en. Upon my
life, I think you ought to have it: it would just suit you; you would
make such a smooth-tongued, easy courtier to this Dutch vagabond, whom
you are going over to, I can see, notwithstanding all your
asseverations;" and he laughed aloud as he spoke.
"Nonsense, Lennard, nonsense!" replied his companion: "I neither wish
you killed, my good cousin, nor care for the earldom, nor am going over
to the usurper, though, Heaven knows, you'll do no good to any one, the
earldom will do no good to you, and the usurper, perhaps, may do much
good to the country. But had either of the three been true, I should
certainly have given you up to the Prince of Orange, instead of sharing
my last fifty guineas with you, to help you off to France."
His companion gazed down upon the ground with a grim smile, and remained
for a moment without answering; he then looked up, gave a short laugh,
and replied, "I must not be ungrateful, cousin mine; I thank you for the
money with all my heart and soul; but I cannot think that you have run
yourself so hard as that either; you must have made mighty great
preparations which have not appeared, to spend your snug little
patrimony upon a king who did not deserve it, and for whom you did not
fight, after all."
"I should have fought if I could have come up in time," replied the
other, with his brows darkening. "I suppose you do not suspect me of
being unwilling to fight, Lennard?"
"Oh, no, man! no!" replied his cousin: "it does not run in our blood; we
have all fighting drops in our veins; and I know you can fight well
enough when it suits your purpose. As for that matter, I might think
myself a fool for fighting in behalf of a man who won't fight in his own
behalf; but it is his cause, not himself, Harry, I fought for."
"Bubbles, bubbles, Lennard," replied the other, "'tis but a mere name!"
"And what do we all fight for, from the cradle to the grave?" demanded
his cousin--"bubbles, bubbles, Harry. Through England and Ireland, not
to say Scotland, there will be to-morrow morning, which I take it is
Sunday, full five thousand priests busily engaged in telling their
hearers, that love, glory, avarice, and ambition are nothing
but--bubbles! So I am but playing the same game as the rest. I wish to
Heaven the boat would come round though, for I am beginning to think it
is as great a bubble as the rest.--Run down, Wilton, my boy," he said,
speaking to the youth that held him by the hand--"run down to that
point, and see if you can di