f your senses,
methinks!"

"Not a whit of it, Sir Giles--not a whit. I never was more my own master
than I am at present, as I will prove to you."

"Prove it, then, by explaining how you came to sign that paper. You
could not mean to run counter to me?"

"But I did," Sir Francis rejoined, highly offended. "I meant to run
counter to you in signing it, and I mean it now."

"'Sdeath! you besotted fool, you are playing into their hands!"

"Besotted fool in your teeth, Sir Giles. I am as sober as yourself. My
hand has been put to that paper, and what it contains I stand by."

"You design, then, to acquit Madame Bonaventure? Consider what you say?"

"No need for consideration; I have always designed it."

"Ten thousand thanks, Sir Francis!" the hostess cried. "I knew I had an
excellent friend in you."

The enamoured knight seized the hand she extended towards him, but in
the attempt to kiss it fell to the ground, amid the laughter of the
company.

"Are you satisfied now, Sir Giles?" asked Lord Roos.

"I am satisfied that Sir Francis has been duped," he replied, "and that
when his brain is free from the fumes of wine, he will bitterly regret
his folly. But even his discharge will be insufficient. Though it may
bind me, it will not bind the Crown, which will yet enforce its claims."

"That, Sir Giles, I leave competent authority to decide," Lord Roos
replied, retiring.

And as he withdrew, the curtains before the upper table were entirely
withdrawn, disclosing the whole of the brilliant assemblage, and at the
head of them one person far more brilliant and distinguished than the
rest.

"Buckingham!" Sir Giles exclaimed. "I thought I knew the voice."

It was, indeed, the King's omnipotent favourite. Magnificently attired,
the Marquis of Buckingham as far outshone his companions in splendour of
habiliments as he did in stateliness of carriage and beauty of person.
Rising from the table, and donning his plumed hat, looped with diamonds,
with a gesture worthy of a monarch, while all the rest remained
uncovered, as if in recognition of his superior dignity, he descended to
where Sir Giles Mompesson was standing. It need scarcely be said that
Jocelyn Mounchensey had never seen the superb favourite before; but he
did not require to be told whom he beheld, so perfectly did Buckingham
realize the descriptions given of him. A little above the ordinary
height, with a figure of the most perfect symmetry, and features as
a