e records--my Lord
Clarendon's, are they not? Ah--not in the formal copy of his work?
And by order of my Lord Rippingdale? Indeed! And wherefore, my Lord
Rippingdale?"

"Shall I read on, your Majesty?" asked the young lady, with heightened
colour, and a look of adventure and purpose in her eyes. Perhaps, too,
there was a look of anger in them--not against the King, for there was
a sort of eagerness or appealing in the glance she cast towards his
Majesty.

The Queen lifted her eyes to the King half doubtfully, for the question
seemed to her perilous, Charles being little inclined, as a rule, to
listen to serious reading, though he was ever gay in conversation,
and alert for witty badinage. His Majesty, however, seemed more than
complaisant; he was even boyishly eager.

The young lady had been but a short time in the household, having come
over with the Queen from Portugal, where she had been brought to
the notice of the then Princess by her great coolness and bravery in
rescuing a young lady of Lisbon from grave peril. She had told the
Princess then that she was the daughter of an exiled English gentleman,
and was in the care of her aunt, one Mistress Falkingham, while her
father was gone on an expedition to Italy. The Princess, eager to
learn English, engaged her, and she had remained in the palace till the
Princess left for England. A year passed, and then the Queen of England
sent for her, and she had been brought close to the person of her
Majesty.

At a motion from Charles, who sat upon a couch, idly tapping the buckles
on his shoes with a gold-handled staff, the young lady placed herself
again at the Queen's feet and continued reading:

"It was when the King was come to Boston town upon the business of
the Fens and to confer sundry honours and inquire into the taxes,
and for further purpose of visiting a good subject at Louth, who
knew of the secret plans of Pym and Hampden, that this shameful
violence befel our pious and illustrious prince. With him was my
Lord Rippingdale and--"

"Ah, ah, my Lord Rippingdale!" said Charles, half aloud, "so this is
where my lord and secret history meet--my dear, dumb lord."

Continuing, the young lady read a fair and just account of the
King's meeting with John Enderby, of Enderby's refusal to accept the
knighthood, and of his rescue of the King at Sutterby.

"Enderby? Enderby?" interjected the King, "that was not one Sir Garrett
Enderby who was with t