I am in doubting mood myself to-night.
At any rate, the lineage of the Roysons has not been disputed during
many centuries. Our name is part of our proof, and there has been a
Richard Royson associated with Westmoreland ever since Coeur-de-Lion
returned from Palestine. That is the kind of family asset a boy will
brag of. Joined to a certain proficiency in games, it supplies a ready-
made nickname. But the wonderful and wholly inexplicable thing is that
while I have been standing here, watching our head-light dancing over
the desert, the fantastic conceit has invaded my very soul that I share
with my kingly ancestor his love of this land, his ambition to
accomplish great deeds in its secret places, his contempt and scorn of
all opposing influences. Do you remember how he defied a rain of blood
which scared his courtiers? One of his friends has placed on record the
opinion that if an angel from heaven bade Richard abandon his work he
would have answered with a curse. Well, I am poor, and of slight
consequence in the world to-day, but at least it has been vouchsafed me
to understand what a strong man and a king can feel when there are
those who would thwart his will.
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