'When the plot failed,' my father continued, 'Rumbold had to fly for his
life, but he succeeded in giving his pursuers the slip and in making his
way to the Lowlands. There he found that many enemies of the Government
had gathered together. Repeated messages from England, especially from
the western counties and from London, assured them that if they would
but attempt an invasion they might rely upon help both in men and in
money. They were, however, at fault for some time for want of a leader
of sufficient weight to carry through so large a project; but now at
last they have one, who is the best that could have been singled out--
none other than the well-beloved Protestant chieftain James, Duke of
Monnmouth, son of Charles II.'

'Illegitimate son,' I remarked.

'That may or may not be. There are those who say that Lucy Walters was
a lawful wife. Bastard or no, he holds the sound principles of the true
Church, and he is beloved by the people. Let him appear in the West,
and soldiers will rise up like the flowers in the spring time.'

He paused, and led me away to the farther end of the yard, for the
workmen had begun to arrive and to cluster round the dipping trough.

'Monmouth is coming over,' he continued, 'and he expects every brave
Protestant man to rally to his standard. The Duke of Argyle is to
command a separate expedition, which will set the Highlands of Scotland
in a blaze. Between them they hope to bring the persecutor of the
faithful on his knees. But I hear the voice of the man Saxon, and I
must not let him say that I have treated him in a churlish fashion.
Here is the letter, lad. Read it with care, and remember that when