"My grandson will ride
over with you in the morning to Ashby-de-la-Zouche. Two well-armed
lackeys shall accompany you."
"Oh, there is no fear of another attempt," the earl said, smiling.
"Besides, your grandson and I could fight a whole troop of
cutthroats by daylight. What a swordsman that boy is! And as cool
as a veteran! He is your pupil with the sword, I presume?"
"Only partly; he owes most of his skill to a French emigre, who
calls himself Monsieur Dessin, but who had, I suspect, a far higher
title across the water. He is a magnificent swordsman; and as I was
able to teach the lad a few thrusts which in their time did me good
service, and the boy has a clear eye, a cool head, and a firm
wrist, he can, young as he is, hold his own, go where he will."
"What do you mean to do with him? You ought to make a soldier of
him. It is the career of a gentleman, and we shall have a stirring
campaign on the Rhine next spring. He will have plenty of
opportunities to distinguish himself, and I need not say he will
have my best favour and protection!"
"I thank you heartily," the colonel said, "and doubt not that one
day the lad may claim the fulfilment of your promise. At present
his mother dreams of his being a Parliament man, and shining at
court. But you might as well expect to teach a falcon to dance.
Besides, the lad is a soldier heart and soul, and has, saving your
presence, little of the whig in him; and his mother will find ere
long, that if he goes to Parliament it will not be to vote as she
wishes.
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