It was for this that he had rested on his oars so long. He had defended many of the proscribed with varying success. But these were the chiefs, the head and front of the offending. He felt that the power was there, a precious gift direct from God. He would blast the witness, whoever he might be, as he sat upon the table, till even a jury of the right sort would not dare to convict upon his evidence; he would paint in vivid colours what he and his fellows were--wretches who, buried as men, had slept in the tomb till their hearts festered and dissolved--to be dug up thereafter as informers. He bade Robert be of good cheer, and listened, with a kindly arm about the lad's neck, to his project of going to England. He would go to the fountain-head, vowed Robert, for no mercy could be expected here; he would waylay Mr. Pitt himself--would force himself into the Royal presence--would compel England to listen to a recital of her sister's tribulations. The English could not know what was going forward--the King, whom people dubbed good King George, could not know of it. If he did, he was a hypocrite who ought to be unmasked--but of course he did not. The ardent lad quivered with excitement and noble fervour, while the little lawyer felt himself invaded by pity. The poor boy persisted in believing that Right was sure to triumph. He believed that his story would rouse the English to interference--Mr. Pitt to contrition for excessive sinfulness--that it would melt like snow the prejudices of the most ignorant and pigheaded monarch who ever occupied a throne. Poor lad! In spite of all he saw, his illusions had not yet been taken from him. Some people require an operation with pincers. The dreadful moment had yet to come when he would wake up and know with certainty that his doll's inside was bran. 'My boy,' the lawyer said, 'the impulse is excellent. Go, and prosper, if the Fates will it so. To tell the truth, I believe more in my powers of oratory here than yours over yonder. I ought to have special interest in you,' he pursued, with a sad smile, 'though it's to the lowering of my own conceit. I made the discovery this morning--what owls we old fogies are!--that it is not for the sake of my brilliant conversation that you young butterflies choose to flutter about the Priory. Upon my word, I used to think it was, and that your taste was vastly fine.' Robert's face assumed a guilty hue, and he lowered his eyes.