e, when Wentworth kept down faction and
the saintly Laud built up the Church which he adorned." And the Governor
buried his woes in the Rhenish.

"Sir William Berkeley's loyalty is proverbial," said Sir Charles
suavely. "The King knows that while he is at the helm in Virginia, the
colony is on the high road to that era of peace and prosperity which his
majesty so ardently desires--for his tax-paying people. And I have
thought more than once of late that I might do worse than to dispose of
my majority in the 'Blues,' bid the Court adieu, and obtaining from his
Majesty a grant of land, retire here to Virginia to pass my days on my
own land and amid a little court of my own, in the patriarchal fashion
you gentlemen affect. Under certain circumstances it is a course I might
possibly pursue." He glanced at his kinsman, whose countenance showed
high approval of a plan which dovetailed nicely with one of his own
making.

"Can you guess the 'certain circumstances' which are to give us the
pleasure of his confounded company?" whispered Mr. Peyton to Mr. Carey.

"An easy riddle, Jack. Damn the insolent, smooth-spoken knave of hearts,
and confound the women! They all drop to a court card."

"Not Mistress Betty Carrington. _She_ looks below the surface."

"Humph! What does she see below thine? An empty gourd with a few
madrigals and sonnets, and fine images, conned from the 'Grand Cyrus,'
rattling about like dried seeds?"

"Hush, thou green persimmon! the Governor is speaking."

The governor rose with care to his feet. His wig was awry, his cravat of
fine mechlin under one ear. Benevolent smiles played like summer
lightning across his flushed face. He raised his tankard slowly and with
attentive steadiness. "Gentlemen," he said in a high voice, "we have
eaten and we have drunken. Dick Verney's wine is as old as the hills and
as mellow as sunlight. It groweth late, gentlemen, and some of you have
miles to travel, and it takes cool heads to ride the 'planter's pace.'
For William Berkeley, gentlemen, Governor of Virginia by the grace of
God and his Majesty, King Charles the Second, it takes more than Dick
Verney's wine to fluster him. I call a final toast. I drink again to our
loving friend and host, the worshipful Colonel Richard Verney, to his
beauteous daughter and sister, to his man-servant and his maid-servant,
his ox and his ass, and the stranger which is within his gates." He
smiled benignly at a reflection of Sir Charle