King--King James of course, not that wretched Elector--
the son of his father, He distinctly told the people whom He wished them
to have for their king. What right have they to dispute His ordinance?"

I was quite beyond myself. I had forgotten where I was, and to whom I
was talking--forgotten Mr Raymond, and Angus, and Flora, and even
Grandmamma. It seemed to me as if there were only two parties in the
world, and on the one hand were God and the King, and on the other a
miserable mass of silly nobodies called The People. How could such
contemptible insects presume to judge for themselves, or to set their
wills up in opposition to the will of him whom God had commanded them to
obey?

The softest, lightest of touches fell on my shoulder. I looked up into
the grave grey eyes of Annas Keith. And feeling myself excessively rude
and utterly extinguished,--(and yet, after all, right)--I slipped out of
the group, and made my way into the farthest corner. Mr Raymond, of
course, would think me no gentlewoman. Well, it did not much matter
what he thought; he was only a Whig. And when the Prince were actually
come, which would be in a very few days at the furthest--then he would
see which of us was right. Meantime, I could wait. And the next minute
I felt as if I could not wait--no, not another instant.

"Sit down, Cary. You look tired," said Ephraim beside me.

"I am not a bit tired, thank you," said I, "but I am abominably angry."

"Nothing more tiring," said he. "What about?"

"Oh, don't make me go over it! I have been talking to a Whig."

"That means, I suppose, that the Whig has been talking to you. Which
beat? I beg pardon--you did, of course."

"I was right and he was wrong, if you mean that," said I. "But whether
he thinks he is beaten--"

"If he be an Englishman, he does not," said Ephraim. "Particularly if
he be a North Country man."

"I don't know what country he comes from," cried I. "I should like to
make mincemeat of him."

"Indigestible," suggested Ephraim, quite gravely.

"Ephraim, what are we to do for Angus?" said I, as it came back to me:
and I told him the news which Mr Raymond had brought. Ephraim gave a
soft whispered whistle.

"You may well ask," said he. "I am afraid, Cary, nothing can be done."

"What will they do to him?"

His face grew graver still.

"You know," he said, in a low voice, "what they did to Lord
Derwentwater. Colonel Keith had better lie close."