"Nonsense! Wisely and generously, I repeat," said Sir James warmly.

"For ten per cent on good security, I repeat," answered Master Freake
gravely.

"Damn your ten per cent!"

"Looks like it, and the security into the bargain!" said Master Freake
very quickly.

"Swounds! that's just it!" said Sir James. He rose and paced backwards
and forwards between me and the hearth. "A year ago, sir,"--he addressed
me in particular--"I should have shouted with joy at the summons to take
the place among the adherents of the cause which my father would have held
had he lived, and which it was his heart's wish on his death-bed that I
should take for him. The cause and the creed are nothing to me as such,
for I place no value on either. Your talk about the right divine of old
Mr. Melancholy, mumming and mimicking away there at Rome, makes me smile.
He's an old fool, that's the long and short of it. But a Blount's a Blount
after all. I owe something to my ancestors. My word to my father ought not
to be an empty breath. Yet here I am, with all the interests of life
pulling one way--wait till you've a boy five weeks old by a wife you'd be
cut in little pieces for, and you'll know, sir,--and a dead father and a
dead creed pulling the other. I knew what was coming, and I've talked
about it and thought about it till my head's like a bee-hive. Now, sir,
give me your advice!"

"I have joined the standard of your Prince," I said.

"Damme, sir, you mock me. That's not advice. That's torture."