"But, save yourself, my lord, and Dover and Salisbury, no person of consequence hath come into the pale of the Church—and how hath my Declaration of Indulgence been received? Discontent, disobedience from the clergy, insolence from the Bishops, and now this,—near to rebellion!" His eyes darkened. "Could you have heard the army on Hounslow Heath, my lord—they shouted as one man to hear these traitors had been acquitted." He began to stride up and down the room, talking sternly, half to himself, half to Sunderland, the speech of an angry, obstinate man. "But I’ll not give way. Who is this Jack Somers who defended them? Make a note of him—some Whig cur! The Dissenters too, what is the Anglican Church to them that they must stand by her? Do I not offer them also freedom of conscience? Do not they also benefit by the repeal of the Test Act?" Sunderland made no remark; he sat with his hand over the lower part of his face. By the expression of his eyes it might seem that he was smiling; but the light was fading, and James did not look at his minister. "I’ll break the Colleges too. Let them look to it. I’ll go on. Am I not strong enough? They are rebels at Oxford—I’ll take no rebellion—that was my father’s fault; he was not strong enough at first—it must be put down now—now, eh, my Lord Sunderland?" He stopped abruptly before the Earl, who rose with an air of humility. "It is my poor opinion, oft repeated, that Your Majesty must stop for nothing, but take these grumblers with a firm hand and crush them." This counsel, though not new, seemed to please the King. "You have ever given me good advice, my lord." He paused, then added, "Father Petre is always speaking against you, but I do not listen—no, I do not listen." "It is my misfortune to be unpopular with the Catholics, though I have done what might be for their service." "I do not listen," repeated the King hastily; he seated himself in the carved chair beside the bureau. "But I must tell you one thing," he added, after an instant. "M. Barillon thinketh I go too far." Sunderland remained standing. "He hath told me so," he answered quietly. "What doth he mean?" asked James eagerly, and with the air of depending entirely on the other’s interpretation. "This," replied the Earl suavely—"that, good friend as His Christian Majesty is to you, it doth not suit his pride that you, sir, should grow great without his help—he would rather have Your Majesty the slave than the master of the people, rather have you dependent on him than a free ally." "I’ll not be dictated to," said the King. "My brother was too much the creature of Louis, but I will not have him meddle in my affairs." "M. Barillon doth his duty to his master," answered the Earl. "Your Majesty need pay no attention to his warnings——"