"
Monmouth's face had grown gloomy. He was too good a soldier not to know
that what Crosby said was true, that his chance of success was of the
feeblest kind. Not a single man of real importance had joined him;
already there was regret that he had left his retreat in Brabant to lead
such a desperate venture, and deep down in his heart, perhaps, he
recognised in Ferguson his evil genius.
"You are a veritable Job's comforter," he said with a forced smile. "You
show us a crowd of difficulties, have you any advice how they may be
overcome?"
"Bid these men with their scythes and reaping-hooks disperse, and then
leave England as quietly as you came."
Such a solution had entered into Monmouth's mind already. It seemed more
feasible now that a friend had spoken it.
"You cannot!" exclaimed Lord Grey. "That would be base ingratitude to
the men who are encamped without these walls. We have called them to
arms, we must stand or fall with them."
"I grant it sounds the more honest advice," said Crosby, "but, my lord,
you have to choose between two evils; I only counsel you to take the
lesser. A few will suffer, doubtless, if you abandon your enterprise,
but if you press on with it the whole of the West Country will be
persecuted.
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