She's bold, Gashford ?' 'The true religion is, my lord.' 'And that's ours,' he rejoined, moving uneasily in his seat, and biting his nails as though he would pare them to the quick.

'There can be no doubt of ours being the true one.

You feel as certain of that as I do, Gashford, don't you ?' 'Does my lord ask ME,' whined Gashford, drawing his chair nearer with an injured air, and laying his broad flat hand upon the table; 'ME,' he repeated, bending the dark hollows of his eyes upon him with an unwholesome smile, 'who, stricken by the magic of his eloquence in Scotland but a year ago, abjured the errors of the Romish church, and clung to him as one whose timely hand had plucked me from a pit ?' 'True.

No--No.

I--I didn't mean it,' replied the other, shaking him by the hand, rising from his seat, and pacing restlessly about the room.
'It's a proud thing to lead the people, Gashford,' he added as he made a sudden halt.
'By force of reason too,' returned the pliant secretary.
'Ay, to be sure.