They walked into the house, leaving Ratcliffe and Mareschal standing together in the court. “And so,” said Ratcliffe, “the gentlemen of your political persuasion think the downfall of this government so certain, that they disdain even to throw a decent disguise over the machinations of their party?” “Faith, Mr. Ratcliffe,” answered Mareschal, “the actions and sentiments YOUR friends may require to be veiled, but I am better pleased that ours can go barefaced.” “And is it possible,” continued Ratcliffe, “that you, who, notwithstanding pour thoughtlessness and heat of temper (I beg pardon, Mr. Mareschal, I am a plain man)--that you, who, notwithstanding these constitutional defects, possess natural good sense and acquired information, should be infatuated enough to embroil yourself in such desperate proceedings? How does your head feel when you are engaged in these dangerous conferences?” “Not quite so secure on my shoulders,” answered Mareschal, “as if I were talking of hunting and hawking. I am not of so indifferent a mould as my cousin Ellieslaw, who speaks treason as if it were a child’s nursery rhymes, and loses and recovers that sweet girl, his daughter, with a good deal less emotion on both occasions, than would have affected me had I lost and recovered a greyhound puppy. My temper is not quite so inflexible, nor my hate against government so inveterate, as to blind me to the full danger of the attempt.” “Then why involve yourself in it?” said Ratcliffe. “Why, I love this poor exiled king with all my heart; and my father was an old Killiecrankie man, and I long to see some amends on the Unionist courtiers, that have bought and sold old Scotland, whose crown has been so long independent.” “And for the sake of these shadows,” said his monitor, “you are going to involve your country in war and yourself in trouble?” “I involve? No!--but, trouble for trouble, I had rather it came to-morrow than a month hence. COME, I know it will; and, as your country folks say, better soon than syne--it will never find me younger--and as for hanging, as Sir John Falstaff says, I can become a gallows as well as another. You know the end of the old ballad; “Sae dauntonly, sae wantonly, Sae rantingly gaed he, He play’d a spring, and danced a round, Beneath the gallows tree.” “Mr. Mareschal, I am sorry for you,” said his grave adviser. “I am obliged to you, Mr. Ratcliffe; but I would not have you judge of our enterprise by my way of vindicating it; there are wiser heads than mine at the work.” “Wiser heads than yours may lie as low,” said Ratcliffe, in a warning tone. “Perhaps so; but no lighter heart shall; and, to prevent it being made heavier by your remonstrances, I will bid you adieu, Mr. Ratcliffe, till dinner-time, when you shall see that my apprehensions have not spoiled my appetite.” CHAPTER XIII.