Charles was to subscribe the “solemn league and covenant,” to give pardon and amnesty to all past political offences, and to agree to maintain the Protestant religion, according to the Presbyterian rite.  Our fathers fought for freedom, but it was freedom only for themselves.

Upon these conditions it was observed by the foremost of the king’s advisers, that the so-called “Scottish Parliament” was no Parliament at all, neither having been called by royal mandate nor dissolved by the late king’s death.  It was thus wanting in the essential elements and attributes.  Dishonour and prejudice would accrue to any sovereign who should upset the very nature of the constitution.  Yet the commissioners asserted stoutly that their employers would not be treated with under any other style, title, or appellation.  The king’s councillors frowned.  It was added, further, that the clergy of the Church of England, as might be learnt from his majesty’s own chaplains then present in Jersey, would strenuously oppose the Scottish alliance.  They would indeed rather see the king go among the Papists in Ireland than among such strict Protestants as the Scots.  These counsels were upheld by certain of the lords; and the Lord Byron, though not giving such extreme lengths, thought it not well to form a conclusive opinion until it was seen what advices should be received from Ireland, where Ormonde was still endeavouring to withstand the forces of the English Parliament under General Cromwell.

About the end of the month, however, all hope from that side faded away.  The defence of Ireland had melted before the two passions of fear and avarice.  All the strong places in Ireland had yielded themselves to the parliament.  Ormonde admitted his failure in a letter to Charles, dated “Waterford, December 15, 1619.”  On this Lord Byron joined in urging the king to yield the questions of form or title, and to treat with the Scots on their own terms.

While things were still in suspense, Alain le Gallais was wandering idly on the rude quay of S. Helier, looking up at the insulated castle, and vainly seeking to conjecture what might be the nature of the plans being there matured, when he was suddenly addressed from behind in a rough, but not wholly unfamiliar voice.  Turning about he beheld the grim face and gaunt form of Major Querto, by no means softened by prison fare and restraint.

“I cannot say much in praise of your island, Captain,” growled the veteran, “either as regards hospitality or diversion.  Out of bare eight weeks that I have lived here, six have been spent in prison; and now that they have let me out, I can find nothing better to do than to count the pebbles upon this beach here.”

Le Gallais led the grumbling officer to a neighbouring tavern, and called for a mug of cider and two glasses.  When the liquor had begun to do its office, Querto showed signs of better cheer, nothing loth to have a companion.