nk my loyalty to the good _cause_, if not to the _man_, the last in
England to be suspected."

"Nor is it suspected, in the smallest degree. My life on it, neither the
reigning monarch, nor his confidential servants, are such arrant dunces,
as to be guilty of so much weakness. No, this masterly move is intended
to secure _me_, by creating a confidence that they think no
generous-minded man would betray. It is a hook, delicately baited to
catch a gudgeon, and not an order to watch a whale."

"Can the scoundrels be so mean--nay, dare they be so bold! They must
have known you would show me the letter."

"Not they--they have reasoned on my course, as they would on their own.
Nothing catches a weak man sooner than a pretended confidence of this
nature; and I dare say this blackguard rates me just high enough to
fancy I may be duped in this flimsy manner. Put your mind at rest; King
George knows he may confide in _you_, while I think it probable _I_ am
distrusted."

"I hope, Dick, you do not suspect _my_ discretion! My own secret would
not be half so sacred to me."

"I know that, full well. Of _you_, I entertain no distrust, either in
heart or head; of myself, I am not quite so certain. When we _feel_, we
do not always _reason_; and there is as much feeling, as any thing else,
in this matter."

"Not a line is there, in all my despatches, that go to betray the
slightest distrust of me, or any one else. You are spoken of, but it is
in a manner to gratify you, rather than to alarm. Take, and read them
all; I intended to show them to you, as soon as we had got through with
that cursed discussion"

As Sir Gervaise concluded, he threw the whole package of letters on the
table, before his friend.

"It will be time enough, when you summon me regularly to a council of
war," returned Bluewater, laying the letters gently aside. "Perhaps we
had better sleep on this affair; in the morning we shall meet with
cooler heads, and just as warm hearts."

"Good-night, Dick," said Sir Gervaise, holding out both hands for the
other to shake as he passed him, in quitting the room.

"Good-night, Gervaise; let this miserable devil go overboard, and think
no more of him. I have half a mind to ask you for a leave, to-morrow,
just to run up to London, and cut off his ears."

Sir Gervaise laughed and nodded his head, and the two friends parted,
with feelings as kind as ever had distinguished their remarkable career.

CHAPTER VIII.