"Frankly, my lady—how far will the Earl go?" "With whom?" she smiled. "With us—the Prince of Orange and the Whigs, ay—and the honest Tories too." She played with the tassels of the stiff cushion behind her. "My lord hath the greatest affection and duty for His Highness, the greatest admiration for him, the greatest hopes in him——" "Come, Madam," he responded, "we are old friends—I want to know my lord his real mind." "I have told it you," she said, lifting candid eyes, "as far as even I know it——" "You must know that His Highness hath in his desk letters from almost every lord in England, assuring him of admiration and respect—what was M. Dyckfelt over here for—and M. Zuylestein?—we want to know what the Earl will _do_." "What are the others—_doing_?" asked the Countess lightly. He saw the snare, and laughed. "My hand is always for you to read, but there are others seated at this game, and I may not disclose the cards." My lady lent forward. "You cannot," she said, in the same almost flippant tone, "expect my lord to declare himself openly a Whig?" "He might, though, declare himself secretly our friend." "Perhaps," she admitted, then was silent. Intimate as he was with the Countess, Mr. Sidney was not close with her lord, and felt more than a little puzzled by that statesman’s attitude. Sunderland, he knew, was in receipt of a pension, probably a handsome pension, from France; he was loathed by the Whigs and caressed by the King; as Lord President and First Secretary he held the highest position in the Kingdom; the emoluments of his offices, with what he made by selling places, titles, pardons, and dignities, were known to be enormous; his conversion to the Church of Rome had given him almost unlimited influence over James; and his great experience, real talents, and insinuating manners made him as secure in his honours as any man could hope to be; yet through his wife he had dallied with the Whigs, written, as Sidney knew, to the Prince of Orange, and held out very distinct hopes that he would, at a crisis, help the Protestants. Certainly he had not gone far, and it was important, almost vital, to the opposition that he should go farther, for he had it in his power to render services which no other man could; he only had the ear of James, the control of the foreign correspondence, the entire confidence of M. Barillon, and he alone was fitted to mislead the King and the Ambassador as to the schemes of their enemies, as he alone would be able to open their eyes to the full extent of the ramifications of the Protestant plots. It was the Countess who broke the silence, and her words were what she might have chosen could she have read Mr. Sidney’s thoughts. "My lord, who is the greatest man in the kingdom, hath more to stake and lose than you Whigs who are already in disgrace with His Majesty."