But they could not talk much of the future; and Charles told how he had rested through all his campaigns in the knowledge that his Anne was watching and praying for him, and how his long illness had brought before him deeper thoughts than he had ever had before, and made him especially dwell on the wrong done to his parents by his long absence, and the lightness with which he had treated home duties and responsibilities, till he had resolved that if his life were then spared, he would neglect them no longer.

“And now,” he said, and paused, “all I shall have done is to break their hearts.  What is that saying, ’Be sure your sin will find you out.’”

“Oh, sir! they are sure not to deal hardly with you.”

“Perhaps the Emperor’s Ambassador may claim me.  If so, would you go into banishment with the felon, Anne, love?  It would not be quite so mad as when I asked you before.”

“I would go to the ends of the world with you; and we would take little Phil.  Do you know, he is growing a salad, and learning Latin, all for papa?”

And so she told him of little Phil till his father was seen looking wistfully at him.

With Sir Philip, Charles was all cheerfulness and hope, taking such interest in all there was to hear about the family, estate, and neighbourhood that the old gentleman was beguiled into feeling as if there were only a short ceremony to be gone through before he had his son at home, saving him ease and trouble.

But after Sir Philip had been persuaded to retire, worn out with the day’s agitations, and Anne likewise had gone to her chamber to weep and pray, Charles made his arrangements with Mr. Lee for the future for all connected with him in case of the worst; and after the lawyer’s departure poured out his heart to Dr. Woodford in deep contrition, as he said he had longed to do when lying in expectation of death at the Iron Gates.  “However it may end,” he said, “and I expect, as I deserve, the utmost, I am thankful for this opportunity, though unhappily it gives more pain to those about me than if I had died out there.  Tell them, when they need comfort, how much better it is for me.”

“My dear boy, I cannot believe you will have to suffer.”

“There is much against me, sir.  My foolish flight, the state of parties, and the recent conspiracy, which has made loyal families suspected and odious.  I saw something of that as I came down.  The crowd fancied my uniform French, and hooted and hissed me.  Unluckily I have no other clothes to wear.  Nor can I from my heart utterly disclaim all malice or ill will when I remember the thrill of pleasure in driving my sword home.  I have had to put an end to a Janissary or two more than once in the way of duty, but their black eyes never haunted me like those parti-coloured ones.  Still I trust, as you tell me I may, that God forgives me, for our Blessed Lord’s sake; but I should like, if I could, to take the Holy Sacrament with my love while I am still thus far a free man.  I have not done so since the Easter before these troubles.”