"Gilbert Crosby!" he exclaimed. "Never was friend more welcome."
His face, somewhat gloomy a moment before, was suddenly lit with a
brilliant smile, so winning, so full of charming graciousness, that it
was easy to understand the influence such a leader must have over the
army of enthusiasts gathered in the town of Bridgwater. He was a
handsome man, in appearance a born leader of men; and if Gilbert Crosby
understood some of the shortcomings which lay underneath this attractive
exterior, he could not remember them just now. There was the temptation
to offer himself heart and soul to this man and forget the self-imposed
mission on which he had come. He had been brought in contact with
Monmouth some years ago, had begun, perhaps, by pitying, and had ended
by giving him a friendship which was truer and stauncher than any other
he had ever possessed. When, a few years since, Monmouth had been feted
throughout Somersetshire and Devon, Crosby had been much in his company,
had entertained him modestly at his own manor, and had been at that
sumptuous feast given in honour of the Duke by Thynne of Longleat.
"Gentlemen, this is a very dear friend of mine," said Monmouth, turning
and presenting him to the company, "Mr.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117