That was the stuff of which the King's faction was
made, half-witted rakes who were arrogant without pride and volcanic
without courage. . . . Not all, perhaps. The good Tony was a welcome enough
son-in-law, though Cecily would always be the better man. The young
Oxfordshire squire was true to his own royalties, and a mortal could be no
more. He liked the flaxen poll of him, which contrasted well with Cecily's
dark beauty--and his jolly laugh and the noble carriage of his head. Yet
what wisdom did that head contain which could benefit the realm of England?
This story of a new plot! Mr. Lovel did not reject it. It was of a piece
with a dozen crazy devices of the King. The man was no Englishman, but an
Italian priest who loved dark ways. A little good sense, a little honesty,
and long ago there would have been a settlement. But to treat with Charles
was to lay foundations on rotten peat.
Oddly enough, now that he was perforce quit of any share in the business,
he found his wrath rising against the King.
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