64 A JACOBITE EXILE

“Besides, father,” Charlie put in, “much as he deserves
any punishment you can give him, you would not kill cousin
Celia’s husband and Ciceley’s father. When the truth is
all made known his punishment will be bitter enough, for
no honest man would offer him a hand, or sit down to a
meal with him. Ciceley has been as a young sister to me,
and her mother has ever been as kind as if she had been
my aunt. I would not see them grieved even if that rogue
came off scot-free from punishment; but at any rate, father,
I pray you to let it pass at present. This time we have
happily got you out of the clutches of the Whigs, but if you
fell into them again you may be sure they would never give
us another chance.”

Sir Marmaduke still sat irresolute, and Charlie went
on: “Besides, father, Mr. Jervoise has risked his life in
lingering in Lancashire to save you, and the brave fellows
who aided us to rescue you have risked theirs both in the
fray and afterwards, if their share in it should ever be known,
and it would not be fair to risk failure after all they have
done. I pray you, father, be guided by the opinion of your
good friend Mr. Jervoise.”

Sir Marmaduke touched his horse’s flank with his heel.

“You have prevailed, Charlie; your last argument decided
me. Ihave no right to risk my life after my good friends
have done so much to save me. John Dormay may enjoy
his triumph for a while, but a day of reckoning will surely
come. Now tell me of the others, Jervoise. Have all
escaped in safety?”

“All. Your boy brought me the news of your arrest and
that we were charged with plotting William’s assassination.
I rode that night with the news, and next day all were on
the road to the coast, and were happily on board and away
before the news of their escape could be sent to the
ports.”

“And now, what are your plans, Jervoise—that is, if you