The Great Roxhythe · Book III · Chapter 3 9 (2/2)

“It is the law of life, my child.”

“No, sir. I will never believe that. And it is not politic to work behind the Country’s back.”

“The Country has not treated us exiles so well that we need consider it,” answered my lord.

“The Country should stand first with every Englishman!”

“So you say who have had naught but good from the Country.”

“Nothing would make me alter my opinions!”

“Why, that is very noble! We look on this from different standpoints. I owe allegiance to none save the King.”

“And I⁠—thought the King⁠—Oh, I cannot bear it!”

“You thought the King more than human. He is as other men, save that he has more brain than all your patriotic dunderheads clubbed together. What you call love for Country is in reality love for blundering, senseless policy which is not worthy of the name. Your honest statesmen would bring the Country lower than ever King Charles would. Do you think I have not experienced all your feelings? I thought the same as you when I was young. But I was wiser than you are. I saw that King Charles was the man to follow, not ‘the Country.’ I too had to choose which path I would tread. I chose to serve the King. I have seen a great deal in my time, Christopher, but never that the King worked harm on the Country. I have learnt to place my trust in him. You would do well to learn that lesson too. If you are to take an active part in politics of today, you must follow the King, or those of our number whom you believe to be ‘the Country.’ ”

“I would follow them! At least they are honest!”

“To what avail? What good is honesty in a world of vice? Is Louis honest? You know that he is not. What weapons shall we fight him with but his own?”

“You do not fight him! You play into his hands!”

“There speaks your ignorance. The King plays into no man’s hands.”

“Save his own!”

Roxhythe was silent.

Christopher clasped and unclasped his hands.

“I can understand that having chosen to follow the King you should speak in this vein. I can understand that you would do aught for him. But to trick me! to make me instrumental in selling England to France!⁠—ay, my lord, you may say what you will, but that is what has been done!⁠—I⁠—it⁠—oh, my lord, I trusted you so!”

The pent-up cry left Roxhythe unmoved.

“It was you or the King, Christopher. You should have followed your brother’s advice and left me long ago.”

“I would I had! I would I had listened to Roderick in the first place! But I thought you so good! so honourable! And all the time you were deceiving me, lying to me as you lied to me in ’70 when I asked what you did in Paris! My lord, it would have been kinder to have told me!”

A little hardness crept into my lord’s voice.

“Mayhap. But you were useful to me. You shielded me from suspicion by your very ignorance.”

“I⁠—thought you cared⁠—for me⁠—a little! I loved you⁠—so greatly! I would have done⁠—anything in the world for you! And you⁠—tricked me.”

“I do care for you, Chris.”

“Ah, no! You would never have treated me thus! I was⁠—useful⁠—to you.”

Roxhythe shrugged and opened his comfit-box.

“You make too much out of too little,” he said. “And you speak of matters above your head.”

“It may seem a little to you, sir. You care naught for Country or patriotism. But I, I have been bred to think only of that! You knew it! You knew how I would have revolted from the task had I known the truth.”

The brown eyes narrowed. Still colder became that passionless voice.

“Exactly,” bowed his lordship.

“I see,” said Christopher wearily. “You are as ruthless as they said. It did not matter what would be my feelings when I discovered the truth. The only thing that mattered was that King Charles should have his way.”

“Your sagacity is quite astounding,” said Roxhythe.

“And the King⁠—I was so proud to be chosen for the task; so proud to kiss his hand; I believed in him so implicitly. And he joined with you in tricking me!”

Roxhythe ate another comfit.

Slowly Christopher picked up his brother’s letter. His mouth was very set, his eyes bewildered, terribly hurt.

“I cannot as yet⁠—quite realize⁠—everything,” he said unsteadily. “It⁠—it takes time, my lord, to undo⁠—the belief⁠—of years. And it has come so⁠—suddenly.”

“When you have considered the matter you will think differently,” replied Roxhythe, snapping his comfit-box. “There’s no harm done; only a jar to a rather fanatic love for Country.”

“I shall not think differently. I⁠—I must think what I shall do. My⁠—brain feels numbed. I⁠—I can’t realize that you whom I loved and respected so have done this thing.”

“ ‘This thing’ is so delightfully tragic,” remarked my lord.

Christopher walked to the door. His hand trembled as he pulled back the curtain.

“You’ll⁠—give me leave, sir.”

“Yes,” said Roxhythe.

Christopher went out.

For a long time after he had gone Roxhythe sat twisting his rings, and staring out of the window. At last he gave the faintest of sighs, and shrugged. The smile that came to his lips was not mirthful.