'So ends, my lord,' said Gashford, filling his glass with great
complacency, 'the blessed work of a most blessed day.'
'And of a blessed yesterday,' said his lordship, raising his head.
'Ah!'--and here the secretary clasped his hands--'a blessed yesterday
indeed! The Protestants of Suffolk are godly men and true. Though others
of our countrymen have lost their way in darkness, even as we, my lord,
did lose our road to-night, theirs is the light and glory.'
'Did I move them, Gashford?' said Lord George.
'Move them, my lord! Move them! They cried to be led on against the
Papists, they vowed a dreadful vengeance on their heads, they roared
like men possessed--'
'But not by devils,' said his lord.
'By devils! my lord! By angels.'
'Yes--oh surely--by angels, no doubt,' said Lord George, thrusting his
hands into his pockets, taking them out again to bite his nails, and
looking uncomfortably at the fire. 'Of course by angels--eh Gashford?'
'You do not doubt it, my lord?' said the secretary.
'No--No,' returned his lord. 'No. Why should I? I suppose it would be
decidedly irreligious to doubt it--wouldn't it, Gashford? Though there
certainly were,' he added, without waiting for an answer, 'some plaguy
ill-looking characters among them.
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