Before we broke up for the evening the gentlemen plied me with questions concerning the state of affairs in England, and the temper of his Majesty and Parliament.  I say without vanity that I was able to enlighten them not a little, for I had learned a deeper lesson from the set into which I had fallen in London than if I had become the confidant of Rockingham himself.  America was a long way from England in those days.  I regretted that I had not arrived in London in time to witness Lord Chatham’s dramatic return to politics in January, when he had completed the work of Junius, and broken up the Grafton ministry.  But I told them of the debate I had heard in St. Stephen’s, and made them laugh over Mr. Fox’s rescue of the King’s friends, and the hustling of Mr. Burke from the Lords.

They were very curious, too, about Mr. Manners; and I was put to much ingenuity to answer their queries and not reveal my own connection with him.  They wished to know if it were true that some nobleman had flung a bottle at his head in a rage because Dorothy would not marry him, as Dr. Courtenay’s letter had stated.  I replied that it was so.  I did not add that it was the same nobleman who had been pitched into the Serpentine.  Nor did I mention the fight at Vauxhall.  I made no doubt these things would come to their ears, but I did not choose to be the one to tell them.  Mr. Swain remained after the other gentlemen, and asked me if I would come with him to Gloucester Street; that he had something to say to me.  We went the long way thither, and I was very grateful to him for avoiding Marlboro’ Street, which must needs bring me painful recollections.  He said little on the way.

I almost expected to see Patty come tripping down from the vine-covered porch with her needlework in her hand, and the house seemed strangely empty without her.  Mr. Swain had his negro, Romney, place chairs for us under the apple tree, and bring out pipes and sangaree.  The air was still, and heavy with the flowers’ scent, and the sun was dipping behind the low eaves of the house.  It was so natural to be there that I scarce realized all that had happened since last I saw the back gate in the picket fence.  Alas! little Patty would never more be smuggled through it and over the wall to Marlboro’ Street.  Mr. Swain recalled my thoughts.

“Captain Clapsaddle has asked me to look into this matter of the will, Richard,” he began abruptly.  “Altho’ we thought never to see you again, we have hoped against hope.  I fear you have little chance for your property, my lad.”

I replied that Captain Daniel had so led me to believe, and thanked him for his kindness and his trouble.

“’Twas no trouble,” he replied quickly.  “Indeed, I wish it might have been.  I shall always think of your grandfather with reverence and with sorrow.  He was a noble man, and was a friend to me, in spite of my politics, when other gentlemen of position would not invite me to their houses.  It would be the greatest happiness of my life if I could restore his property to you, where he would have had it go, and deprive that villain, your uncle, of the fruits of his crime.”