"I don't know that I ought to tell you, Charlie. You know my father
does not think the same way as yours about things."

"I should rather think he doesn't," Charlie laughed. "There is no
secret about that, Ciceley; but they don't quarrel over it. Last
time your father and mother came over here, I dined with them for
the first time, and I noticed there was not a single word said
about politics. They chatted over the crops, and the chances of a
war in Europe, and of the quarrel between Holstein and Denmark, and
whether the young king of Sweden would aid the duke, who seems to
be threatened by Saxony as well as by Denmark. I did not know
anything about it, and thought it was rather stupid; but my father
and yours both seemed of one mind, and were as good friends as if
they were in equal agreement on all other points. But what has that
to do with Nicholson, for that is the man's name who came out just
now?"

"It does not seem to have much to do with it," she said doubtfully,
"and yet, perhaps it does. You know my mother is not quite of the
same opinion as my father, although she never says so to him; but,
when we are alone together, sometimes she shakes her head and says
she fears that trouble is coming, and it makes her very unhappy.
One day I was in the garden, and they were talking loudly in the
dining room--at least, he was talking loudly. Well, he said--But I
don't know whether I ought to tell you, Charlie."

"Certainly you ought not, Ciceley. If you heard what you were not
meant to hear, you ought never to say a word about it to anyone."

"But it concerns you and Sir Marmaduke."