“And in any good cause, sir,” I replied, “I would willingly give my life to his Majesty.”

“So,” said his Excellency, raising his eyebrows, “I see clearly you are of the rascals.  But a lad must have his fancies, and when your age I was hot for the exiled Prince.  I acquired more sense as I grew older.  And better an active mind, say I, than a sluggard partisan.”

At this stage of our talk came in my Uncle Grafton, and bowing low to the Governor made apology that some of the elders of the family had not been there to entertain him.  He told his Excellency that he had never left the house save for necessary business, which was true for once, my uncle having taken up his abode with us during that week.  But now, thanking Heaven and Dr. Leiden and his own poor effort, he could report his dear father to be out of danger.

Governor Sharpe answered shortly that he had been happy to hear the good news from Scipio.  “Faith,” says he, “I was well enough entertained, for I have a liking for this lad, and to speak truth I saw him here as I came up the walk.”

My uncle smiled deprecatingly, and hid any vexation he might have had from this remark.

“I fear that Richard lacks wisdom as yet, your Excellency,” said he, “and has many of his father’s headstrong qualities.”

“Which you most providentially escaped,” his Excellency put in.

Grafton bit his lip.  “Necessity makes us all careful, sir,” said he.

“Necessity does more than that, Mr. Carvel,” returned the Governor, who was something of a wit; “necessity often makes us fools, if we be not careful.  But give me ever a wanton fool rather than him of necessity’s handiwork.  And as for the lad,” says he, “let him not trouble you.  Such as he, if twisted a little in the growth, come out straight enough in the end.”

I think the Governor little knew what wormwood was this to my uncle.

“’Tis heartily to be hoped, sir,” he said, “for his folly has brought trouble enough behind it to those who have his education and his welfare in hand, and I make no doubt is at the bottom of my father’s illness.”

At this injustice I could not but cry out, for all the town knew, and my grandfather himself best of all, that the trouble from which he now suffered sprang from his gout.  And yet my heart was smitten at the thought that I might have hastened or aggravated the attack.  The Governor rose.  He seized his stick aggressively and looked sharply at Grafton.

“Nonsense,” he exclaimed; “my friend Mr. Carvel is far too wise to be upset by a boyish prank which deserves no notice save a caning.  And that, my lad,” he added lightly, “I dare swear you got with interest.”  And he called for a glass of the old Madeira when Scipio came with the tray, and departed with a polite inquiry after my Aunt Caroline’s health, and a prophecy that Mr. Carvel would soon be taking the air again.