"I thought you came of a loyalist family, Mr. Carvel."

"King George has no more loyal servants than the Americans, Mr. Fox, be
they Tory or Whig. And he has but to read our petitions to discover it,"
I said.

I spoke calmly, but my heart was thumping with excitement and resentment.
The apprehension of the untried is apt to be sharp at such moments,
and I looked for them to turn their backs upon me for an impertinent
provincial. Indeed, I think they would have, all save Comyn, had it not
been for Fox himself. He lighted a pipe, smiled, and began easily, quite
dispassionately, to address me.

"I wish you would favour us with your point of view, Mr. Carvel," said
he; "for, upon my soul, I know little about the subject."

"You know little about the subject, and you in Parliament!"

I cried.

This started them all to laughing. Why, I did not then understand. But
I was angry enough.

"Come, let's have it!" said he.

They drew their chairs closer, some wearing that smile of superiority
which to us is the Englishman's most maddening trait. I did not stop to
think twice, or to remember that I was pitted against the greatest
debater in all England. I was to speak that of which I was full, and the
heart's argument needs no logic to defend it. If it were my last word,