ladies'
hearts, as they entered the great hall, by his boyish swagger; but not
the guards. Your orders were imperative--that none unbidden to the ball
could enter."

"'Tis well," cried Portsmouth. "None, none! Letters to me! Did he say
from whom?"

"He said," continued Buckingham, still laughing, "that he was under
orders of his master to place them only in the Duchess's hands. Oh, he
is a very lordly youth."

The Duke throughout made a sad attempt at amusing imitations of the
brogue of the strange, youthful, Irish visitor who, with so much
importunity, sought a hearing.

Portsmouth reflected a moment and then said: "I will see him,
Buckingham, but briefly."

Buckingham, not a little surprised, bowed and departed graciously to
convey the bidding.

The Duchess lost herself again in thought. "His message may have
import," she reflected. "Louis sends strange messengers ofttimes."

In the midst of her reverie, the tapestry at the door was again pushed
back, cautiously this time, then eagerly. There entered the prettiest
spark that ever graced a kingdom or trod a measure.

It was Nell, accoutred as a youth; and a bold play truly she was making.
Her face revealed that she herself was none too sure of the outcome.

"By my troth," she thought, as she glanced uncomfortably about the great
room, "I feel as though I were all breeches." She shivered. "It is such
a little way through these braveries to me."

Her eyes turned involuntarily to the corner where Portsmouth sat, now
dreaming of far-off France.

"The Duchess!" her lips breathed, almost aloud, in her excitement. "So
you'd play hostess to his Majesty," she thought, "give a royal ball and
leave poor Nelly home, would you?"

The Duchess was conscious only of a presence.

"_Garcon!_" she called, without looking up.

Nell jumped a foot.

"That shook me to the boots," she ejaculated, softly.

"_Garcon!_" again called the impatient Duchess.

"Madame," answered Nell, fearfully, the words seeming to stick in her
fair throat, as she hastily removed her hat and bethought her that she
must have a care or she would lose her head as well, by forgetting that
she was an Irishman with a brogue.

"Who are you?" asked Portsmouth, haughtily, as, rising, with surprised
eyes, she became aware of the presence of a stranger.

Indeed, it is not strange that she was surprised. The youth who stood
before her was dressed from top to toe in gray--the silver-gray which
lends a