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uncommon emphasis。
‘Well said； Grip！’ cried his master； as he fed him with the
daintiest bits。 ‘Well said； old boy！’
‘Never say die； bow wow wow； keep up your spirits； Grip Grip
Grip； Holloa！ We’ll all have tea； I’m a Protestant kettle； No
Popery！’ cried the raven。
‘Gordon for ever； Grip！’ cried Barnaby。
The raven； placing his head upon the ground； looked at his
master sideways； as though he would have said； ‘Say that again！’
Perfectly understanding his desire； Barnaby repeated the phrase a
great many times。 The bird listened with profound attention；
sometimes repeating the popular cry in a low voice； as if to
compare the two； and try if it would at all help him to this new
accomplishment； sometimes flapping his wings； or barking； and
sometimes in a kind of desperation drawing a multitude of corks；
with extraordinary viciousness。
Barnaby was so intent upon his favourite； that he was not at
first aware of the approach of two persons on horseback； who were
riding at a foot…pace； and coming straight towards his post。 When
he perceived them； however； which he did when they were within
some fifty yards of him； he jumped hastily up； and ordering Grip
within doors； stood with both hands on his staff； waiting until he
should know whether they were friends or foes。
He had hardly done so； when he observed that those who
advanced were a gentleman and his servant； almost at the same
moment he recognised Lord George Gordon； before whom he
stood uncovered； with his eyes turned towards the ground。
‘Good day！’ said Lord George； not reining in his horse until he
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was close beside him。 ‘Well！’
‘All quiet； sir； all safe！’ cried Barnaby。 ‘The rest are away—they
went by that path—that one。 A grand party！’
‘Ay？’ said Lord George； looking thoughtfully at him。 ‘And you？’
‘Oh！ They left me here to watch—to mount guard—to keep
everything secure till they come back。 I’ll do it； sir； for your sake。
You’re a good gentleman； a kind gentleman—ay； you are。 There
are many against you； but we’ll be a match for them； never fear！’
‘What’s that？’ said Lord George—pointing to the raven who was
peeping out of the stable…door—but still looking thoughtfully； and
in some perplexity； it seemed； at Barnaby。
‘Why； don’t you know！’ retorted Barnaby； with a wondering
laugh。 ‘Not know what he is！ A bird； to be sure。 My bird—my
friend—Grip。’
‘A devil； a kettle； a Grip； a Polly； a Protestant； no Popery！’ cried
the raven。
‘Though； indeed；’ added Barnaby； laying his hand upon the
neck of Lord George’s horse； and speaking softly： ‘you had good
reason to ask me what he is； for sometimes it puzzles me—and I
am used to him—to think he’s only a bird。 He’s my brother； Grip
is—always with me—always talking—always merry—eh； Grip？’
The raven answered by an affectionate croak； and hopping on
his master’s arm； which he held downward for that purpose；
submitted with an air of perfect indifference to be fondled； and
turned his restless； curious eye； now upon Lord George； and now
upon his man。
Lord George； biting his nails in a discomfited manner； regarded
Barnaby for some time in silence； then beckoning to his servant；
said：
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‘Come hither； John。’
John Grueby touched his hat； and came。
‘Have you ever seen this young man before？’ his master asked
in a low voice。
‘Twice； my lord；’ said John。 ‘I saw him in the crowd last night
and Saturday。’
‘Did—did it seem to you that his manner was at all wild or
strange？’ Lord George demanded； faltering。
‘Mad；’ said John； with emphatic brevity。
‘And why do you think him mad； sir？’ said his master； speaking
in a peevish tone。 ‘Don’t use that word too freely。 Why do you
think him mad？’
‘My lord；’ John Grueby answered； ‘look at his dress； look at his
eyes； look at his restless way； hear him cry “No Popery！” Mad； my
lord。’
‘So because one man dresses unlike another；’ returned his
angry master； glancing at himself； ‘and happens to differ from
other men in his carriage and manner； and to advocate a great
cause which the corrupt and irreligious desert； he is to be
accounted mad； is he？’
‘Stark； staring； raving； roaring mad； my lord；’ returned the
unmoved John。
‘Do you say this to my face？’ cried his master； turning sharply
upon him。
‘To any man； my lord； who asks me；’ answered John。
‘Mr Gashford； I find； was right；’ said Lord George； ‘I thought
him prejudiced； though I ought to have known a man like him
better than to have supposed it possible！’
‘I shall never have Mr Gashford’s good word； my lord；’ replied
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John； touching his hat respectfully； ‘and I don’t covet it。’
‘You are an ill…conditioned； most ungrateful fellow；’ said Lord
George： ‘a spy； for anything I know。 Mr Gashford is perfectly
correct； as I might have felt convinced he was。 I have done wrong
to retain you in my service。 It is a tacit insult to him as my choice
and confidential friend to do so； remembering the cause you sided
with； on the day he was maligned at Westminster。 You will leave
me to…night—nay； as soon as we reach home。 The sooner the
better。’
‘If it comes to that； I say so too； my lord。 Let Mr Gashford have
his will。 As to my being a spy； my lord； you know me better than to
believe it； I am sure。 I don’t know much about causes。 My cause is
the cause of one man against two hundred； and I hope it always
will be。’
‘You have said quite enough；’ returned Lord George； motioning
him