in London, while he and I were watching the royal brothers, King Charles
and the Duke of York, playing pall-mall, I expressed my doubts and fears
of his ultimate success in reformation so long as he remained in any way
associated with Crofts, Berkeley, Wentworth, and others of the vicious
clique.

"Yes, I know it is an uphill journey," returned George, laughing with a
touch of bitterness, "but think of my reward if I succeed!"

"Do you mean my cousin?" I asked.

"Yes, but I have little hope," he replied, though perhaps he had more
hope than he expressed.

I had told him of her intention to come to London, hoping that he would
leave before her arrival, as he did, though neither he nor I knew when
she was coming. So I asked:--

"Don't you know that she will be carried off by some rich lord before you
are half good enough for her?"

"I suppose so," he answered, with a sigh.

"You must know that she is coming for that purpose," I returned, wishing
to take all hope out of him.

He winced perceptibly and answered after a long pause, nodding his head
in the direction of the king: "There is the only man I fear--the king.
But rather than see her the victim of any man, by God, I'll kill him,
though it cost me my life the next moment!"