The inevitable result ensued. No one had in a greater degree the trick of attaching such men to him than Charles. No one had a keener eye for a weakness to be played upon. He was taking the air in the gardens of the College when the two visitors arrived, and we can see them even now as they meet amidst the trim lawns. The artful secretary making his presentation in a few flattering words that say everything to the King: the stalwart soldier saluting somewhat abruptly with a frank honest stare; and Charles with his careworn smile saying something that brings a flush to the handsome face he scrutinises. We can hear him speak of the daring journey to Rhé, of the breach at Breda, of the guns at Newburn, and of all that has since been done in Ireland. He is glad also to have so great an authority on military science in Oxford, as he wants some confidential advice on the prosecution of the war. We can see the look of half-amused surprise as honest George "deals very frankly with his Majesty," and tells him his army is only a rabble of gentility, whose courage and high birth are worthless beside the growing discipline that Fairfax and Skippon and Cromwell are teaching his enemies. Let the King cut down his numbers to ten thousand men, properly organised and equipped; let him officer them with real Low Country soldiers, and send the high-born amateurs to the right-about, and with such an army he would bring the rebels to their knees in a trice. It is hardly, perhaps, the answer his Majesty expected, but he trusts to hear more of the matter another time. So Monk is dismissed, delighted at the King's good sense and condescension. Pay, arrears, and all are forgotten. He is taken by assault, and soon informs Lord Digby he is ready to take service in the royal army. The only question now was where the man who was worth a trial to gain should be employed. There was a general impression that he should go to Devonshire, where his eldest brother, Sir Thomas, was doing good work. But Monk made difficulties. A civil war in his native county was peculiarly distasteful to a man of his nature. Besides, his heart was not there. He had left it with the regiment that was devoted to him, and that was now, with the rest of the Irish brigade, investing Nantwich under Lord Byron. The fall of the place was looked on as certain; when all at once in the midst of the Christmas revels there was a cry that help was at hand. Under peremptory orders from London, Fairfax had left his winter-quarters about Lincoln, and had succeeded in penetrating Cheshire with a large force by the end of January. There was no doubt about Monk's destination then. The hardships of the unexpectedly long siege and two small reverses had seriously affected the temper of the Irish brigade, and their idol was hurried to infuse a better spirit into his old comrades for the coming struggle.