equest. "If that be all that your
Honour hath to ask, I can have no hesitancy in giving a hearty and
honest pledge in such behalf. Jersey is no Corsica; and we love not
revenge, do we, Alain?"

Alain readily endorsing his chief's assertion, Prynne continued:--

"It is not all. I have to pray you for the Lieutenant himself; misguided
and grasping as you deem him, he is of my deceased friend's name and
blood."

"Alack, Mr. Prynne!" answered Lempriere, "have you quite forgotten what
I owe to that blood and name? And I speak not in this for myself only.
There are the spirits of the Bandinels before me; unhappy victims of
George Carteret's revenge. There is the shade of my friend Maximilian
Messervy, judged by an unlawful and corrupt Court, executed under
warrant of one who had no warrant for himself."

In his excitement Lempriere had forgotten to quote Latin; he began to
pace the floor of the room. Prynne also rose and leaned by the window,
looking out at the shrubs standing dark and blotted against the evening
light that lay on the smooth water.

"Take not your example," he said; "from those whose deeds you abhor,
neither make your enemies your pattern. Recollect who it is that hath
said, 'Vengeance is mine:' and in the hour of your triumph remember to
spare. Come, give me your word, willingly. I am doing much for you, more
than you are aware. I call to mind some solemn words that I have heard
Mr. Milton quote:--

"The quality of Mercy is not strained,
It droppeth as the gentle dew from Heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blessed,
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

Let your promise to bless come as freely as the dews that are falling
out there on my little grass-plot. Peace is upon the world--let peace be
in our hearts also!"

The vehement controversial voice changed and became musical as it
uttered the words. The fervour of an unwonted mood had brought something
of a mist into the speaker's eye; persuasion hung upon his gestures, and
the voice of private rancour sank before the pleading of his lips. As
the Jerseyman remained silent, Prynne went to the table and filled the
glasses from the flagon of Rhenish wine that stood there.

"We Presbyterians," he said, "are not given to the drinking of toasts.
But 'tis no common occasion. England's wars are over, may there be peace
upon Israel. Let us drink one glass together, and let us join in the
blessing of old, invoking it on our