"Indeed I will. Joice--Joice; 'tis a pretty name, and well befits its pretty owner. And so, _Joice_," turning to me and speaking as though he had known me from a child, yet all the time with a most courtly manner, "you have finally determined to throw in your lot with my young kinsman, in spite of his troubles?" "Oh! sir," I said; "oh! my lord, what woman who had ever seen or known him could refuse to love him? And I owe him my life; I would lay it down for him now if he willed it. He fought for me and mine, ay! shed his dear blood for me. I have a dress at home all stained with it which I will never part with. He sought for me amongst my capturers and would have rescued me if they had not been mercifully disposed; he was as a god in my eyes, and now he is my husband and I love him more than aught else upon this earth. Oh! sir, I do love him so." Both he and Gerald smiled gently at my ardour, which, indeed, I could not repress, and then he said: "Doubtless, Joice, doubtless. 'Tis perhaps not strange. And, child, you wish to see him righted thoroughly; is it not so?" "Indeed, indeed, my lord!" I cried, "such is ever my fervent prayer. Yes, morning, noon, and night. And, surely, since the Irish Lords have acknowledged his right to the title he bears, those in England will not refuse to regard him as your heir." "We must do our best. Yet, even if they will not give him my title when I am gone, I can do much for him. Providence hath greatly benefited me. There is much I can bequeath to him, and, for the rest, I can provide that if he gets it not none other shall. Above all, the Scoundrel Robert shall never have it." "God bless you!" my husband and I exclaimed. "God bless you!" "Now, listen," he continued, "to what I propose. Your mother follows me but a few stages behind--poor Louise! she is marvellously stirred at the thought of seeing her son again--and when she is arrived in town this is what I will do. 'Tis what I intended five years ago, had not Sir Chaloner's men impressed you and made a sailor of you. I will have a meeting of many peers of my acquaintance--Sir Robert"--he meant the great Sir Robert Walpole--"has promised that he will come as well as some others who will be useful--and then I will publicly acknowledge you as my successor. But," he went on, "there is something else to be done." Gerald looked enquiringly at him as though doubtful as to what he was about to say, when the Marquis again took up the word. "The two scoundrels, Robert St. Amande and Wolfe Considine, must be brought to bay; above all, the latter must be made to retract the villainous falsehoods he has spread about your mother." "Ay, retract!" interrupted Gerald, hotly, "retract. He shall, indeed, or I will tear his lying tongue----" "Nay, nay!" said his kinsman, putting up his hand. "Nay, hear me." "I ask your lordship's pardon."