“Are there many of them?” demanded his companion.

“A great many,” he replied—­“enough to render their object perfectly secure, if means be not taken to frustrate it.”

“But,” said the other, “the men must be mad, for many of them must be taken and executed very soon.”

“True,” answered his visitor, “if we were to suppose the country would remain quiet all the while.  But assassination might only be the prelude to insurrection and to civil war, and to the restoration of our old monarchs to the throne.”

“Such was the purpose, was it?” replied his companion.

“Assassination is a pitiful help, and has never yet been called in to aid a great or good cause.”

“Ay, my lord,” replied his informant; “but in this instance it is a base adjunct affixed to the general scheme of insurrection by a few bloody-minded men, without the knowledge of thousands who would have joined the rising, and without the knowledge, I am sure, of King James himself.”

“I really do not see,” said the other, “what should have caused such hatred against the person they aim at—­the post of King of England is no bed of roses; and a thousand, a thousand-fold happier was he, as Stadtholder of Holland, governing a willing people and fighting the battles of freedom throughout the world, than monarch of this great kingdom, left without a moment’s peace, by divisions and factions in the mass of the nation, which called him to the throne, and seeing union nowhere but in that small minority of the people who oppose his authority, and even attempt his life.  His is no happy fate.”

“Sir, there are some men,” replied the other, “in whom certain humours and desires are so strong, that the gratification thereof is worth the whole of the rest of a life’s happiness, and gratified ambition may be sufficient in this case to compensate for the sacrifice of peace.  I mean not to speak one word against the master that you serve.  He has, as you say, fought the battles of liberty for many years:  he is a brave and gallant soldier, too, as ever lived:  I doubt not he is a kind friend and a good master”

“Stay, stay,” replied the other, holding up his hand “before you go farther, let me tell you that you are under a mistake.  I am the personage of whom you speak—­I am the King.  When I prevented the soldiers from killing you, Bentinek was near me.  He is taller than I am:  the Dutch guards saw him before me, and shouted his name, which led to your error.”

The effect of these words upon the other can hardly be imagined.  He turned pale—­he turned red; but he yielded to the first impulse both of gratitude and respect, and without taking time to think or hesitate, he bent his knee and kissed the King’s hand.

“Rise, rise!” said William—­“I ask nothing of you, sir, but to speak to me as you would have done if I had really been Lord Portland.  I could not let you go on without explanation, for you had said all that could be pleasant to a king’s ears to hear; and you seemed about to say those things which you might not have been well pleased to remember, when you discovered my real situation.”