he thoughts of the King and hoping that I had won him
to my side. I asked only leave to lead a quiet life with her whom I
loved, setting bounds at once to my ambition and to the plans which he
had made concerning her. Nay, I believe that I might have claimed some
hold over him, but I would not. A gentleman may not levy hush-money
however fair the coins seem in his eyes. Yet I feared that he might
suspect me, and I said:

"To-day, I leave the town, Sir, whether I have what I ask of you or not;
and whether I have what I ask of you or not I am silent. If your Majesty
will not grant it me, yet, in all things that I may be, I am your loyal
subject."

To all this--perhaps it rang too solemn, as the words of a young man are
apt to at the moments when his heart is moved--he answered nothing, but
looking up with a whimsical smile said,

"Tell me now; how do you love this Mistress Quinton?"

At this I fell suddenly into a fit of shame and bashful embarrassment.
The assurance that I had gained at Court forsook me, and I was
tongue-tied as any calf-lover.

"I--I don't know," I stammered.

"Nay, but I grow old. Pray tell me, Mr Dale," he urged, beginning to
laugh at my perturbation.

For my life I could not; it seems to me that the more a man feels a
thing the harder it is for him to utter; sacred things are secret, and
the hymn must not be heard save by the deity.

The King suddenly bent forward and beckoned. Rochester was passing by,
with him now was the Duke of Monmouth. They approached; I bowed low to
the Duke, who returned my salute most cavalierly. He had small reason
to be pleased with me, and his brow was puckered. The King seemed to
find fresh amusement in his son's bearing, but he made no remark on it,
and, addressing himself to Rochester, said:

"Here, my lord, is a young gentleman much enamoured of a lovely and most
chaste maiden. I ask him what this love of his is--for my memory
fails--and behold he cannot tell me! In case he doesn't know what it is
that he feels, I pray you tell him."

Rochester looked at me with an ironical smile.

"Am I to tell what love is?" he asked.

"Ay, with your utmost eloquence," answered the King, laughing still and
pinching his dog's ears.

Rochester twisted his face in a grimace, and looked appealingly at the
King.

"There's no escape; to-day I am a tyrant," said the King.

"Hear then, youths," said Rochester, and his face was smoothed into a
pensive and gentle expressio