Part 17 (2/2)

As the peer entered, the keen eyes of his host noted that his bearing betokened a mind ill at ease.

”Faith!” said he, rising from his seat and extending his hand, ”thou bearest a most sour visage, my lord. Hath ridden in the sun, or did thy cook forget his occupation and serve thee an ill-prepared repast?”

Monteagle smiled faintly. ”Nay,” said he, ”'tis my mind which is somewhat disturbed.”

”Then sit thee down,” cried Cecil cheerily, ”and unburden thyself to me of all save affairs of State; of them am I exceeding weary, for the King hath a new hobby, a tax on beets and onions, in the discussion of which the afternoon has been consumed.”

”Then his Majesty devised another way----” began Monteagle.

Salisbury raised his hand. ”'Tis treason,” said he in feigned displeasure; ”wouldst have us in the Tower, good Monteagle, that thou speak so lightly of James' statesmans.h.i.+p?” Then changing his jesting tone to one of gravity: ”But tell me, what troubles thee? Hath the air of France failed to restore the spirits of thy son, Effingston? He hath not returned?”

”He is still in Paris,” replied the other, touching his lips to the gla.s.s which had been proffered him, ”I this day received a letter in which he speaks encouragingly of his health, and announces his return within the month. Thy mind is easy, my lord?”

”And why not?” demanded the Prime Minister, holding aloft his gla.s.s that he might watch the reflection of the sun's rays upon the wine.

”England is at peace, the King seated firm upon his throne, and the s.h.i.+p of State rides on an even keel. Hast dreamed of treason, my Lord Monteagle?”

”Perchance not treason,” replied his companion, drawing his chair nearer, ”but--certain things my son hath written, added to others coming under my own observation, have caused me some uneasiness--a shadowy suspicion, as it were, that an ill plan is brewing against the King's authority.”

”Tut!” cried Salisbury. ”'Tis a fit of indigestion, about which thou hadst best consult thy doctor. Yet, what be these suspicions?”

”Thou knowest,” replied Monteagle, sinking his voice so that it scarce reached the other's ear, ”there are certain Catholics among the n.o.bles who chafe grievously under the exactions of laws pa.s.sed by Parliament and approved by James.”

Salisbury shrugged his shoulders. ”That is beyond peradventure,” said he, ”but the laws will stand.”

”Of that I would speak nothing,” replied Monteagle, ”being neither King nor Parliament, but it hath been hinted that perchance the wind of discontent may fan into life a flame of----”

”Thou hast relatives among the Catholics,” interrupted Cecil, looking keenly at the other, ”hast become a confidant?”

Monteagle shook his head. ”Nay,” said he, ”nor do I desire to mix in affairs concerning my former faith. Yet, I have knowledge of certain meetings which have taken place composed of sundry persons opposed to the policy of James.”

”The dogs cut by the lash herd together in their discomfiture,”

replied Cecil, ”yet they fear to bite the hand which stung them.”

Monteagle frowned, for the words of the Prime Minister were not to his liking.

”There is more,” said he; ”certain of those have been seen in France.”

”'Tis a most Catholic country,” replied Salisbury, ”and, perhaps, wis.h.i.+ng to wors.h.i.+p unmolested before their altars, some have gone thither for their religion's sake.”

”My lord!” cried Monteagle, perceiving the Minister was in a mood for jesting, ”hast thou had no fear that some hidden danger might lurk beneath the calm exterior of the peace which covers England? Do not smile, but hear me. Thou knowest the Viscount Effingston is in France, at the Court of Henry, and hath mingled much with some who are close to the throne. Perhaps it may not have reached thine ears that some months back a bloodless duel was fought between him and one Sir Thomas Winter, a zealous Catholic and enemy to the King.”

”Ah!” broke in Salisbury, ”thy speech grows interesting; and what brought about this duel?”

”'Twas an insult cast upon me by this Winter,” replied Monteagle.

”Effingston chancing to hear, resented it, and an exchange of sword thrusts followed; but that is past. As I told thee this morning I received a letter from Paris in which the Viscount says he hath met this Winter and another, a soldier of the commoners, and----”

<script>