"He is," replied Portland; "a rakehelly good-for-nought, as every one knows." William smiled faintly; he was the most tolerant of men, and had no interest in those faults that did not cross his designs. "I have loved rakes before," he said, and looked at my Lord Romney. The two Englishmen laughed a little, but Portland answered, with some anger— "He is a young prodigal with more debts than wits; you should not have given him your hand." The King did not resent his friend’s brusque address, he answered quietly, in his weak voice— "It would give me pleasure to pay some of those debts." Sunderland softly put in a remark. "M. van Keppel is the most obliging, sweet-tempered gentleman in the world, and one most devoted to Your Majesty." "And a great friend of your lordship," said Portland, with a cold haughtiness. He perceived, as he thought, a design on the part of Sunderland and Somers, with perhaps Marlborough behind them, to put up a rival to share with him the King’s affections, which had been wholly his for near their joint lives, and he could not contain his scorn and resentment, nor was he assuaged by the obvious unconsciousness of the King. Romney made some attempt to shift the subject; he came forward in the easy gracious way habitual to him. "Your Majesty will be soon for Flanders, then?" he asked. "It is a noble resolution." William rose. "I think it is my duty," he answered. He took up the plans of Greenwich Palace from the window-sill. "I think it is all there is for me to do. I thank you, my lords," he added, with dignity, "for having so long borne with me." He gave a little bow and left them to enter the inner room. As the door closed on him Sunderland smiled at the other two. "Have I not succeeded?" he demanded. "He is roused, he will go out to the war, I even think that he will take Namur." "You are very clever, my lord," admitted Romney, "and surely you have done the King a great service." Portland broke in hotly— "You pulled the strings of your puppet very skilfully; you know how to deal with the weaknesses of men, but those who are the King his friends do not love to see him practised on for party purposes." "I stand for more than party purposes," answered Sunderland, with sudden haughtiness. "My cause is the King his cause—that is sufficient—and for the rest, my deeds are not answerable at the tribunal of your virtues, my lord." Portland came a step nearer to him. "You scarce believe in God—you are little better than an atheist—yet all these terms are glib upon your tongue, and your tool, a shallow popinjay, can prate very nicely of sacred things. You are not sincere—you care for nothing—for no one." Romney made a little movement as if he would have stepped between the two earls, but Sunderland answered unmoved— "I have my policy too much at heart to jeopardize it by expounding it myself. I fear that my principles would suffer by my lack of eloquence."