiges of a castle, built in the reign of Henry III. When they had quitted the little town, the most striking object was a precipitous hill, about two miles distant, known as Whitesheet Camp.