bring into the
world, if he doesn't mind his ways."

Monmouth saw the hit, and took it with pretty grace, bending and kissing
the King's hand.

"It is difficult, Mr Dale, to serve two masters," said the King, turning
again to me.

"Your Majesty is my only master," I began; but the King interrupted me,
going on with some amusement:

"Yet I should like to have seen my brother."

"Let him serve me, Sir," cried Monmouth. "For I am firm in my love of
these liberties, aye, and of the Reformed Religion."

"I know, James, I know," nodded the King. "It is grievous and strange,
however, that you should speak as though my brother were not." He
smiled very maliciously at the young Duke, who flushed red. The King
suddenly laughed, and fell to fondling the little dog again.

"Then, Sir," said Monmouth, "Mr Dale may come with me to Dover?"

My heart leapt, for all the talk now was of Dover, of the gaiety that
would be there, and the corresponding dulness in London, when the King
and the Duke were gone to meet Madame d'Orleans. I longed to go, and the
little hope I had cherished that Darrell's good offices with the
Secretary of State would serve me to that end had vanished. Now I was
full of joy, although I watched the King's face anxiously.

For some reason the suggestion seemed to occasion him amusement; yet,
although for the most part he laughed openly without respect of matter
or person, he now bent over his little dog, as though he sought to hide
the smile, and when he looked up again it hung about his lips like the
mere ghost of mirth.

"Why not?" said he. "To Dover, by all means. Mr Dale can serve you, and
me, and his principles, as well at Dover as in London."

I bent on one knee and kissed his hand for the favour. When I sought to
do the like to Monmouth he was very ready, and received my homage most
regally. As I rose, the King was smiling at the pair of us in a
whimsical melancholy way.

"Be off with you, boys," said he, as though we were a pair of lads from
the grammar school. "Ye are both fools; and James there is but
indifferently honest. But every hour's a chance, and every wench an
angel to you. Do what you will, and God forgive your sins." And he lay
back in his great chair with a good-humoured, lazy, weary smile, as he
idly patted the little dog. In spite of all that all men knew of him, I
felt my heart warm to him, and I knelt on my knee again, saying:

"God save your Majesty."

"God is omnipotent,