“I stand in the place of your father,” says Mr. Esmond, kindly, “and sure a father may dispossess himself in favor of his son.  I abdicate the twopenny crown, and invest you with the kingdom of Brentford; don’t be a fool and cry; you make a much taller and handsomer viscount than ever I could.”  But the fond boy, with oaths and protestations, laughter and incoherent outbreaks of passionate emotion, could not be got, for some little time, to put up with Esmond’s raillery; wanted to kneel down to him, and kissed his hand; asked him and implored him to order something, to bid Castlewood give his own life or take somebody else’s; anything, so that he might show his gratitude for the generosity Esmond showed him.

“The K—–­, he laughed,” Frank said, pointing to the door where the sleeper was, and speaking in a low tone.  “I don’t think he should have laughed as he told me the story.  As we rode along from Dover, talking in French, he spoke about you, and your coming to him at Bar; he called you ‘le grand serieux,’ Don Bellianis of Greece, and I don’t know what names; mimicking your manner” (here Castlewood laughed himself)—­“and he did it very well.  He seems to sneer at everything.  He is not like a king:  somehow Harry, I fancy you are like a king.  He does not seem to think what a stake we are all playing.  He would have stopped at Canterbury to run after a barmaid there, had I not implored him to come on.  He hath a house at Chaillot, where he used to go and bury himself for weeks away from the Queen, and with all sorts of bad company,” says Frank, with a demure look; “you may smile, but I am not the wild fellow I was; no, no, I have been taught better,” says Castlewood devoutly, making a sign on his breast.

“Thou art my dear brave boy,” says Colonel Esmond, touched at the young fellow’s simplicity, “and there will be a noble gentleman at Castlewood so long as my Frank is there.”

The impetuous young lad was for going down on his knees again, with another explosion of gratitude, but that we heard the voice from the next chamber of the august sleeper, just waking, calling out:—­“Eh, La-Fleur, un verre d’eau!” His Majesty came out yawning:—­“A pest,” says he, “upon your English ale, ’tis so strong that, ma foi, it hath turned my head.”

The effect of the ale was like a spur upon our horses, and we rode very quickly to London, reaching Kensington at nightfall.  Mr. Esmond’s servant was left behind at Rochester, to take care of the tired horses, whilst we had fresh beasts provided along the road.  And galloping by the Prince’s side the Colonel explained to the Prince of Wales what his movements had been; who the friends were that knew of the expedition; whom, as Esmond conceived, the Prince should trust; entreating him, above all, to maintain the very closest secrecy until the time should come when his Royal Highness should appear.  The town swarmed with friends of the Prince’s cause; there were scores of correspondents with St.