He does not want such a
messenger as I am. Do you march early to-morrow, Sir John?"
"Not so soon as that, I think, Martin."
"And you, Lord Rosmore?"
"Is it worth while marching at all against such a rabble?" was the
answer.
Martin took up his fiddle.
"You, Sir Philip, will hardly leave the ladies, I suppose? Like me, you
are no fighting man."
Sir Philip Branksome chose to consider himself a very great fighting
man, and every acquaintance he had knew it. His angry retort was drowned
in the laughter which assailed him on all sides, and by the time the
laughter had ended Martin Fairley had left the room.
"That madman knows too much," said Rosmore, turning to Sir John. "You
give him too great licence. Had I anything to do with him I should slit
that wagging tongue of his."
"He talks too freely to be dangerous," said Sir John. "His news is
doubtless true, and we--which side do we favour?"
Mrs. Dearmer propounded a question.
"Does it not depend upon which is the good? If popery, then Monmouth and
the Protestants claim us; if Protestantism, then must we die for King
James and all the evil he meditates."
"A fair abbess reminding us of our rules," said Branksome.
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