‘Well,’ said the other; ‘I say no more--only that it were a small wisdom on his part to condescend to bridle those same gossips by attending the reformed service now and again. Yet he may say he knows his own business better than I can tell him--and that’s the truth. For me, who both come and give advice uninvited, it is reassurance enough to have heard that passionist declaim. No schism worth the name in a house where such sentiment could answer such sentiment as his answered thine! That is the true orthodoxy for me--and eke shall be for my kinsman Dick Grenville. Loves England, quotha! By God he does--by God he does. And you’--he stopped in his walk, and looked Brion very honestly in the face. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘I am going to be as frank with you as I dare trust you will be with me; and I do entreat you to believe in my well-meaning candour, the which is designed to no insidious end, but wholly to serve one whom I am greatly inclined to love, and who I desire shall accept me for a true friend--yourself.’ What young fellow in Brion’s case would not have been touched by such a declaration from such a man? He answered, much moved, that his friendship was Master Raleigh’s for the asking. ‘And confidence,’ said the other, ‘as between two brothers, the elder of whom hath gained some wisdom in the world.’ ‘And confidence,’ repeated Brion in a low voice. ‘Then,’ said Raleigh, ‘here’s at it. Your Uncle let fall but now at dinner a remark somewhat pertinent to the matter which brought us hither. You heard it, and Grenville’s answer. I’ll be open with you. There are whispers of some plot toward to dethrone the Queen and put Mary of Scotland in her place. You know nothing of it?’ ‘Nothing--just Heaven!’ ‘Nor your Uncle?’ Brion looked at him sadly. ‘You see what he is.’ ‘I see,’ said the other, ‘and pity him and you. Then you think he is not involved?’ ‘Not possible. He receives no correspondence; sees nobody, unless enforced; for years has held himself quite secluded.’ ‘No midnight priests--no disguised emissaries of Spain?’ ‘None. O!’ said the boy, ‘that I should have to say it. He hath become the very nerveless ruin of a man, incapable of plotting, of resisting even for one brief hour the enemy that kills him. If he had cunning in those words at all, I trow it was the cunning of a lawyer’s brain, haunted in its decay with old thoughts of deeds and titles.’ Raleigh, pondering the speaker, did not answer for some moments; then he heaved a great sigh, as of relief, and, recapturing the boy’s arm, the two resumed their stroll. ‘That’s like enow,’ said he--‘and so I’ll acquaint Grenville. ’Tis happily resolved; and now we’ll talk of other things.’