“As you will,” said the duke; “but you have not given me your name, and I should wish to recollect one who has rendered me so essential a service.”
“Wenlock Christison,—an old soldier, an it please your grace,” said the captain, introducing his son at the same time.
“Ah! ah! now I recollect you well, Captain Christison,” answered the duke, “and truly I bear you no grudge because you sided with those I considered my foes; but let bygones be bygones, and I shall be very glad to see you again.”
Saying this, with the help of his attendants, the duke entered his carriage, shaking hands very warmly with Wenlock. “I owe you a heavy debt, young gentleman,” he said, “and one I shall at all times be glad to repay, and yet consider that I have not paid you sufficiently.”
“A fortunate meeting,” said Captain Christison to his son, as they walked on together. “The Duke of Ormonde is a powerful nobleman, and a truly upright and honest gentleman at the same time. What he promises he will fulfil. It is more than can be said of most of those in King Charles’s court. Take my advice, Wenlock. Do not let this opportunity of gaining a good position in the world pass by. I do not suppose that he will offer me anything, but if he does, I shall be inclined to accept it. You see, Wenlock, our finances are far from being in a flourishing condition. I cannot turn to trade like my friend Mead, as I have no knowledge of it. In truth, as our family have always followed the calling of arms, or one of the liberal professions, I am not much disposed to yield to my worthy friend’s arguments, and sheathe my sword for ever. I cannot understand why people should not be soldiers, and at the same time honest men and Christians.”
“I will have a talk with Mistress Mary Mead on the subject,” answered Wenlock, “when next we meet. At the same time I desire to follow your wishes, father.”
“I rather suspect that Mistress Mary’s bright eyes will weigh somewhat in the balance with her arguments, Master Wenlock,” said his father, with a laugh. “However, we will pay our visit to the duke, and if he throws fortune in our way, I see not why we should refuse to clutch it.”
The next morning was bright and dry. The captain and his son set off to pay their intended visit to the Duke of Ormonde. Wenlock, in his new slash doublet and hose, with a feather in his cap and a sword by his side, looked a brave young gallant, as in truth he was.
His father gazed at him proudly. “It were a pity,” thought the old soldier to himself, “to see the lad turn Quaker, and throw away the brilliant prospects he has of rising in the world. Such a chance as this may never occur to him again; for though I perchance might get him a commission in a troop of horse with myself, yet he would have many hard blows to strike before he could rise to fortune and fame, while a bullet might, long ere he reached them, cut short his career.”
On arriving at the Duke of Ormonde’s residence, they were at once shown into an ante-chamber, where two or three pages in attendance minutely scrutinised young Wenlock. They suspected, perhaps, from his manner and appearance, that he had come to take service with them. Courtesy, however, prevented them making any inquiries on the subject. After a short time, a gentleman came out of the duke’s chamber and invited Captain Christison and his son to enter. His manner was especially respectful, and this evidently raised the visitors in the opinion of the young pages. The duke came forward and shook Captain Christison cordially by the hand. He received Wenlock in a still more kind manner. Then turning to a dignified young man by his side, he said, “Allow me to introduce you to my son Ossory. He desires also to thank you for the service you have rendered his father.”