"is on the very eve of experiencing
a serious misfortune, and he has greater need than ever of sympathy and
affection."

"Explain yourself, my lord," inquired Raoul, anxiously.

"No; gradually I will explain myself; but, if you desire it, I can tell
Miss Grafton what you may not listen to yourself."

"My lord, you are putting me to the torture; you know something you wish
to conceal from me?"

"I know that Miss Mary Grafton is the most charming object that a heart
ill at ease could possibly meet with in its way through life."

"I have already told you that the Vicomte de Bragelonne loves
elsewhere," said the young girl.

"He is wrong, then."

"Do you assume to know, my lord, that _I_ am wrong?"

"Yes."

"Whom is it that he loves, then?" exclaimed the young girl.

"He loves a lady who is unworthy of him," said Buckingham, with that
calm, collected manner peculiar to Englishmen.

Miss Grafton uttered a cry, which, together with the remark that
Buckingham had that moment made, spread of De Bragelonne's features a
deadly paleness, arising from the sudden surprise, and also from a vague
fear of impending misfortune. "My lord," he exclaimed, "you have just
pronounced words which compel me, without a moment's delay, to seek
their explanation in Paris."

"You will remain here," said Buckingham, "because you have no right to
leave; and no one has the right to quit the service of the king for that
of any woman, even were she as worthy of being loved as Mary Grafton
is."

"You will tell me all, then?"

"I will, on condition that you will remain."

"I will remain, if you will promise to speak openly and without
reserve."

Thus far had their conversation proceeded, and Buckingham, in all
probability, was on the point of revealing, not indeed all that had
taken place, but at least all he was aware of, when one of the king's
attendants appeared at the end of the terrace, and advanced towards the
summer-house where the king was sitting with Lucy Stewart. A courier
followed him, covered with dust from head to foot, and who seemed as if
he had but a few moments before dismounted from his horse.

"The courier from France! Madame's courier!" exclaimed Raoul,
recognizing the princess's livery; and while the attendant and the
courier advanced towards the king, Buckingham and Miss Grafton exchanged
a look full of intelligence with each other.

Chapter XXXVIII. The Courier from Madame.

Charles II. was busily enga